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.

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!

Oct 15

In what some would call a providential occurrence, it so happens that today, the day on which I had planned this very post, is also Blog Action Day! It is so encouraging to see people using their blogs to speak up about important issues and to make a difference in the world because of this internet-community.

I have a friend from college who works with her husband in the Philippines. They have both done some teaching there (he still does, she is currently busy taking care of their new baby) and Jessica works with many local women doing a variety of activities, both religious and practical in nature.  Jessica recently contacted me and some other people regarding a group of twelve different women who she sees regularly and for whom she would like to grant some “wishes” as a way of showing them that people around the world care for their well-being.

I have never used this blog to ask for money before. And I don’t intend to do it frequently.  But this time I had to ask.  These dreams demand to be acknowledged and that’s what I hope to do by sharing some of them here:

“…my third wish is water: I would like water [installed in my home] because I have no money to buy water to my neighborhood. 1 peso for each bucket. but it is heavy but I cannot afford to install water” [cost to make this dream come true: $80]

“my third wish is for Restroom…everytime I feel to go to rest room I  have to go to my sister-in-law’s house, but her house is far from my house. I cannot make a temporary [restroom] by my home because we live by the river and the ground erodes so it is not save. For the [restroom] I need a hollow block and 6 pieces of cement; 300 pieces hollow block; 10 pieces round bar; 1 toilet bowl; 2 cubics sand and gravel mix; 3 pieces for wall” [cost to make this dream come true: $140]

“…[I wish] for a foam mattress to sleep on.” [cost to make this dream come true: $30]

“A bicycle. My wish is for my son to go to school at high school because sometimes he is absent because we don’t have money to pay the fare for him to get to school…” [cost to make this dream come true: $50]

“A gas range… I wish because I always cook with firewood three times a day.” [cost to make this dream come true: $80]

“Here is my wish: The roof of our home.” [cost to make this dream come true: $80]

“My wish is to have a permanent home for my family. A home for my three children together with my husband….We don’t have a permanent house to stay and we don’t have enough money to build a home just because we can’t afford yet to attempt all the materials for needs, and also my husband only working at all to support our daily needs…” [cost to make this dream come true: $1-2000]

“I wish…a floor for my house, because there are holes and sometimes the bamboo breaks when we walk on it.” [cost to make this dream come true: $50]

“I wish for…one sack rice. Even for us 1 kilo is expensive and we have to buy rice every day. It is hard to buy when there is not stable work for my husband.” [cost to make this dream come true: $35]

“My second wish is washing machine because sometimes I feel so tired to wash my clothes but if we have a washing [machine] for my family I don’t have to wash it.” [cost to make this dream come true: $100]

There you have it, people. Their biggest wishes are so simple. Food, clean and accessible water, a roof overhead and walls to shelter them. Almost every one of these twelve women asked for money to make repairs to their homes and/or roofs and some small things that would make their lives easier like furniture or a washing machine or the money to start a small business or raise animals to sell.

It’s not often that you hear the voice of poverty right from the lips of those who live it each and every day. So today, I’m asking you to hear it.  

I know everyone has their own causes and I’m sure you all support your different charities so there is no judgment if you choose not to do this. But for those who might be looking for an opportunity to make a real difference to a real person, to hear their need and say “I can fix this one thing for someone”, here is your chance.

Donations for this project will be made through an organization called Wycliffe Bible Translators. Now, I know not everyone agrees with or believes in religious organizations. But I can personally guarantee that any money you donate will go directly to one of twelve women in order to fulfill their most basic needs and to lift the burden of poverty from their shoulders.  You will get a charitable donation receipt for your donation and you can send a cheque to either the Canadian or American branches of Wycliffe. 

This is not about ideology or theology. This is about real women suffering because of a lack of money.  This is not about who is right and who is wrong. This is about being a citizen in a global community where no one deserves to live without enough food or a proper shelter over their heads.  This is about making a difference in the life of a fellow human being and I am inviting you to participate with me.

If you would like to give some money to one of these very deserving Filippino women please email me at Shannon@livinginthegray.com and I can email you directions on where to send your cheque and what other information needs to be included in order for the donation to get to the right person. The gifts are meant to be given to the women on November 19, so the sooner the cheques are sent in, the better. If you have questions for me, or for Jessica, who will be in charge of getting the money to the women, please don’t hesitate to ask (you can contact me for Jessica’s email or go straight to her blog).

Poverty is real. Today you heard (ok, read) it’s voice. Let’s use this blog thing we do to do more today.

Oct 11

If, without prompting of any kind, your child sits down before going to school in the morning and writes out a class roster which she takes to Kindergarten (without your knowledge or permission) in order to conduct a survey of her classmates to find out who likes (and doesn’t like) peanut butter and comes home with the results of her informal poll.  And if she had remembered the names of 18 of her 21 classmates and scrawled her mangled check marks besides names to indicate “yay” or “nay”.  If all these things had happened, you might have a Type A personality.

Oct 9

First means that the first time I held you in my arms I was terrified. Excited, happy, and scared. Simultaneously delighted and completely overwhelmed.


First means that your parents will always be just trying to figure out how to be parents. It means you will have parents who don’t really know what they are doing and are just making it up as they go along.

First also means that you are on an epic journey along with the people you call mother and father. Learning as you go.  Discovering the joy of many firsts together.  The exhilaration of first steps, first bike rides, and first dates will always be an extra special part of our bond because it is our first time, too. 

First means that you will often bear the brunt of the blame, be striving to meet high expectations, and feel that you always have the most restrictive rules compared to your counterpart. We notice you too much. I know this because I was first, too.

First means that you get the kind of undivided attention and concentrated vigilance in your first few years of life that only the first gets. It means you were our first great passion, the object of unending fascination and scrutiny.  We noticed everything. How could we not? 

First means, whether right or wrong, we sometimes claim your accomplishments and successes as our own. Because in some small way, your victories are ours, too. First means privileges and first means responsibility. First to delight me in ways I had never imagined. First to open my heart to sacrifice and the absolute fulfillment of you walking around holding my heart in your tiny fingers.

First. My first joy. We walked over the precipice of parenthood together, you in my arms. I gave birth to you and you birthed motherhood in me. First means you are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night.

Second means that the first time I held you in my arms I was confident and in love.  I had already learned how to be a mother and I could relax and enjoy you more fully.

Second means your parents might be over-confident, thinking they know just who you are and not always recognizing your unique and distinct gifts and challenges.

Second means your parents are more experienced, more relaxed. Second means a little more freedom a little earlier.

Second means you might sometimes dwell in the shadow of your sibling. You were not first. You will always be second. You may sometimes be disappointed in what you will interpret as your parents’ lack of enthusiasm over your achievements.  This is not the truth. But simply the harsh truth of resources spread thin.

Second means you are in the unique position of being a constant surprise. Every time someone thinks they know you based on your family history, you will be able to startle them with how very special you are. Second means your difference is part of your charm. Second also means that you might be the same. But never a duplicate. Because the second time we appreciate so much more how fleeting every moment is.

Second means you might sometimes feel overlooked. Forgotten. Second means you will think you can get away with things because of this very problem. You won’t be getting away with them. We are just much cooler than we appear. Or we have become so after a few years of experience.

Second means that “it’s not fair!” will be an important part of your vocabulary.  Second means that even as I write this I am analyzing every word to make sure I do right by both of you. Don’t think that I resent this. It is just so very important to me that you never feel that second is somehow less. Because second is such a complete and utter joy. First arrived and granted my wish, making me a mother. Second arrived and reminded me why I made the wish in the first place.

Second. My second joy. We discovered the fountain of contentment together, you in my arms. I gave birth to you and you birthed peace in me.  Second means you are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night.

Aug 22

What five year olds are good for:

-unrelenting optimism and enthusiasm
 -convincing a two year old brother to breastfeed a doll while bottlefeeding they’re own “baby”
 -small household chores (FINALLY! THANK THE SWEET BABY JESUS!) like picking up toys and clearing and setting the table
 -keeping you humble
 -making one feel loved with 45 drawings a day that say “To Mommy From Avery” and by saying frequent spontaneous “I love you”s
 -appreciating the simple, fun things in life like swinging really high and pink bubble gum and staying up past bed time
 -anticipation and the pure joy of reaching various exciting events
-creativity and imagination 

What two year olds are good for:

-sweet snuggles
 -helping one appreciate curiousity
 -empathy and concern – like a few weeks ago when I was overcome with frustration and stress and sobbed on my hubby’s shoulder and Kieran ran to me and patted my arm, saying “Tay (It’s OK) Mama! Tay!”
 -delight and wonder
 -standing on the outside of the glass shower door and watching mommy shower like it’s the freakin’ olympics and then throwing toys in the toilet while mommy shrieks, but is helpless to stop you unless she runs around naked and dripping wet
 -hiding the sticks that are part of the frame of a toy tent – we have yet to find them – suspect they endedup in the garbage without our knowledge
-very satisfying giggles

Mar 22

Here are some of the comments that Avery has amused me with this week:

Oh Canada!  We stand on guard for bees!!  Because, really, where would our fair country be if no one stood up for the helpless bee?

My brother is so squishy! As she pinches big handfuls of his flesh as though it were playdough.  Let’s make the baby into a dinosaur! Or a pizza!  Or a Christmas tree!

My favourite color is pink-with-sparkles!  Pink withOUT sparkles is only a shabby second choice.  All other non-sparkle colors are completely useless.

Mar 13

Ok so not quite a thousand words. I uploaded a lot of pictures to my flickr account recently and I wanted to post some of them. I’m sure some of you will look at them and think “Dude! You posted the exact same picture like 20 times!” I know it may appear that these are all the same. But to me they are all very different. The expressions on my kids’ faces and the ways they are moving and posing. My husband makes fun of me because I take a hundred pictures of the same event. But it’s sooo hard to choose just one. There is something special about each one. Damn you digital photography!

See how my kids just love each other so much? I only had to bribe Avery with a pony and a bucket of sugar to get her to do this. :)

 

And above Kieran concentrates as he attempts to manoeuver himself to some object which I have expressly forbidden him to touch.

And Avery getting annoyed with her mother who wants to do a photo session when she has much more important things to be doing.

 

  

 Here Avery is trying out her puddle boots. This is before she emptied all the water from the street into the boots.

This is Kieran’s “preacher pose” which I have been seeing a lot lately. I always expect to hear “I see that hand! Praise Jeeeeezus!” coming out of him when he does this.

And this is his attempt at crawling. One foot on the ground and the other kind of dragging behind. It is awkward but he is getting around.

 Just a cute smile and I love this little jacket.

 Here is Kieran eating the National Geographic Magazine I posted about a few days ago.

Feb 23

It’s been one of those days.  One of those Bad Mother Days.  One of those days when I question why the hell I ever had kids.  One of those days that I fear Child Protective Services would swoop in and remove my kids from me with great haste if they saw what kind of a mother I was today, or the thoughts going through my head.  One of those days when I question whether my kids will ever actually grow into fully functioning adults.  When I question my ability to raise them into said adults. 

Dinner was bombed by the temper tantrum that wouldn’t quit.  My husband is away tonight and for some inexplainable reason I chose to try and feed Avery food that she DOESN’T LIKE.  “I don’t like that Mommy. Yucky. It’s yucky and I don’t like it.  No Mommy. I don’t like it and I don’t want to eat it.” And. So. On.

For some reason I just didn’t want to lose this battle tonight.  Instead I chose to muster of the energy to fight for two straight hours.  It ended with dinner being spilled on the floor (not completely intentionally) and a spanking and crying and weeping and gnashing of teeth and a partridge in a pear tree.  Well not so much that last part.  But Oh My WORD was there not enough drama in my life? Clearly not. 

I didn’t even deal with her until the baby was put to bed. And then we talked about exactly why she was being punished.  I was angry and frustrated.  Why can’t the child just eat what is put in front of her?  WHYYYY???  When I told her I was very, very sad that she wouldn’t eat her dinner she throws her arms around me, saying “It’s ok Mommy!” 

I let this go on and on and I could have stopped it at any time. I could have prevented what I KNEW would turn into a nightmare by picking something more palatable for her on a night that I have no backup.  But no, I didn’t.  And I was cold and mean.  And I spanked her.  On her rear where she has bad rash that I had totally forgotten about.  That sound you hear?  That’s the sound of karma winding up to kick my ass.  Yes, she is three and she is going to have these tantrums. But today? I could have done better.  So her willingness to comfort me was heartbreaking in the most bittersweet way.

I bathed her and got her ready for bed. And then we just cuddled on the couch until she fell asleep in my arms.  Which was beautiful and peaceful. I so rarely get to hold her when she’s sleeping anymore.  And now I will have myself a good little cry and hope to do better tomorrow.  It’s so hard to know when to fight and when to let it go and which battles are going to turn your child into a drug-addict-deadbeat-loser and which are going to mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. And it’s also hard to know when you’re just taking out your stress on the child because you’re having a bad week and you aren’t grown up enough to know better. 

Maybe tomorrow I’ll know better.  Please don’t report me!