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.

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.

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.

Apr 16

It is infinitely more difficult to trim the finger/toenails of a squirmy two year old than it is to clip an infant’s. And that’s saying something!

Same goes for hair cuts with the clippers. Note to self: NEVER attempt to do that again without the hubby’s assistance. Or a size 2T straightjacket.

Mar 29

This interview has been showing up on blogs and Facebook and it seemed like fun. I wasn’t prepared for the performance anxiety my daughter experienced when I asked her to answer questions! She was very concerned about getting the answers “right”. Isn’t it fun, seeing your neuroses handed down from generation to generation? 

Anyway, we did eventually come up with answers of one kind or another for every question and here they are:

1. What is something mommy always says to you?
 Be careful.

2. What makes mommy happy?
When we do something right? 

3. What makes mommy sad?
When we do something wrong! 

4. How does your mommy make you laugh?
By tickling me. 

5. What did your mommy like to do when she was a child?
 I think it was to maybe braid her hair because it was long?

6. How old is your mommy ?
Twenty-eight I think? (She got it right!)

7. How tall is your mommy ?
About this tall (jumps and reaches as high as she can). 

8. What is her favorite thing to watch on TV?
The news. (Ummm….no! I very VERY rarely watch the news.)

9. What does your mommy do when you’re not around?
Work on your computer 

10. If your mommy becomes famous, what will it be for?
Concerts. 

11. What is your mommy really good at?
Ummm….I think…getting…untying knots. (What???)

12. What is your mommy not very good at?
 She’s not very good at maybe climbing rocks, maybe? (Probably true. Still, where did she come up with that idea?)

13. What does your mommy do for her job?
Nothing. (OUCH.)

14. What is your mommy ’s favorite food?
Onions. (Fail.)

15. What makes you proud of your mommy?
When she lets us do stuff that we want to do. 

16. If your mommy were a cartoon character, who would she be?
 Buster Baxter (from the tv show Arthur).

17. What do you and your mommy do together?
Talk. 

18. How are you and your mommy the same?
We both have blond hair. 

19. How are you and your mommy different?
You have glasses and I don’t. 

20. How do you know your mommy loves you?
Cause she tells me. 

21. What does your mommy like most about your daddy?
 I think it’s his face.

22. Where is your mommy ’s favorite place to go?
To the jewelry store? (At least, if mommy ever went there, it would probably be her favourite place!)

Mar 26

Young love strikes again. Avery and her “special friend” COBE, or Child Of Boundless Energy, (yes, this one) have formulated a plan. Because my daughter is nothing if not completely anal about planning. Which I suppose is a good thing when it comes to family planning. So behold the plan hatched by two five year olds…

Translation: We will marry each other. Then we will have a baby. After that we will feed it. After that we will give it a nap. Then we’ll go to a baby shower. Then we will play with it. Then we will go shopping and we will buy baby clothes and we will buy baby shoes. Then we will dress it. Then we will change it’s diapers.  (And the sticky note: We will name it too.)

The sticky note was glued on for good measure because we wouldn’t want to forget the all-important step of naming the infant.  The two of them came up with this “plan” at school and as soon as we got home Avery set to work to put it in writing. Because once the young man has made promises she’s not going to let him get away with any monkey business. They have a contract, dammit! The documents were brought to school the next day to be viewed and ok-ed by the prospective husband and father and with the teacher’s seal of approval as witness (a pink sticky note with her thanks to Avery for sharing her story in class), life as we know it may never be the same.

And so, with a plan in hand and a husband and child in her future, my daughter can happily relax and enjoy the next ten years of her life. Because she’s pretty sure she needs to be at least fifteen years old before she has a baby.

EEK! I’m hoping she’ll come up with another plan before then. Maybe one that involves university? Or perhaps her fairly recent fear of childbirth will resurface before then and she’ll change her mind. Otherwise a glimpse into my future would reveal a lot prescription medications and a large glass of wine. Lots and lots of wine.

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