No pushing

I've learned a lot from my years as a parent... mostly I've learned from the many mistakes I've made over the years.  Here are two important things I've learned that I wish I knew way back when:

(1) kids will figure out how to do things on their own time
(2) don't apply (1) to every situation

Which further feeds into something else I've learned: you'll be faced with a lot of different situations.  Even if you're dealing with the same kid, the same rules may not apply.  For example, I totally pushed Emily into toilet training before she was ready.  MAJOR mistake and thus ensued months of pain and torture and poop.  That did not often land in the toilet.

Next example, I did push Emily to learn to tie her shoes during the summer between SK and Grade 1.  I knew she could do it if she just practised.  I was right and she was tying like a pro before the first day of Grade 1.  Goodbye velcro loser shoes.

Next example, riding a two-wheeler.  Emily is a scaredy-cat cautious kid to put it mildly.  She can't watch movies.  Period.  Because there might be something scary.  Or emotional.  She has trouble with change.  She doesn't like loud noises or crowds.  She's generally just sensitive.  So when faced with getting rid of her training wheels, she loved the idea but was scared of even trying.  I knew that if pushed, this could be really bad.  But I also knew that it really didn't matter when she got off her training wheels.  I don't care when she rides a two-wheeler.  However, she'd become embarrassed by her training wheels and was refusing to ride a bike at all last summer.  So a little research by me discovered that a bike too small can yield great results by acting like a push bike and feel stable because the child doesn't pedal until she has the balance figured out.  So Emily tried it a couple of days ago on a neighbour's bike.  She realized that she might actually be able to do this.  So, when Anna pulled her bike out again today, Emily got on and WITH NO INVOLVEMENT OR PUSHING (literally) BY ME AT ALL (in fact, I was on the phone while all this happened), this was the result:

Score one for this lazy yet seasoned parent! (Oh, and score one for Emily too.)

He's home!

At 7:30 pm this evening I sat in our car, headlights on, girls in the back excited beyond belief, scanning the Kitchener train station platform for John's form. I haven't felt that excited about something since.... well, probably sometime around Christmas 1986 or so. Likely the year I got my Litebrite.

Being on my own for the past 8 days while attempting (I think successfully?) to stave off the flu, being 10 weeks pregnant, hosting my dad and Donna, keeping up with the usual stuff around here, and now the last two days, nursing Emily through *the* flu has not been a good time for me.

I've said it before when John has been away but being a single parent is not enjoyable in any way. Sure, you don't have to make any decisions in tandem, checking to see if your decision works for your partner. But that is far outweighed by all the other CRAP that you have to do by yourself.

Like tonight for instance. I really needed to get groceries. I had planned to take Emily and Hope to our nearest grocery store (my favourite, Central Fresh Market - an independent grocery in Kitchener) and get the staples we were missing as well as stuff to make chicken noodle soup. Although Emily was perkier than this morning, she had hit the wall again and did not want to leave the couch. Or the comfort of her jammies. So I started calling people: first Greg who it turns out was playing single parent himself; then Julie, no one home at her house; then I looked out the window and saw that both Dan and Jewel were home downstairs and although I'd used and abused my friendship with Jewel all day, I did it again and she graciously stayed with the kids while I ran out.

A couple of Facebook friends asked later if there was a grocery delivery nearby. You only think of these things afterward and in anticipation of a next time, I did some research. As far as I can tell no grocery stores do this in K-W. A big oversight for sure. What do single parents do in these situations? I assume they have to rely on a huge network of friends and family. It's not a role I ever want to permanently play.

And so, if you know someone who is a single parent.... make them a meal and drop it off for their freezer. Just for those times when they might need it. It will make their day.

This is a grumpy mummy

I'm feeling really bad right now. I got pretty angry at Emily about an hour ago because she wasn't listening. I'd explained something to her 4 times already and the fourth time she still couldn't tell me what I'd been telling her. She ended up crying. I ended up shouting at her, sort of, and now I feel terrible.

I get really irritated when she doesn't listen. I hate repeating myself. Worse than that today though was that I really wanted her to understand what I was saying.

Still. I should have kept it together. I'm the adult here.

Emily seems to have this notion that looks are important. She always wants to look pretty. She wants to wear something pretty. If she spills something on her clothes, as she did today at lunch, she wants to make sure that she changes into "something so she'll look pretty." It drives me batty. I don't know where she got this sense that pretty is important.

Take one look at me and you'll know that it wasn't from her mother.

I can't remember the last time I wore make-up or used a blow-drier. My clothes often have yogurt stains or snot on them. And I don't bother to change because why create another target when this one is already hit?

So, I calmly (the first time) explained that your clothes aren't important, it doesn't matter what you look like; what matters is what you are like as a person: kind, considerate, fun to be around, caring, nice to other people.

And then, right after lunch, she said it again. I went through it again, calmly, but this time she started fiddling with things and playing while I was trying to talk to her. My temper started to rise.

I explained it two more times over the course of the following ten minutes and I still wasn't getting through to her. I was mad.

And now I'm mad at myself for treating her this way when I was trying to explain that "it matters what you're like as a person." I probably should have added "but don't use me as an example."

I'm trying harder lately to be slow to anger. Unfortunately, that isn't my nature. Which means it is a bigger battle with myself, more of a challenge. I just wish I was seeing more success.

I don't want my kids to think I'm a grumpy mummy. As much as I adored my mum, she was a bit of a grumpy mummy while I was growing up. At least at times. I don't want my kids to remember me that way.

But I also want her to listen and learn and understand.

And I want to be a better example than I was today.

All this to say, I think I really need a weekend away.

Good idea, self. I think I'll take one. Tomorrow. I'm going to go to Toronto to visit my friend Deb.

Oh, and look at that. The flight is already booked. How fortuitous!

Hooray! Full report to come on Monday!

Yesterday: good; Today: not so much

A few of great things happened yesterday; first, washing machine guy called and had the timer from our washer all fixed up AND he was able to install it right away. Hurray for laundry! Second, John came home last night to much fanfare, hugs and kisses from all of us. Third, I successfully pulled off John's early birthday/Father's Day gift without him having a clue.

You might remember that John's bike was stolen a few months ago. I decided to get him a new-to-him bike for this gift-giving time of year. On Wednesday, the kids and I went to Dave's Bike Dump here in Ottawa and got him a great but ugly bike that will be awesome to ride and will likely not be the target of any thieves. At least not any thieves with taste.

It is a very early model mountain bike (in fact, Dave told me it was the first widely available mountain bike although I can't remember what it was called. I believe the name Tom was involved). The original owner painted over the frame to hide the make so it would purposely look ugly and not draw nasty thieving people. He was successful.

It has all new components thanks to Dave and his crew and I fitted it with all the extras. I thought John had a clue to what was going on but in typical fashion, he was totally clueless (heh heh, sorry baby). I love pulling off a surprise. He declared it his best birthday present ever.

And then today the kids were so bad most of the morning that it was the first time that I very seriously contemplated returning to work. It's still seriously on my mind. Today sucked. It got a lot better, in fact way, way better, after naps took place, but man, if I ever needed a 10:00 a.m. cocktail, it was today.

I'm thinking of setting up a bar in the living room, or perhaps just starting to carry a flask for these kind of emergencies. Yeah, I'm that kind of kick-ass mom.

Tonight I'm off to my girls' book club for some treats and a casual mention of the book we read. I love my occasional night out. I really need it today.

My fallible memory

My memory is getting short, shorter by the day it seems and thus I am very thankful for this blog. I need to record things, family moments mostly, so that in a few years, let's be honest a few months if not weeks, I can see what we've been doing and relive the best moments and even the worst of our days. Mostly, I want to be able to read about my most special times with John and the girls because lord knows I can't trust myself to remember even when I think, in the moment, that I'll never forget "this very moment, right now; I'll commit it to memory and never forget." A few days later, it is likely filed away and starting to fade. I hate that. I hate that about fatigue. My memory is the first to go.

I feel lately like I'm living in a fog. I can't quite see behind me as clearly as I should. I want to relive special moments from Emily's babyhood but they are blurry and that bothers me so much. And so, the blog and my thankfulness for it. Of course it's usefulness as a memory jogger actually requires me to use it to record things, certainly more often than I do now. Like yesterday when I was walking with Hope to the sand box just a short walk down the path behind our house. She was holding my hand like she almost always does when she walks beside me. Her hand was cold. Her fingers were pointed up towards my arm. All four of them. Her thumb was squeezing the back of my hand. She was wearing her blue fuzzy Guess hoodie jacket that I bought used for Emily when Emily was tiny. It has matching pants that make her look like a teddy bear. Hope loves that jacket, even though it is a little too small for her now, and always wants the hood to be up, which it was yesterday. Her hair, her luscious curly, corn silk hair, was sticking out the front all around the hood. Her cheeks were framed by the tight hood making them seem even bigger than they are, which seems almost impossible. They are huge without the hood. They were rosy. Her eyes were glued to the sand box in the distance as she tottered along in her traditional sideways slightly pigeon-toed gait. She walked the entire way without asking me to pick her up. That was the first time she walked the whole way. When we got there she made me pretend hamburgers and stew and dessert and whatever I asked for. She climbed out through the window of the sandbox house. I carried her home and she buried her face in my shoulder because of the cold wind and I nestled my nose into those wisps of hair escaping from her hood.

I never want to forget it. I will though and when I do, I'll read this and enjoy that I loved that moment and planned to remember it for the rest of my life.

One or two good ideas a year

Once in a while I get a good idea. I seem to be a bit short on them lately but the last two days I've had two. Okay, I'll admit that once I thought them over a bit I knew that someone somewhere has done this before. In fact, probably a lot of people have done these things before. Eh, I'm still rather pleased with myself.

First idea was yesterday's lunch. I am sick of making sandwiches, macroni and cheese or tuna. I opened the fridge and a lone roll of Pillsbury Crescent Rolls stared back at me, leftover from a Christmas hors d'oeuvre. I grabbed them, filled each roll with cream cheese mixed with ricotta cheese, caramelized onions and a small piece of ham. They were awesome! The girls loved them. And the delicious filling covered up that weird Pillsbury aftertaste.

Idea two is a treasure hunt. This morning Emily pretended that a piece of paper with some scribbles on it was a map. I had a brilliant idea right then. While she has been in bed for quiet time, I drew a map of the main floor of the house and marked treasure around the map (numbers 1 to 7). I hid bits of treasure in those spots. I used a toy that I was saving for her birthday (but to be honest she would probably enjoy more now) that had several pieces to it. Voila! A fun game that will (hopefully) teach her what a map is and how to use one. I'll let you know if it works well or if it turns into a three-year-old meltdown which is entirely likely based on her behaviour lately. Off for tea and then to don my hunting jacket!

I thought the rush was over

Normally after Christmas I feel this awesome sense of time moving in slow-play mode, like everything was going so fast and then the tape kind of got tangled and things start moving frame by frame instead. I have always liked that feeling for the first few days following New Years Day but I remember last year, around the second week after Christmas, that time started to creep by. I found myself desperately looking for activities for Emily and me with Hope in tow.

This year is different and I don't know why. It doesn't feel quieter, the pace isn't slower. Sure, there are less visitors and activities but I feel just as harried, rushed and disorganized. Not to mention the house feels just as dirty. Maybe dirtier even. The Christmas tree finally hit the bricks yesterday. All the decorations are gone and the Christmas cookies are now planted solidly around my middle. But I still feel like I'm in a slippery funnel and I can't get a toe hold.

I think I know why. Their names are Emily and Hope. Christmas with them was wonderful, magical even. But unfortunately the burst of energy they both experienced has propelled them forward like some kind of kinetic jet pack that isn't slowing down. I'm having trouble keeping pace with them, keeping Emily entertained enough (at least to her liking) and keeping her agreeable. The last few days have been tough with Emily. She's been rude, loud, hepped up on goof balls in general. Hope is in the early days of weaning so that is wearing us both out a little bit and changing her wake-up schedule so I'm forced to hit the ground running with both girls out of bed at the same time.

This sounds like one long complaint. I'm sorry for that. I'm just damn tired. I also feel like I have very little time to myself - it adds up to about two hours a day total - to do things I really want to do: like knit and cross-stitch and learn to smock and get back into my sewing. I really want to throw myself into my fibre arts this winter but I'm not finding the time. Not to even mention the sadly neglected blog, cooking and baking (for fun) and reading. And my new course starts tomorrow night. I'm seriously considering dropping it for this semester so I can have a breather, do what I really want to do, and have John home a little more. Taking this course means he has to work on Sunday afternoons to prepare for his teaching the following week.

I'm not nearly as grumpy as this post suggests. I just needed to get it all out before I go upstairs, pick up some knitting, have a cup of tea and relax.

That tea may look distinctly like a glass of framboise. Hey, don't judge me. I deserve it.

The Friendly Giant has nothing on me

It has been a kids' wonderland around here lately, if I do so say myself. I've been on my game. I've taken it a step beyond where I was with playing with the kids and dived in whole hog. I always made sure I played with them as much as I could while still getting things done around the house (to a point where I was satisfied, which is probably well below the satisfaction level of other people, admittedly). Playing with them often meant playing store once in a while, doing lots of reading, taking them to the library or to a museum and doing lots of crafts with Emily. It didn't often mean doing a lot of pretend games with them.

I've changed that.

Now, the house is dirtier to be sure (although still tidy at the end of most days), but I spend my day playing store, bakery, restaurant, doctor, hairdresser and house. Often all in the same day. We haven't left the house nearly as much. We haven't been to a museum in a long time.

Damn, we're having fun.

If only I could "magically" make it disappear

Emily lately has been applying nicknames to people and at age 3, she doesn't have any understanding yet of what is appropriate and what is not in regards to nicknames. Unfortunately she has a father who is king of the nicknames: he loves to give them to everyone... well, everyone in this house anyway. I once counted how many nicknames he's had for me since we met and it was well past 10.

When Hope was a wee thing she was on the plump side, in a nice, chunky baby kind of way. John called her (among other things), Chubs. Emily started calling her Chubs, just once in a while, and while Hope was really small, it didn't seem to matter. Now it does. Especially since Emily has erstwhile applied it to both John and I on occasion.

So, last week when she started to call other kids at preschool "Piggy" (and she hasn't yet delved into Lord of the Flies, that'll be a whole other conversation), I had to have a talk with her about nicknames. She was telling me about preschool and said "so I talked to a little boy and I said Hi Piggy and I laughed and laughed. He's a nice boy." When I told her that wasn't a nice name, she burst into tears. Clearly she had meant it in the nicest possible way (I'm sure his mother, who apparently was with him, missed the subtle nuance of niceness she was trying to convey). We talked for a long time about names, what's nice, what isn't and that when you call a person Chubs or Piggy, it's like telling them that they're fat. She felt a lot better afterwards and I think I made her feel better. She didn't do anything wrong. She just didn't know. And the fact is, she's too young to give people nicknames. I hope I got that across.

Well, since then Chubs has been pulled out a couple of times at home. We keep on top of her about it and re-explain about the whole Chubs=fat thing. She gets it now. As you'll see.

So today after preschool she looks at me and says: "Look, it's magic!" PAUSE. "Magic means you're fat."

She outright insisted that it meant a person is fat, although we argued back and forth like an old married couple for several minutes. I think she won. I gave up.

Maybe this means I can conjure up dinner with a wave of this chocolate bar I'm eating.

Well, that didn't work

Emily was up at her usual time this morning, which means with the clock change it was actually 6:40 instead of 7:40. Oh well. Hope, same thing. I pretty much expected that.

And it's not that it matters much. It's true that it is only one hour after all, in the big scheme of things that doesn't matter at all. But for a person like me, who is up two or three times a night and has been for well over a year now, the difference of one hour in my sleep seems pretty big. One extra hour can sometimes mean the difference between being someone who wants to play grocery store for the fifth time that day and and someone who wants to gouge out the eyes of the Doodlebops.

We're off to church in a couple of hours. All of us. This is the first Sunday in a while that we're all going together. Hope is completely done with a morning nap now so there is no reason we can't all be going. We'll see how it all shakes out. Hopefully the littlest won't mind spending a lot of time in the nursery or cruising the halls. I predict it will be fine.

One extra hour that means so much

When it's time to change the clocks, forward or backward, we're always faced with how we keep the kids on the same bedtime and rising schedule. I don't want them up an hour earlier in the morning or going to bed an hour later at night for weeks to come. When Emily was a baby, I remember the first clock change where it mattered to her schedule. We were lucky enough to have been in Texas when it went down. Texas is an hour behind us anyway so it all worked out even steven. After that, it always seemed to work out for us. Emily almost seemed to know that she needed to catch up to the new time and blessed us with a terrible bedtime or night the night the clocks changed so that she was extra tired the next day and easy to change to the new times.

That hasn't happened this year. We've just rolled with it so far. Tonight, I imagine will be similar, although we decided to keep the kids up an hour later hoping they'll sleep an hour later tomorrow. I know this is unlikely however. Often when they're up later, particularly Emily, they still get up at the same time. Well, at least they'll be easy to put to bed and I get an extra hour of sleep. And that extra hour to me means so much with a 1-year-old who is still getting up multiple times a night.

What about you? What are your strategies for changing your kids' schedules over to agree with the new time?

Argh

I have several posts I want to put up, all of which deserve more than the seven or so minutes I have to myself per day right now that isn't filled with cooking or kids or gardening or shopping. Hope, who is completely wonderful right now in every way but one, is a bear to get to sleep and once she is asleep she stays that way for all of an hour (when I'm lucky) before she is up again. I miss the days of her great, long sleeps.

So this is the extent of my post for today. Maybe for a few days. I have lots I want to say but I want to say it well (okay, at least marginally well) and I'm frustrated that I just have no time. It really sucks ass.

The kids are great though. Lots of fun. I'd share pictures if it didn't take so damn long to organize. Maybe next time.

Try to keep up with this one

Beth is here! Beth is here! Beth is here! Can you tell that I'm excited?

My sister arrived from Texas on Saturday afternoon and is here until next Saturday and it is sooooo great. Emily is beside herself with excitement every morning as she waits for Beth to get up. They've already baked (a lot), played, we went to Parliament yesterday and saw the creepy cat sanctuary, went to the market for tea and still have an entire week ahead of us. We're not exactly sure what all we'll do but I'm sure we'll have no trouble filling it. So far we're thinking of swimming, a museum, playgroup and Kindermusik, and for me, a trip to the spa. Oh my, yes.

Today we're staying in. It's raining and I'm getting a quote for having our roof done (ouch, I'm sure) and an electrician is coming to fix the three outlets in our kitchen that don't work. Right now everything is plugged into either the stove or the one remaining outlet that works. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that that, well, it's a little irritating.

This post, as you've likely already noticed, is jumping all over the place. Hold on for one more jump, Mr. Gaeta.

I was preparing to leave the house on Saturday afternoon to do a few groceries. I was taking Hope with me. Emily was staying home with John. John was cleaning the house. As I left, Emily told John that she wanted to play outside on her new climber thingy. As I was about to walk out the door I heard him say to her: You can play outside but I'm not coming. I'm going to be vacuuming upstairs.

Um, HUH?

I quickly explained why a two-year old shouldn't play alone in an unfenced yard with climbing equipment that has public trails going behind it and then I left the house. I seethed the entire time I was away, secretly hoping that John was kidding. His reaction to that when I asked him later was: "Um, if you say so."

We then had an extended discussion, with him nodding the whole time and looking a bit sheepish in his own John way, about why a two-year old should not be playing outside alone. We were both kind of laughing at the tragedy of it all.

Father of the Year Award people? I think I have a prime candidate you may want to consider.

Another trip to the bush

Today we made another trek out to the sugar bush, but this time to a traditional Quebec sugar bush with our good friends, Ron and Meredith and their two kids, Ella and Duncan.

We've never been to a Quebec bush before - we always go to Ontario bushes - but we've heard the rumours and let me just say... they are all true. The food is great and there is a lot of it.

It is different to the Ontario sugar bushes in that the food is served to you rather than being a buffet and it is family style. Also, you get traditional Quebec sugar bush fare, which includes split pea soup, les oreilles de crisse (smoked pig jowels - puts bacon to shame), beans of course, and dessert of maple cake and sugar pie. There is of course liquor if you choose. Needless to say, giant 1 litre bottles of maple syrup line the tables up and down.

There was also horse drawn sleigh rides, which we didn't do this time and maple taffy on the snow - another sugar bush tradition no matter what side of the River you are on.

It was all wonderful, delicious and a great way to say goodbye to this winter and welcome the spring. My only complaint was the long wait to get in (even though we had reservations). As you can see, Emily wasn't too impressed either.

I've posted photos below so you can see the food, the dining room (just big long tables - wonderfully casual, exactly as it should be), the giant bottle of maple syrup.

The kids were great throughout. Hope focussed on her sweet potatoes and spoons. Emily was immersed in her meal and even sat patiently waiting for her dessert. I was so happy with them and the result was the I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

I try hard not to let Emily's (sometimes) bad behaviour ruin outings for me/us but as much as I try, I don't often succeed. I also try not to be embarrassed by what really is typical two-year old behaviour but again, it is so hard to keep my objectivity sometimes. I imagine it's difficult for any parent and I consider myself a pretty laid back one. As much as we try, we all feel that our kids' behaviour is a direct reflection on our success as parents. Before I had kids, I was guilty of judging parents whose kids were acting out in public. John and I would both remark about the parents, how they didn't have control, or they clearly didn't set good boundaries or practise good discipline. As our friend John says, I was a much better parent before I had kids.

One thing that parenting has taught me is to not judge others based on their kids. You can be the freaking Baby Whisperer and your kid will still pee on toys in a restaurant or lay down in the church lobby and scream, or be the perfect child you know she can be. You'll parent the same way and get two different results.

So, to all you parents out there: you're doing a great job, no matter what the person at the table next to you in Starbucks is thinking.

At least it isn't matching adult track suits

Today was one of those days that I love. One of those days where you watch the guy you fell in love with years ago riding up and down an escalator with your daughter and fall in love with him (and her) all over again.

We woke up to a really snowy day here. In fact, it's still snowing. After a beautiful week that promised spring is just around the corner, this is kind of hard to take and took away the usual excitement of doing some outside stuff (the nasty wind didn't help motivate us either).

We didn't really have any specific plans but we decided to start off at what Emily calls "the bagel shop." It's a great Ottawa bagel joint called Kettleman's. They serve Montreal style bagels. If you don't know what this means, man, are you missing out. Simply put, they are much chewier and denser than New York style bagels (which I tend to refer to as bread with holes). They are traditionally poppy seed or sesame and the dough is slightly sweet. The closer you get to Montreal (Ottawa is just two hours away), the more often you'll find them. Anywho.

After the bagel stop, we decided to head to the Byward Market. We haven't been down there in ages, although we used to often be there every weekend when we were child free and full of spontaneity. We picked up some maple syrup as it is by far the cheapest place to get it - much cheaper, for some reason, than getting it at the sugar camps. We had a great time going through the Market Mall (a building in the market that houses a few cool shops and little eateries). Emily was perfect Emily - in awe of everything, pointing out things on the way, and talking about food most of the time.

From there we went to the Rideau Centre and did some browsing. "Mom, this mall is awesome!" was proclaimed a few times (apocalypse coming, my friends) and Emily loved the big open spaces to run around in, looking heartbreaking in her little barrettes, curls and ski jacket.

I took the opportunity to pop into Old Navy to browse the kids' section. I picked up a few things. Afterwards I met John and Emily at Second Cup for the snack Emily had been asking about for the previous hour. I showed off the purchases Hope and I made. Specifically this:


John's face clouded over. He started to shake his head and said "no, no, no, no." Then went on a diatribe about how I'm one step away from wearing track pants and thinking they look good and that it is a slight against humankind to dress our children in the same outfits, blah, blah, blah.

I think it's going to be damn cute. I think it's cute to have older and younger siblings, once in a while only, in the same little outfit. Am I wrong here? Am I one step away from buying matching windbreaker suits for John and I?

I'm sorry, Emily

Today I spanked Emily.

I've credited myself as a non-spanker. I find it hard to reconcile teaching my child not to hit others with hitting her myself in the form of spanking. And yet today, I was so pushed to the limit by her that I spanked her. The worst of it is, I did it because I was angry, not because she did something so much worse than anything she has done before. Yes, she was behaving very badly. She was screaming intermittently, she was taking swings at me, she was disobeying me at every turn, she was up from her nap and refusing to return to her room. But, she's done that before and I kept it reasonably together. But today, after a full morning of this (since about 7:00 actually), I lost it. I lost control and crossed a line I never wanted to cross.

I didn't hurt her. She had a pull-up on and probably didn't even realize what I'd done. But I know what I did. No, it's not the end of the world. Lots of parents out there choose to spank their children. However, I chose not to and I didn't stick by my convictions.

Clearly, it has upset me. But, you know what? Having been through some similar situations before, I also realize that now I start fresh. We start fresh. We hug, we kiss, we love each other and we start again. I start again. With my convictions, with my choices, with rebuilding my control and acting like the adult again. I start again with no shouting, with no spanking, with no losing my cool. I start again.

I'll lose it again too, but I doubt I'll spank her again. Having done it once, you know what? It didn't make me feel better and it didn't make her stop what she was doing. Having learned that, I know I won't go there again. And I also know that I'll watch for the signs in myself that things are headed in a bad direction. And I'll give myself a time out.

And if I don't stay in my time out, no crafts or t.v. for me.

I'm sorry Emily. I love you. You know it.

What it's like

The last few days have felt like the stars are in alignment around here. Emily has been absolutely stellar. Funny, energetic, only minor whining. Hope has been going to sleep relatively easily and sleeping well, smiling and laughing while awake. The only little glitch is Emily's t.v. addiction. I 'm tackling that tomorrow by limiting her to t.v. only right after breakfast and then not again the rest of the day.

I got a list today of all the drop-in playgroups in our area. They're supposed to be great and I don't know why it took me this long to get interested in them. I'm going to try them starting next week.

I feel like I should be speaking more often to what it is actually like to being at home with two little kids, one tiny.

It is overwhelming sometimes.

About a week ago I announced in here that I thought I had PPD. I believe now that I don't have any depression. Rather, I'm just tired, get angry sometimes, overwhelmed and at that time I was constantly being challenged and annoyed by Emily. It was a perfect storm.

As I go through this year, I have often thought of my mum. I'm sure she had moments like this. I never asked her, and she probably wouldn't have told me all the sordid details or the bad moments she had that were similar to mine last week (when I threw a soap dispenser against the wall right after hauling my hair dryer against the bathroom mirror). For my friends and I who are doing this right now, I don't think we've heard the realities of it from any of our mothers. I'm not sure if this is because they have blocked out those hair dryer-throwing moments or they don't want to tell us about those horrible moments because they don't want to remember the times when they questioned their own decency as a mother. Whatever it is, it is something that women who are engaged in this crazy motherhood thing need to talk about more.

We lose it.

It's okay to lose it (to a point of course). What is most important is that we spread the word that we're far from perfect, that this is the hardest job a woman will ever have, and that we need outlets and support. And, that until a woman experiences this for herself, it can never really be honestly explained to her.

I found it hard with Emily but I also loved it. I love it now with Hope. I love it with Hope and Emily together. However, with the two at home together, I am more challenged, more tired, and at times, more frustrated, than I have ever been in my life and probably will ever be again. It isn't depression, but it is hard. Really hard. But I wouldn't trade it for anything and I am glad that Emily is home with me full-time. I'm experiencing something now that connects me to my mum further and so many women before me.

Being home full-time with two kids is something that far fewer women do now than when our mothers were doing it. A number of my friends in fact have had a second baby but keep their first child in daycare. I can totally understand that. And I probably would have done the same (although probably part-time) if Dawn hadn't closed the daycare. But, here I am and I'm so glad that I am doing this. It is making me a stronger, more creative, more understanding person. I'm thankful for that.

I'm going to spend more time over the next few months though thinking about all of this.

If I can find the time, that is....

Santa, no Santa, it doesn't seem to matter

Yesterday I took Emily to the Santa Claus parade. We got there for 11:30 thinking that would ensure that we saw the floats that started down the parade route at 11:00. Turns out that the parade got underway about 30 minutes late so we saw nothing until about 12:30. Emily didn't care. She amused herself for the first full hour watching a big machine/crane at a construction site.

It was darn cold. Emily sat on my shoulders most of the time eating a lollipop passed out by some group of paraders. By 1:00 we still hadn't spotted Santa, but look! there's a big bus with a humongous Santa hat on it. I told Emily that was Santa, she was thrilled, and we left. Dontcha love toddlers? Forgot to take my camera of course so you'll just have to use your mind's eye.

Last night the Henkelmans came to our house for dinner. We were all supposed to go out for dinner at a swanky bistro but Meredith's son had a nasty stomach flu and she was supposed to babysit for us. So, a quick change of plans, and the Henkelman's came to our house, they ordered take away Thai, brought dessert and wine, and it was all very good.

Lastly, it seems that I have a touch of postpartum depression. That seems like saying "I have a touch of the cancer." Anyway, it means that I may not be posting as often as I have been depending on my energy level and desire or ability to do anything more than play with Emily and change Hope's diaper. But, I'll try to post updates as I see myself through this next exciting phase of parenthood. John's being very understanding... especially after I throw a soap dispernser atgainst the bathroom wall. Don't worry though... that's all I've thrown so far.

Care for a cuppa?

The last week, actually longer, has been really rough with Emily. There has been a lot of whining (her, not me), lots of rudeness, crying, temper tantrums and hot and cold with the toilet/potty. I told John last night that, if I'm honest, I'm not enjoying being her parent lately. I wondered if I'm not giving her enough stimulation, if it is a phase, or if it is a result of too much t.v. (current addiction is Dora and the Wiggles).

This morning started off badly. Right from when she got out of bed she was crying and whining. So, I let her watch Dora while I got breakfast ready. We enjoyed breakfast (okay, who wouldn't? It was blueberry bread pudding with whipped cream on top) and then there was some crying when I told her there was no more t.v. for the day. So, to divert her, we had a tea party. A "real" tea party. I made tea, put out cookies, brought her table and chairs up from the basement, brought Pooh and Baby to the table, and gave her the china tea set she likes. It was a major event and a total hit of course. The tea party marked the end of whining for the rest of the day (so far).

After about 30 minutes of that, we took all the kids books off the shelves in the living room and spread them out like a library and read lots of them. After that it was off to the kitchen for drawing. Then, upstairs to feed Hope and for Emily to generally destroy the top floor. I decided that today I was going to stop caring about tidying except for during Emily's nap. It works so much better if I just play with her.

Clearly this was part of the issue. She does need more stimulation, more interaction and more activity than I have been providing lately. I do of course play with her and give her some activities but she needs more than I was giving her. This will mean a messier house, a more fatigued me but if it means less whining and crying, and a better relationship between her and I (back to how it has always been - very close and loving with little conflict), I'll totally do that.

After drawing, it was off to pick up John at the train station, get some groceries and Loblaws (where Emily saw her playgroup leader, Paul - a big hit), and then home for lunch. Clearly nap happened a bit late today.

After her nap, we go to the library so John and I can vote and to let Emily explore a bit. All in all, a great day with my big girl. Oh, and big girl underwear, no accidents, and lots of potty time! Hooray! Even hit the mark in Loblaws!

Why didn't I just stay on the pill?

It's another one of those days. But worse.

Emily is precocious. Most people who know her, know that. She is "strong-willed," which is a nice way of saying she is a pain in the ass sometimes. Today she is being so nasty that I am having a serious existential moment. This happens when you sit in the bathroom and make up a song about poo coming out of your bum just to help a toddler produce. Then, you quickly realize, there is nothing to produce. She has instead figured out that she can use the need to poo as a delaying tactic in regards to naptime. This is when it hits you how your life has changed from one where you filter information to a minister of the crown to one where you sing about poo and go all ga-ga when it is in a potty looking like ice cream. And all in a matter of weeks.

The problem with toilet training that no one told me is that a toddler hits a point when they don't want to where diapers anymore but they also aren't ready to shed them alltogether. They still need them on outings, in the car and for sleeping. Today, Emily refused every type I offered: cloth, pull-up, regular etc. Finally, I hit my limit, launched her into her room for a final timeout (I think I counted around 4 or 5 by this time after a morning of shouting (by her, not me), not cleaning up her toys, hitting, etc etc), then covered her bed in plastic, stuck a sheet on top and told her that I didn't care if she slept in a puddle of her own pee, she was getting in bed and staying there.

It registered because she got a look on her face like: "what the fuck? are you seriously going to make me do that? are you seriously seeing right through me and going to make me put my money where my mouth is? Interesting."

I put her in bed, walked out, went downstairs, looked at the bottle of wine, put on the tea instead, and then yelled "For fuck's sake!" just to make me feel better, which it did.

Maybe I'll have a chance with Hope. Unlikely. She'll probably end up sleeping in her own pee too.