Jun 7

Dear Avery,

In the last week you learned to ride your bike without training wheels. I can’t tell you how proud I was to see you finally get the hang of it. You’ve been working on it for a couple of summers now and there was more than one day when you cried in frustration and at least one day when you insisted you would never be able to do it. So when you were finally able to get going on that bike the victory in your face was pure joy for both of us. I’m not ashamed to say I shed a tear or too when you finally got it.

Every day you take another step away from me. You began by riding your bike up and down the sidewalk in front of our house and the house next door.  You soon graduated to going up and down the sidewalk the full length of the street. But before long that wasn’t far enough. You began to beg to go around the block alone. This is something we’ve never let you do for several reasons. First, your sense of direction is not yet that great. Second, we live on a fairly large, and not exactly rectangular block. Third, the last time I walked around the block with you allowing you to “lead the way” you would have made half a dozen wrong turns and ended up somewhere across the river if I hadn’t been there to keep you on the right path. But, after biking around the block with Daddy once, I finally relented and gave my permission for you to go around the block by yourself. Once.

Every day you take another step away from me. In a few minutes you were back and breathless and triumphant. “I didn’t fall once!” you told me excitedly. “Can I go again?” So you went again. And again. And again and again and again. The next day you went at it again. Yesterday you must have gone around the block 25 or 30 times.

Every day you take another step away from me. Independence is addictive. You are now hooked on the sweet taste of freedom and I would be a fool not to recognize that there is no turning back. I thought walking was independence. Then I thought being potty-trained was independence. And then I thought starting school was really truly independence because you would be off all day doing things without me. But this really feels like IT. For the first time you can take yourself places under your own power. Of course we have rules about where and when you can take off but suddenly this whole new world has opened up to you and there’s no going back and you are stepping away from me again.

This independence thing is hard for me. As much as I want to always keep you within eyesight I am forcing myself to keep practicing letting you go because the satisfaction and pride in your eyes when you succeed feels marginally better than wrapping you in bubble wrap and holding you close to keep you from getting hurt. But I’m not going to lie, I am not loving this.

Every day you take another step away from me and even though I don’t like it and I want to keep you close, I couldn’t be prouder when I watch you go. I love you sweet girl.

Love,
Mommy

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

Dec 16

Dear Three Year Old,

I know you don’t remember the first year of your life or the way I was a total wreck because of never getting to sleep through the night perfectly delightful all the time but you can trust me, I was. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that you are three, or any specific developmental phase or the fact that you just don’t want to go to sleep in your own bed, but the multiple night-time trips to wake me up t is taking it’s toll my darling.

I fully appreciate your vivid imagination and how it is constantly evaluating the likelihood that a monster of unimaginable horror is about to burst out of your closet and violate the sanctity of your bedroom, but I’m going to need you to get a grip here pretty soon. Although I want to be compassionate, I also want to be well rested.  In a contest between maternal love and blessed slumber, sleep is going to win every time. And sleep is less than restful when it is routinely interrupted by “Um…..mum?”.

Sweetheart, I’m not above playing the Santa card and threatening a call to the North Pole if you don’t knock it off. It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s just that you deserve a mother who is not an ogre. So please, my angel, let’s put an end to the nightly visits so I can once again be a moderately pleasant human being dazzle the world with my spectacular mothering while shooting rainbows out of my rear end.

Affectionately yours,
Mommy

Dec 11

Avery has not even lost her first tooth and the whole ordeal has been completely traumatizing already. Her first loose tooth showed up around Thanksgiving. It was a much anticipated event and she wasted no time. She talked constantly about what it would be like to finally have lost a tooth! I’m not sure what exactly she is expecting but she’s pretty sure it’s going to be magical. The tooth fairy stuff sounds pretty good to her, too.

Alas, we are two months past the initial excitement and only JUST getting to the point where the tooth could be considered almost loose enough to pull. Is it just me or is that a REALLY long time? (Oh yes, for my American friends, when I said her tooth became loose at Thanksgiving I meant Canadian Thanksgiving which was the second Monday in October).  I remember it taking a few days or a week for a loose tooth to come out when I was a child. This is bordering on absurd.

Back to the trauma…it’s the pulling that’s scarring us all. We’ve now tried to pull it about half a dozen times with no success. We seem to be failing at one of the central tenets of parenthood – the tooth extraction. The hubby manages to elicit great sobbing wails every time he makes an attempt – usually because he is trying to pull out her gums and not just the tooth. I do not seem to cause as much agony but perhaps that’s just because I’m not pulling hard enough? Or maybe we have jumped the gun altogether and are attempting to pull the tooth prematurely? Regardless, the result is TRAUMA.

At the rate we are going she’ll still just start losing teeth as she enters high school. And nothing says “Ridicule me” like a 14 year old missing her two front teeth. I can hear it now: “My name ith Avery and I am thuper exthited to be thtarting high thchool!”

If you’re looking for me, I’ll be researching reputable therapists in the area. I’m sure Avery is going to have a lot to talk about.

Nov 22

I’ve been back from my trip for a few days now and I can’t decide if it feels like I never left or if I’ve been ruined for normal life forever. I’ll tell you this, traveling alone is a pleasure that may only be fully appreciated by parents of small children or others who spend their days being responsible for Very Demanding People. Maybe I came off as antisocial but I didn’t care at all because I was ALONE! And I read a book and ate my snacks and enjoyed every single minute of my aloneness.

Visiting my friend and her son was a real pleasure, too, of course!

And what was my poor, abandoned family doing while I was living it up traveling and having some quality girl-talk? Did my babies miss me? In a word: NO. In fact, they had so much fun that by two days after my departure they were asking their father why they don’t have this much fun when mommy is around?

Ahem.

There is nothing to be done but for me to take more frequent sabbaticals so that my darlings can experience more joy in life. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the good of my offspring. I’m giving like that

Nov 12

I have all these things I want to post about but all I can think about today is that I’M GOING ON A TRIP Y’ALL! Just me. Alone. No husband. More notably, NO KIDS! It’s my first overnight trip away from Kieran who is 3 and a half years old – in other words PAR-TAY!!! I’m going to visit my BFF and her husband and their totally delicious six month old baby who I haven’t yet had the chance to nom on in person. To say I’m excited would be the understatement of the year!

I’m not sure I remember how to just sit on a plane and entertain only myself. I only have to take MYSELF to the bathroom! I only have to keep track of MY OWN bags! I only have to talk to and think about and worry about MYSELF for 2 blissful flights! I’m going to have to remind myself not to lean over and change the tv channels or offer snacks or wipe the faces of my fellow passengers. Maybe I’ll be lucky and have a row to myself.

If you happen to be flying in Western Canada tonight and you hear someone giggling madly or sighing ecstatically, it might just be me.

Aug 6

Dear Avery and Kieran,

I often wonder what you will remember about this time in your lives. There have been a lot of changes in the last couple of years and they aren’t over yet.  I know you will adjust and life will settle down again as it always does. Routine inevitably falls over us like a familiar blanket. But I wonder…

…I wonder if Avery will remember her first sweetheart. A neighbour and classmate who she bonded with early in the school year and before a few months were through, had pledged to marry. Will she remember his possessive and sometimes manipulative and hurtful behaviour in order to keep her attention focused solely on him? Or will she simply remember their unabashed affection for each other and the way they simply felt comfortable playing together. Their innocent acceptance of each other and their bold plans for the future, despite any attempts by her parents to convince her that she *might* change her mind in the future.

(Yes, she looks like she’s yelling at him here, but she really wasn’t. And just seconds before they were sitting there with their arms slung around each others shoulders and it was just so cute!)

…I wonder if Kieran will remember his constant fluctuating between fear of everything from the bathroom towel to the dark to sounds in the night and putting on the bold and brave act. Will he remember telling me that he’s a “superhero” and his super powers are “killing bugs…aaand…spiders….and skeetos…and bad things” and that his super powers are “geen (green)”?

…I wonder if Avery will remember her unwavering devotion to mothering her “babies”. Each new doll was welcomed into the fold and her delight delighted me.

…I wonder if Kieran will remember roasting “smushmellows” or constantly asking “Why you doin’ dat Mommy? WHY?” with always the same format: Why_____________? Why?

…I wonder if you will remember the first time you went to the circus and neither of you blinked for the whole performance because you were so enthralled.

…I wonder if you will remember playing outside from dawn to dusk, wearing nothing but a bathing suit and only stopping for snacks and bathroom breaks. Will you remember running around with popsicles melting all over your hands and even after twelve consecutive hours of constant action, you are still reluctant to come inside, until we settle down to read stories and you fall asleep before the book is finished.

…I wonder if you will remember the way you alternately loved and hated each other. Playing for hours without a problem and then fighting like cats and dogs the next. I guess that will continue for years to come but I hope the memories of the fun you had together will be stronger.

I know I will always remember the feel of hugs from sweaty, sticky children who smell like sunshine and the way new freckles popped up on Kieran’s nose every day until he was covered just like his daddy and how Avery grew what felt like six inches in a summer and suddenly felt like such a big kid to me. I will remember birthday cakes and shaking the sand off our feet after a day at the beach and the smell of a fresh coat of sunscreen and the sound of the ocean lapping at the shore while your happy shrieks and giggles sounded in the background.

Jun 10

It’s getting on nearly a year since I bragged wrote about my son getting ready to potty-train. And, as most of you probably predicted, but were kind enough not to say, the universe punished my hesitance to embrace potty-training by giving me a child that only teased me with regular, but inconsistent, potty-use for months afterward.

His interest waned and because we believe in the lazy man’s child-led potty-training method, we occasionally put him in underwear when we were around the house, only to have him pee all over the place and not show the least discomfort or distress despite being soaked in urine.

So. Loud and clear, universe.

Forward to one week before the approaching third birthday. The previous weekends had included numerous attempts at regular potty use with limited success. And then the universe relented and the boy was suddenly interested AND motivated (the golden ticket, in my opinion). He had finally decided that diapers were annoying and gross. Voila! Potty trained!

Since then we’ve had minimal accidents and it’s mostly been smooth sailing (KNOCK ON WOOD). A win for half-assed parenting! Take that, universe!

We celebrated by eating cake.

Three and diaper free, baby!

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

On that note, I’ve been thinking about something that was brought to my attention recently, which is the suggestion that parents share too much on Facebook about the mundane details of their (or their child’s) lives. I believe the concept extends to blogs and other forms of social media, too. You’ll have to read the article to get the full extent of the issue (original article here).

While I totally get that the routine events of child-rearing may not be fascinating to childless people, what I do not get is the aggressive and offensive response. It’s Facebook, for crying out loud, not the New York Times! Shouldn’t a person have the right to say what they want on their own Facebook profile (or blog)? People who don’t like it don’t have to read it. It’s easy to block a person on Facebook.

Yes, there is definitely such a thing as tact, and perhaps sometimes day upon day of cleaning up bodily fluids can desensitize a parent to what is appropriate to proclaim for all the world to see. But really? We’re going to get up in arms about poop?

Listen, childless people may not get this and I don’t blame them if it seems like a dumb thing to get excited about, but potty-training is extremely important. As is the first time your child smiles, or the first time they sit unassisted or the first time they eat real food. Parents get excited about developmental milestones because it’s evidence that we are successfully raising our children to become independent human beings, which is supposed to be the goal, isn’t it?

You may not like to think about it, but at one point someone had to change your diapers, too. Someone celebrated when you learned to use the toilet, and not just because they no longer had to deal with shitty diapers.

Potty-training is one of the last major hurdles on the road to a child’s physical independence. Yes, I know we still have to provide food and shelter and remind our kids not to pick their noses. We still have to see them safely through childhood and get them educated and keep them from turning into potheads. But using the toilet signals the end to a child’s reliance on adults for keeping his or her body clean and it shows that the child is ready to take responsibility for his or her  bodily functions. Is it crude or impolite to talk about this? I don’t think so. As much as it might make people squeamish or want to roll their eyes, every step along the road of development is worth celebrating and parents should have the right to discuss it on Facebook or their personal corner of the internet.

No one is telling people without children that they have to like it or find it captivating. But I hope that those without children can learn to appreciate that some things are part of the human life cycle and, like it or not, as fellow humans they are a part of that cycle. Just because you may not understand something, does not make it wrong. And just because something seems uninteresting to one person, does not mean it can’t be highly significant to another.

Unless we want a generation of adults wearing Depends or drinking from bottles, a victory on the potty is a victory for us all!

May 21

I never thought I would enjoy it as much as I did…

May 6

Tonight, in a fit of pre-bedtime hyperactivity Kieran grabs my face in his two hands and says “Mommy! Yous give me BA-NA-NAS!“ 

I’m pretty sure he meant “You drive me bananas!” but I’ll be darned if I ever say it that way again.

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