Sep 22

***WARNING: This post contains pictures of chickens at various stages of death and dismemberment. If this is offensive to you, you will definitely NOT want to read any farther! Maybe come back in a day or two? Sounds good? Excellent. Have a lovely day then!***

This weekend we had the opportunity to participate in slaughtering 120 chickens. Yes, I just put that right out there. We murdered animals this weekend. But, since we are not vegetarians, I think it was a valuable experience for all of us, and here’s why…

I think there is a lot of value in learning what is involved in getting food to the table. It’s a much longer process than grocery store to dinner plate and while we know that to be true, it’s not the same as actually participating in the process.

Although the hubby and some of the other axe-wielding fellows, along with the kids, really kind of enjoyed some of the gorier parts of the day. I’m sorry, but watching a headless chicken flapping around is pretty creepy. But the kids thought it was awesome.

Seeing the process through, from start to finish was a real learning experience.  From the deathblow of the axe,

to the plucking,

and more plucking,

and gutting,

and washing, and eventually bagging them all up and freezing them.  And lest you think I didn’t actually get my hands dirty…

I know, SO ATTRACTIVE.

Our kids did not actually spend the entire day playing with chicken corpses. There was so much fun to be had at the farm.

There is something refreshing and inspirational about watching kids just enjoying nature and running around outside. They played until they were exhausted. We had to force them to stop to eat and pee. Then they played some more. They can’t wait to go back again.

The whole day was like coming home. Being a part of a community, sharing in the small joys and struggles of a little day like this and having a barrel of fun together. Not fun like Disneyland-fun. But still, fun. It’s been a while.

Nov 9

Since we’ve been out of Canada Kids CBC has undergone some kind of makeover and now has a new host, and a bunch of new muppet-type characters, one of which is this…um…creature. Meet “Mamma Yamma”:

I’m sorry but is it just me or does that not look like a big ol’ turd? Maybe it does also look like a yam, which I assume is where the “Yamma” part comes from, but whether she’s a yam or a steaming heap of poo, there can be only one verdict: WORST. MUPPET. EVER.

Who are they kidding trying to make an adorable yam? Yams are not, nor will they ever be, cute or sexy. Delicious, yes. Loveable? No.

Also? They spelled “Mama” wrong. CBC, I could not be more disappointed!

Aug 13

On the day after our ninth anniversary….

There was a time when I wouldn’t have been happy with a simple trip into town on the subway…

…to eat dinner at a simple pub and make silly faces at the camera and laugh with the kids…

…and to stroll through the city after dinner and enjoy a fountain…

…and to ride the carousel with the kids before we head home early to put them to bed.

But last night it was enough. It was good enough to celebrate our family…

…and the fact that after nine years we’re still laughing together and enjoying the good and simple things in life.

I love you hubby.

Jul 29

Dear Public Beach Lifeguard,

What the hell kind of beach has rules against water wings??? And where do you get off enforcing rules that aren’t posted anywhere and, in my experience, have never been enforced?

While I totally understand your concern that water wings may provide parents a false sense of security, asking me to remove one little bit of confidence my daughter (who is terrified of deep water) has, is just cruel. If you want to make sure kids are safe your rules should require parents to keep kids within arms length. I’m just trying to help my kids learn to be safe and comfortable in the water and your taking away their security blanket totally screwed my strategy.

And you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t totally trust your promise to be watching my children to prevent them from drowning when there are 300 other people in your charge.  I believe it’s my responsibility to supervise my children. Your stupid slippery slope argument (“if we let you, we’ll have to let everyone”) is ridiculous. If you’re making up rules as you go, just make up another one!

Bottom line, you can’t enforce rules that aren’t posted. And you officially cemented my daughter’s hatred of deep water. Consider yourself warned: I’m bringing the water wings with us next time and if you want them, you’ll have to pry them out of my cold, dead hands.

With unmitigated hostility,
A local parent

Jun 11

Hubby is working from home in our upstairs bedroom. At some point around 4pm I go in there to say hello…

Hubby: *starts talking to me about something in a kind of loud voice*

Me: SSSSSSSSH!!!

Hubby: What?

Me: Because the kids will hear you talking and they’ll know you’re talking to me and THEY’LL COME LOOKING FOR ME! I’m HIDING!

Hubby: !!!!

Sure enough, ten seconds later the kids come running and I am leaning against the door, holding it shut while they call “DADDY! MOMMY! ARE YOU IN THERE?” and I laugh hysterically in that really-stressed-out-and-over-the-top-losing-my-mind kind of way.

Hubby eventually forces me to let the kids in. Dammit. At least he’s smart/kind enough to run interference for a few minutes while I regain my grip on my sanity.

Some days are just like that. I need a better hiding spot.

Mar 18

Just popping my head in to say “hi” and I promise there will be some content again before too long. The hubby is working about eleventy-five hours a day this month and I’m finding myself incapable of expressing coherent thought by the end of the day. Not much exciting to update you on but just so you won’t feel the trip was wasted…

  • If you were wondering, my hand is totally still sore from my visit to the den of torture lab last week. For those who are counting, that’s nine days ago. Still sore. OW. 
  • My kids had their first dental cleaning today. I know, bad mom for not having my five year old already going twice a year. What did I learn from the experience? My 2 year old is a pro and dealt with the whole thing like an exciting new experience? My daughter was anxious and nervous and although she didn’t cry or scream, she wanted to.  She is also exactly like me in that she gags easily, and generally hated every moment of sitting in the dentist’s chair, despite my best efforts to keep the atmosphere light-hearted! cheerful! isn’t this fun!!! SO! VERY! COOL! Yeah. Epic fail.
  • I don’t know if I dare say it out loud but I think spring may actually have arrived here on the seashore. And we are very happy to welcome back warmer weather with open arms. Hell, who am I kidding? I would totally make out with the crocuses growing in my flower bed if I thought it wouldn’t end badly with me rolling in the dirt.
  • I have no fourth bullet but it seems like there should be one more. As you were. 
Mar 14

When people ask me how old my kids are I have this bad habit of framing it in terms of how old they will be, instead of how old they are. I often say “He will be three in June,” instead of “Two and a half,” or even just “Two”.  As soon as they have a birthday I’m already thinking ahead to the next one, thinking in terms of the next milestone.

There are several problems with this little foible. First, it creates false expectations. I expect Kieran to behave and function like a three year old long before he turns three because I am subconsciously thinking of him as a three year old. Any parent will tell you there can be a big difference between a two year old and a three year old. Or a two-years-and-nine-months year old (his age right now) and a three year old. Or even between two three year olds. I’m all for believing in my kids, encouraging them to stretch and grow and exceed expectations, even for gently pushing them when it’s appropriate. But it’s not fair to them to have a mother who constantly expects them to behave like an older child or communicate and understand concepts beyond their years.

Which brings me to the second problem: it’s not fair to me either. I’m an idealist. I always have been. I constantly imagine how things will be better when [insert time/event/behaviour/circumstance]. The crux of waiting for fairytale endings is that it prevents me from enjoying the present. I don’t want to rob myself of the pleasure of each day of my kids’ lives.  I don’t want to miss the little moments and special things about them at the exact ages they are right now. 

I need to appreciate my five years and seven month old who wants to know about my wedding and dresses up like a bride…

… and who writes stories on a daily basis, reads proficiently, and expresses herself in such a very earnest way.  I would hate to miss the way she stomps her foot when her jacket zipper gets stuck or demands that I tell her if the Easter Bunny is REALLY real.

I love the little boy who is two years and nine months old who wants me to snuggle with him til he falls asleep each night and who I have to tell that he can’t fill his hands with rocks every time we are out on our gravel driveway. It would be a shame not to take time to appreciate the way he tries to stuff 18 markers into his tiny shirt pocket…

… or the way he runs around with a box on his head pretending to be a “bad space man” (which I know because he tells me “Mine [My] BAD Space Man!”) or constantly asks “whyyyyy mama???” or the last remnants of his babyhood that still linger even while he trying to be just like daddy by pecking away at the computer and deleting my downloads folder AGAIN.

There is so much to appreciate in each moment and it can be tricky to remember that sometimes. Here’s to this moment, and all the ones to come!

Mar 11

I just discovered that, when brushing the kids’ teeth, my husband does not rinse out the toothbrush and then brush the teeth again with the rinsed out brush so as to fully clean the toothpaste off the kids’ teeth.  Now I am extremely kind of hyper-sensitive about anything relating to toothpaste and how utterly revolting it is so I was TOTALLY APPALLED AND SHOCKED BECAUSE TOOTHPASTE LEFT ON THEIR TEETH = OMG EWWWWW!!!! a little concerned about this turn of events. I know that if people swallow toothpaste it can cause discolouration in their teeth and it seems to me that while it may be good for cleaning teeth, it should still be cleaned OFF the teeth at the end of one’s brushing routine.

My husband thinks I’m way overreacting.

So I’m turning it over to you, people. Do you typically brush with the toothpaste and then brush with the rinsed-out brush to clean the toothpaste out of your mouth? Or am I too sensitive?

Feb 26

So, as I mentioned, things were busy this past week. Some of our activities were more fun (read: less insane) than others. 

For example, going to the Boston Children’s Museum the week of winter vacation? Not smart. It seems that all of New England came out to visit the museum the same day we did and I have to say that I have a hard time enjoying these places when other peoples’ obnoxious kids are tearing around shrieking loud enough to shatter glass. Still, it’s a cool place and the kids had tonnes of fun, despite my bad attitude.

As a side note, I’ve decided that I need to chill the hell out and stop being so uptight when it comes to bubbles. In the past the kids are so excited about bubble blowing but I’ve been the bubble bottle nazi, holding the bottle for them and trying to keep them from getting soaked with soapy water. Because OMG SOAPY WATER ON THEIR CLOTHES!?!?!?! THE HORROR!!! I know, right? What kind of mother is so completely anal about soap??? This summer I’m going to complete the first in an ongoing series of de-anal-izing Lose Weight Exercises and make a huge tub of bubble water and let them go crazy with it outside. Because seriously? They could have stayed in the bubble room at the children’s museum all freaking day and if it would entertain them for a fraction of that time this summer, it would be worth it!

I also mentioned that we made the trek to the closest Rainforest Cafe with the kids last week. What I didn’t realize is that, like the children’s museum, the Rainforest Cafe is the destination du jour around here during vacation week. We arrived at the mall a couple of hours before lunch and spent some time shopping. When we finally got around to the restaurant we were told the wait was TWO AND HALF HOURS, which, I’m sorry, is just too long to wait with kids who are already tired and hungry. But the result of telling a tired and hungry 5 year old that her patience, which had been garnered only with promises of an exciting lunch-time experience, was all for naught, was…well…heartbreaking. She is such a good girl, my daughter. She didn’t throw a tantrum. There was no screaming or throwing herself to the floor. But the tears welled up and her disappointment was just so genuine. I totally understood her feelings and I can’t even say how incredibly stupid I felt for not putting our name on the damn list the second we walked INTO the mall, several hours before. We ended up eating elsewhere and promising to come back another time.

The other major destination of the week was Disney on Ice which was performing in Boston, again, over the school break. After our foray into the children’s museum I was a bit concerned about being confined to a seat for several hours, surrounded by other people’s annoying children, all hyped up on sugar and whipped into a trademarked-character-inspired frenzy. But fate was kind to us and we had pretty good seats and were surrounded by reasonably well-behaved children and parents. Watching my kids experience a show like this for the first time was truly magical and I enjoyed every minute. Seeing the show from their perspective, and their uncomplicated delight at each unexpected costume change or flying character. Misdirection totally fulfills its potential when the audience is mostly children and not cynical adults. 

So that’s what we’ve been up to. Now that we’re all caught up, tell me what you did last week.

Oct 31

It’s Halloween today. I know because my kids woke up in the middle of the night early to howl at the moon. Ok, maybe they weren’t howling at the moon. It was more of a maniacal cackling over their plans to wreak destruction and perform unspeakable acts of evil today. Evil like TORTURING THEIR MOTHER BY WAKING UP AT FIVE IN THE “BLESSED” AM. Happy freaking Halloween.

And just to clarify? Yes, Canadians DO celebrate Halloween. I’ve been asked that a number of times already and yes, we in the Great White North also indulge in trampy wacky costumes and excessive sugar on October 31. It’s not just an American custom.

I don’t do Halloween the way many people here in the states seem to do it. I don’t do the decorations and yard displays.  I don’t do the “adults investing time and money to buy and make slutty elaborate costumes and dressing up for any event where it might be considered even REMOTELY appropriate”. I don’t do dressing up. Even as a child (when I still did dress up) it was less of an exciting opportunity to be “someone else” and more of an excruciating test of creativity and, undeniably, a litmus test for popularity. I could never quite get it right. I could never come up with a funky and interesting homemade or thrift-shop costume and I didn’t have the money to just buy a cool costume. I managed to pass with some winners that I considered acceptable.  But it always felt like a test that I was somehow failing. 

So now? I don’t do it. And I’m happy with that. We carve ourselves a pumpkin or two and I dress up my kids and I enjoy that. So maybe that makes me a hypocrite? Whatevah. I refuse to feel like I’m missing out on something big by not dressing up when it makes me feel exceedingly awkward. Comfortable is the new black, y’all. And black is a Halloween colour, right?

So. I don’t dress up. I DO, however, do Halloween in the stuffing my piehole with chocolate and candy sense. Because if a holiday that’s all about candy is wrong, baby, I don’t want to be right. And isn’t it SO UNFORTUNATE that my 2 year old is still not allowed to eat anything with peanuts/peanut butter in it? It’s a complete and utter travesty that he will not be able to eat any Reese peanut butter cups until at least next year (assuming he doesn’t, in fact, have a peanut allergy) and instead, I will be forced (forced, I tell you!) to consume them in order to keep him (and my peanut allergic husband) safe.  Because that’s just the kind of dedicated mother I am. 

Happy Halloween, folks!

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