May 21

Oh and here we are again! Two weeks! Oops!

I’ve been doing stuff. Nothing important or worth mentioning except this: I’m waging war on ants. Not all the ants of the world or even in my city. Just my yard.

Problem is, the ants are badass. There are so many anthills in my yard you can no longer see the grass. Which would be bad except that our grass is 50% weeds and 50% dead. Details.

We’ve never had the misfortune of moving into a home with a really awful lawn before. And the truth is, the lawn at our current home wasn’t bad when we moved in last fall. I suspect our rampant neglect of the outside (in favour of the renos going on inside) last fall contributed to the severe decline of the lawn. Unfortunately we are now paying the price. I believe the ants have been sent to punish us for our poor citizenship. Maybe the neighbours are secretly planting them in our yard at night.

I know y’all are just chomping at the bit to give me your solutions for ant troubles. Borax! Cinnamon! Cream of Wheat! Baking powder! Cornmeal! Diatomaceous Earth! Cayenne Pepper! Sugar solutions with bait! I’m telling you I’ve heard enough suggestions to last me a lifetime and I suspect many of them do work, at least on a small scale. But I’m telling you what is taking place in my yard is Antageddon. The Antpocalypse, if you will. We are looking for extermination, not just pest control here.

After spreading a full gallon of diatomaceous earth on my yard today (well, most of my yard – it wasn’t ENOUGH to get quite all of the yard, if you can believe it) I came to the conclusion the only real solution here is full scale chemical warfare. I’m torn as to whether or not we should bother with attempting it myself or calling in the professionals. But something is going to happen and soon. I don’t care what it takes! I’m ready for the insect smackdown to commence.

Those little bastards are going to see who’s in charge around here.

Aren’t you so glad I took some time to post? I know. Worth. Every. Second.

May 3

Dear Son,

Some day I hope you have a child just like you. Generous, sensitive, caring, easy-going, constantly smiling and with a heart bigger than you thought possible. And who eats his or her dinner just slightly slower than the pace of a glacier.

I hope some day you will understand just how far past my wit’s end I was the other night when I took your dinner away (after numerous warnings) and got you into your pajamas and sent you to bed without more than a bite of dinner.

I know you won’t starve missing out on one meal. In fact, missing dinner tonight is not much different than any other night only we didn’t fight over it as long. Supper has always been the bane of your existence and frankly, I’m at a loss to understand why. After the way you run around all day you should be ravenous. But unless dinner consists of cheeseburgers or pizza you’re pretty much willing to forgo the whole fuss. Tonight I’d had enough and decided that a simple bribe or a missed dessert just isn’t going to cut it anymore. I warned you that the consequence of not eating was going to be an immediate bed-time and you called my bluff.

So when I picked you up from the table and brought you upstairs the tears started to flow immediately. You knew I meant it and you weren’t happy. You wailed while I put on your pajamas. You howled while I brushed your teeth. You sobbed as I tucked you into bed. You repeatedly broke my heart with “I wish this wasn’t happening!!!”. Me too, buddy. Me too.

They say people show who they are in a crisis. While going to bed without supper isn’t a natural disaster or unexpected tragedy, it is about as serious as things get for a privileged North American little boy. You showed me who you are tonight. Because even though you were devastated you never once kicked or fought or yelled. You didn’t try to hurt me or run away from me. You didn’t say “I hate you”.  If you had, you wouldn’t have been the first three, almost four-year-old to do so.

You reminded me that you are a gentle, sweet boy who wants to be good. You crave attention and approval like any little three year old but you rarely stoop to misbehaviour to achieve it.  You never resort to nastiness. Silliness maybe, but you are never mean. And most of the time you succeed at being “good”. But the fact that you are good, even when you are being disciplined says a lot about your character, buddy.

I hope some day you have a child just like you who shows you their amazing capacity for unconditional love like you did when I came in to try and settle you down. Your utter despair turned to acceptance and tears to snuggles and I just couldn’t have been more proud of you. Not even today when you announced yourself Kieran the Superhero Worm Rescuer!  You are a good boy.

I love you baby.

Love,
Mommy