Wednesdays are kind of crazy in our house: first J, our 2.5 year old, has a parent and tot swimming lesson at 9:30am at the local Y. Although the lesson is only a half-hour, I can NEVER get him out of the pool when it's done, and we're always at least an hour in the pool, plus time to get dressed again, pick up our 5 year old from his activities (he goes to Senior Kindergarten on opposite days, so he's home on Wednesdays), and drive home, often having to stop at the grocery store for some reason, and quite possibly not getting home until lunchtime.
I make lunches, I do dishes, I possibly eat something myself. I have a bit of time on the computer, during naptime, and then the girls are home from school, and before I know it we're getting ready to go back to the Y for swimming lessons for the other 3 kids, which go until 5:30. It's usually 5:45 before we get out of there. Since it costs a fortune for 6 people to have a fast food meal, when we get home I have to put a quick dinner together (unless I was smart/industrious enough to make something ahead of time to reheat). Then it's dinner, bath, bedtime. If I'm in the midst of a show, I often have rehearsals on Wednesday nights, too, making it even more chaotic.
So, when I looked around at the disaster I call my living room this morning, I seriously considered skipping the toddler's swim lesson. He loves them, but he is still at the age where he doesn't get the concept of dates and times, so if we go, he's happy. If we don't go, he doesn't know the difference. I could get away with not going, get my living room cleaned up, the dishes done (our dishwasher died recently - RIP - and my life has become about washing dishes), and maybe even put away some of the mountain of clean laundry that's currently residing at the end of my bed. I have a friend stopping by this morning, and I hate the idea of her seeing the way that we live (not that she doesn't already know, I'm sure, but I'd like to think she doesn't).
We're going to swimming lessons, though. I'll get back here as soon as I can wrestle the water baby out of the pool, and try to tidy up, but we're going. I thought about it, and then I had another thought: he won't be this small for much longer. In another 5 months, he'll be moving into "big kid" swimming lessons like his brother and sisters. He won't want to stand on the side of the pool and jump into my arms. He won't cling to me when the water gets too deep. He won't want me there beside him. He'll want to do it all by himself.
I know that's what we should be striving for as parents. We want our kids to develop that independence. But it's also bittersweet, especially when it's your last baby. Every milestone is met with joy, but also the realization that it's the last time that it will happen.
So today, my house is going to stay messy. The dishes will get done, eventually, the living room will stay chaotic, and Mount Laundry will just have to wait. I'm going swimming.
Showing posts with label musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label musings. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Thoughts on the "Circle of Hell"
I'll warn you in advance, I'm feeling "spicy" today.
My motivation? The kindergarten drop-off at my kids' school.
Since the Ontario kindergarten program lasts two years, I currently have two kids in kindergarten at our local public school. The "JKs" go on Monday, Wednesday and approximately every other Friday. The "SKs" go on the opposite days. That means I have someone to drop off at the kindergarten yard every morning.
The way our school's drop-off works is that the main drop-off is a line directly in front of the main part of the school. There is another lane which by-passes this drop-off lane and can either exit the parking lot or go to a circle at the end, by the kindergarten classrooms. This Circle of Hell is the kindergarten drop-off.
Public school drop-offs are bad are the best of times, but this kindergarten drop-off is a new level of torment. The circle can comfortably accommodate about 7-8 cars at a time. The very fact that it's in a circle makes it very difficult to parallel park to begin with, so when someone vacates a spot in the middle that you have to squeeze into, it's never fun.
The worst problem of all, though, is with parents who get their kids out, take them over to the fenced-in kindergarten yard, let them inside of said fence, and then STAND THERE. They will stand and chat with other parents, all the while watching their little darlings chat with THEIR friends and run around the concrete "yard". Some of them will stand there until the bell rings, or even longer.
As I said, there is room for about 7-8 cars at any given time. There are, I believe, four kindergarten classes each day, each with between 17-20 children. Not all of them come by car, obviously, but suppose that even half of them do: that's about 35-40 kids needing to be dropped off in the circle of hell. If 4 of those 7-8 spots are claimed for the entire 10-15 minute drop-off period, you can imagine the chaos that is caused.
Last year in one of the kindergarten newsletters, the teachers gently encouraged parents to "foster independence" by dropping off their children in the fenced-in, ADULT-SUPERVISED yard and then leaving. This worked, for about a week. There is never anyone outside the yard, "encouraging" parents to not stand around, so the chaos returned in no time.
As I navigated the COH this morning, I contemplated what this all meant. Okay, maybe contemplated wasn't a good word. More like fumed.
I wrote a post a while back about the child-free movement, and how they needed to back off those of us who choose to raise the next generation. I still stand by that, but when did we become entitled to so much selfishness purely by the virtue of being a parent? When did the perceived safety - giving the benefit of the doubt that these parents aren't just standing there to chat with other parents - of our own children become permission to disrupt everyone else's life? Yes, we need to be given some leeway to get through life as a family of 3, 4, 5 or more, but when the others around you have the same issues, why are yours more important? What about the parents who need to get in and out of the COH to get to work? Or people who may end up having car accidents trying to navigate around those who park in strange places because none of the actual spots are available?
This isn't just a parking lot rant, although I could go on much longer about this (believe me!) It's just the little things that I see every day. For example, why does a parent feel they need to pressure a nurse at a walk-in clinic to hurry everyone else up, when all of the people ahead of them are just as sick?
I think it comes down to common courtesy, which is, sadly, missing in so many cases these days. I know I've been guilty of it at times, but perhaps, as parents, we need to learn to BREATHE more, and think that not every situation is life-threatening (ie. being in a fenced-in playground with adult supervision!) and our children, while they mean the world to us, are not more important than everyone else's.
My motivation? The kindergarten drop-off at my kids' school.
Since the Ontario kindergarten program lasts two years, I currently have two kids in kindergarten at our local public school. The "JKs" go on Monday, Wednesday and approximately every other Friday. The "SKs" go on the opposite days. That means I have someone to drop off at the kindergarten yard every morning.
The way our school's drop-off works is that the main drop-off is a line directly in front of the main part of the school. There is another lane which by-passes this drop-off lane and can either exit the parking lot or go to a circle at the end, by the kindergarten classrooms. This Circle of Hell is the kindergarten drop-off.
Public school drop-offs are bad are the best of times, but this kindergarten drop-off is a new level of torment. The circle can comfortably accommodate about 7-8 cars at a time. The very fact that it's in a circle makes it very difficult to parallel park to begin with, so when someone vacates a spot in the middle that you have to squeeze into, it's never fun.
The worst problem of all, though, is with parents who get their kids out, take them over to the fenced-in kindergarten yard, let them inside of said fence, and then STAND THERE. They will stand and chat with other parents, all the while watching their little darlings chat with THEIR friends and run around the concrete "yard". Some of them will stand there until the bell rings, or even longer.
As I said, there is room for about 7-8 cars at any given time. There are, I believe, four kindergarten classes each day, each with between 17-20 children. Not all of them come by car, obviously, but suppose that even half of them do: that's about 35-40 kids needing to be dropped off in the circle of hell. If 4 of those 7-8 spots are claimed for the entire 10-15 minute drop-off period, you can imagine the chaos that is caused.
Last year in one of the kindergarten newsletters, the teachers gently encouraged parents to "foster independence" by dropping off their children in the fenced-in, ADULT-SUPERVISED yard and then leaving. This worked, for about a week. There is never anyone outside the yard, "encouraging" parents to not stand around, so the chaos returned in no time.
As I navigated the COH this morning, I contemplated what this all meant. Okay, maybe contemplated wasn't a good word. More like fumed.
I wrote a post a while back about the child-free movement, and how they needed to back off those of us who choose to raise the next generation. I still stand by that, but when did we become entitled to so much selfishness purely by the virtue of being a parent? When did the perceived safety - giving the benefit of the doubt that these parents aren't just standing there to chat with other parents - of our own children become permission to disrupt everyone else's life? Yes, we need to be given some leeway to get through life as a family of 3, 4, 5 or more, but when the others around you have the same issues, why are yours more important? What about the parents who need to get in and out of the COH to get to work? Or people who may end up having car accidents trying to navigate around those who park in strange places because none of the actual spots are available?
This isn't just a parking lot rant, although I could go on much longer about this (believe me!) It's just the little things that I see every day. For example, why does a parent feel they need to pressure a nurse at a walk-in clinic to hurry everyone else up, when all of the people ahead of them are just as sick?
I think it comes down to common courtesy, which is, sadly, missing in so many cases these days. I know I've been guilty of it at times, but perhaps, as parents, we need to learn to BREATHE more, and think that not every situation is life-threatening (ie. being in a fenced-in playground with adult supervision!) and our children, while they mean the world to us, are not more important than everyone else's.
Monday, August 16, 2010
You Don't Know What You Think You Know
I love Twitter. I have become an absolute Tweetaholic. It reminds me of when I first "met" a lot of moms on the BabyCenter message boards. It also gives me an outlet for my obsession with a certain boy band, but that's another article for a different blog!
On Twitter, I'm now following probably over 150 other parents, and what's great is there are just as many of them that have parenting philosophies radically different from mine as there are who think in a similar way to me. I know that when I log on, I'm going to laugh knowingly, be angry in solidarity, be challenged and sometimes made downright angry. Many, if not all of these parents are bloggers as well, and I try to read as many articles as I reasonably can.
So it wasn't unusual for me to click a link in a post about a week ago. What was unusual, for me, was what happened next. I saw a blog that I hadn't seen before. The person who "tweeted" the link was a 17-year-old teen mom. Up until then I'd been pretty impressed with her. She'd obviously taken her job as a mom very seriously and was very devoted to her son. I knew she had some pretty strong opinions, but I'm not against people being opinionated, so it was all right.
At least, until she posted this link. It wasn't her own blog. It was the blog of a mom who had adopted a little girl after a long battle with infertility, only to then get pregnant and have another little girl. The two girls were five months apart in age. This particular blog entry was about her "sleep training" the two girls. She apparently brought in a professional to help get the girls to sleep through the night.
I'm not going to get into my opinions on the infamous "cry it out" (CIO) approach. That's not the point of this. What I was shocked by were her comments to this mom, and how proud she was of them. She was outright rude and MEAN. For example:
She kept telling me that no matter what, her opinions will never change, and she will never think that she was wrong. She told me that judgement was a part of life. She said that "everyone is rude. it's human nature."
And so, now that I've had time to cool down from that "conversation", here is my response.
An Open Letter to All Parents
Dear Mom and/or Dad:
We all have opinions. Some of us are stronger in our convictions than others. Some parents read everything they can get their hands on, all of the newest research, before making any decisions. Some go mostly by instinct. The vast majority of parents are doing the very best that they can, given their family situation, their mental and physical health and that of their children, their finances, their education... There are just so many factors in our personal parenting philosophy.
But smart parents know one thing: when it comes right down to it, we KNOW very little. We estimate, we guess, we hope, but we DON'T KNOW. One expert says that CIO is child abuse, another says that science shows it not to be as cruel as it may seem. Breastfeeding raises IQs and increases overall health, so obviously formula babies are going to be stupid and sick? Nursing in public is rude and gross, or it's completely natural. Babies should be worn or held as much as possible, or it's okay for them to cry once in a while, so that mom can make dinner or do something for one of her other children.
We make decisions every minute of every day, and whether we like to admit it or not, we make judgements about other parents based on our own personal philosophy.
Those judgements, though, except in extreme cases, should be kept private. There is no honour in being "right." You will not get a parenting medal. Just like the fact that no one will give you awards for having a "natural" childbirth versus opting for an epidural, no one will laud you for suffering through years of a child who wakes up every hour, rather than trying to help them learn to sleep.
We do what we can, as parents, and for most of us, it's an ever-changing experience. In my post Things I Used to Judge Other Moms for Until I had More than One Kid I talked about how much my thinking had changed on a lot of issues since I had my first "perfect" baby. You see things a lot differently when you have two or three (or four or more) CHILDREN running around, than you do when you have one sleeping angel in an infant carrier. You change and mature as you get older, no matter how old you were when you first became "Mom" or "Dad."
I feel sorry for anyone who thinks they know it all: there is so much to learn in this world, and you're missing out on it because you already "know" so you don't need to listen to anyone else.
It's great that you're confident in your parenting. I wish we could all feel like that. Truly, though, when I see someone lash out at someone else's decision-making as a parent, I see someone who doesn't feel nearly as confident as they want the world to believe.
Judging others may be "a part of life", but emotional attacks don't have to be.
PS - You can follow me on Twitter @8thCyn
On Twitter, I'm now following probably over 150 other parents, and what's great is there are just as many of them that have parenting philosophies radically different from mine as there are who think in a similar way to me. I know that when I log on, I'm going to laugh knowingly, be angry in solidarity, be challenged and sometimes made downright angry. Many, if not all of these parents are bloggers as well, and I try to read as many articles as I reasonably can.
So it wasn't unusual for me to click a link in a post about a week ago. What was unusual, for me, was what happened next. I saw a blog that I hadn't seen before. The person who "tweeted" the link was a 17-year-old teen mom. Up until then I'd been pretty impressed with her. She'd obviously taken her job as a mom very seriously and was very devoted to her son. I knew she had some pretty strong opinions, but I'm not against people being opinionated, so it was all right.
At least, until she posted this link. It wasn't her own blog. It was the blog of a mom who had adopted a little girl after a long battle with infertility, only to then get pregnant and have another little girl. The two girls were five months apart in age. This particular blog entry was about her "sleep training" the two girls. She apparently brought in a professional to help get the girls to sleep through the night.
I'm not going to get into my opinions on the infamous "cry it out" (CIO) approach. That's not the point of this. What I was shocked by were her comments to this mom, and how proud she was of them. She was outright rude and MEAN. For example:
If you couldn't stand not sleeping then you shouldnt of adopted or tried so dam hard to have a baby. I am a teen mom and I even no better than to let my son cry his brains out. Keep your promise to the birth mother and take care of that child. Dont let the poor baby feel like it has no body.And after the mom responded to her hateful comments, she replied with:
its sad how you adopt a child but cannot make sure that child gets the absolute best. isnt that why the child was up for adoption? to get the very best? you seem to be uncomfortable with knowing your adoptive child is adopted. Maybe thats why you take it out on your own child and let her cry for 2 hours? sleep schedules only work because that baby learns that no one is coming. babies dont know time. 20 minutes to them is forever.I couldn't just let it go. Despite being quite opinionated myself, I try very hard not to personally attack anyone over their beliefs. So I responded to her, both on the blog, and on Twitter. She and I ended up in quite a fight that day.
no bottles? no boobie? dont you go to sleep with some kind of comfort? but your child has to go to sleep all by herself with nothing to comfort them? horrible.
She kept telling me that no matter what, her opinions will never change, and she will never think that she was wrong. She told me that judgement was a part of life. She said that "everyone is rude. it's human nature."
And so, now that I've had time to cool down from that "conversation", here is my response.
An Open Letter to All Parents
Dear Mom and/or Dad:
We all have opinions. Some of us are stronger in our convictions than others. Some parents read everything they can get their hands on, all of the newest research, before making any decisions. Some go mostly by instinct. The vast majority of parents are doing the very best that they can, given their family situation, their mental and physical health and that of their children, their finances, their education... There are just so many factors in our personal parenting philosophy.
But smart parents know one thing: when it comes right down to it, we KNOW very little. We estimate, we guess, we hope, but we DON'T KNOW. One expert says that CIO is child abuse, another says that science shows it not to be as cruel as it may seem. Breastfeeding raises IQs and increases overall health, so obviously formula babies are going to be stupid and sick? Nursing in public is rude and gross, or it's completely natural. Babies should be worn or held as much as possible, or it's okay for them to cry once in a while, so that mom can make dinner or do something for one of her other children.
We make decisions every minute of every day, and whether we like to admit it or not, we make judgements about other parents based on our own personal philosophy.
Those judgements, though, except in extreme cases, should be kept private. There is no honour in being "right." You will not get a parenting medal. Just like the fact that no one will give you awards for having a "natural" childbirth versus opting for an epidural, no one will laud you for suffering through years of a child who wakes up every hour, rather than trying to help them learn to sleep.
We do what we can, as parents, and for most of us, it's an ever-changing experience. In my post Things I Used to Judge Other Moms for Until I had More than One Kid I talked about how much my thinking had changed on a lot of issues since I had my first "perfect" baby. You see things a lot differently when you have two or three (or four or more) CHILDREN running around, than you do when you have one sleeping angel in an infant carrier. You change and mature as you get older, no matter how old you were when you first became "Mom" or "Dad."
I feel sorry for anyone who thinks they know it all: there is so much to learn in this world, and you're missing out on it because you already "know" so you don't need to listen to anyone else.
It's great that you're confident in your parenting. I wish we could all feel like that. Truly, though, when I see someone lash out at someone else's decision-making as a parent, I see someone who doesn't feel nearly as confident as they want the world to believe.
Judging others may be "a part of life", but emotional attacks don't have to be.
PS - You can follow me on Twitter @8thCyn
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Hello, Hello... Is There Anybody Out There?
I've been "Mom" since just before I turned 25. Before then, being alone in the house was never a big deal. I grew up with just my mom, so I was used to solitude. Our house was a very quiet one, even when both of us were there, but the older I got in my teens, the less often that happened anyway.
The last summer before I went to university, my grandfather was dying and my mom basically moved in to his apartment to take care of him. I stayed home, working at my summer job.
My husband and I were married for almost four years before our oldest joined the family. Although we were together a lot, there were occasions when one of us was out for a while.
It's something you take for granted, before you have kids. The ability to just BE. No one asking you to do anything. No one complaining over what you watch on television. You can listen to whatever music you want. You can sit and read a book and no one interrupts.
Tonight, for the first time in a long time, I am in the house... ALONE. My husband and kids are spending the night at his parents' place on the lake, visiting with our nephews who are here for a few weeks. Because I have to work tomorrow, it just made more sense for me to not join them. And so I'm here. In the house. By myself.
I actually went to the gym straight after work, and did a good, long workout, feeling absolutely no guilt about not being home to help out, because there was no one at home waiting for me. Then I came home, ate my dinner, such as it was, and watched television while playing online. All at a time when normally I'd be begging my three-year-old to stay in his bed.
But now I'm starting to wonder: what exactly do I do with myself now? It's nearly 9:30, and since I have to get up for work in the morning, I'm not about to go out with friends (I'm not 21 anymore, that's for sure!) It's too early to go to bed. There's nothing I really want to watch on television. So, I'm blogging.
I'm glad that they'll be back tomorrow night, hopefully when I get home from work, because honestly, the quiet is creeping me out!
So, parents, when was the last time that YOU were alone in your house?
The last summer before I went to university, my grandfather was dying and my mom basically moved in to his apartment to take care of him. I stayed home, working at my summer job.
My husband and I were married for almost four years before our oldest joined the family. Although we were together a lot, there were occasions when one of us was out for a while.
It's something you take for granted, before you have kids. The ability to just BE. No one asking you to do anything. No one complaining over what you watch on television. You can listen to whatever music you want. You can sit and read a book and no one interrupts.
Tonight, for the first time in a long time, I am in the house... ALONE. My husband and kids are spending the night at his parents' place on the lake, visiting with our nephews who are here for a few weeks. Because I have to work tomorrow, it just made more sense for me to not join them. And so I'm here. In the house. By myself.
I actually went to the gym straight after work, and did a good, long workout, feeling absolutely no guilt about not being home to help out, because there was no one at home waiting for me. Then I came home, ate my dinner, such as it was, and watched television while playing online. All at a time when normally I'd be begging my three-year-old to stay in his bed.
But now I'm starting to wonder: what exactly do I do with myself now? It's nearly 9:30, and since I have to get up for work in the morning, I'm not about to go out with friends (I'm not 21 anymore, that's for sure!) It's too early to go to bed. There's nothing I really want to watch on television. So, I'm blogging.
I'm glad that they'll be back tomorrow night, hopefully when I get home from work, because honestly, the quiet is creeping me out!
So, parents, when was the last time that YOU were alone in your house?
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
"The Breeders" vs. "The Child-Free": What's the Point?
I've mentioned before my loathing of The Mommy Wars. My new issue, though, is with the war between parents and non-parents (AKA The Breeders vs The Child-Free-by-Choice). It amazes me how much antagonism there is between the two "sides." I was reading a blog entry by Ann Douglas and I saw yet again the comments from the CFBC side, stating that people shouldn't have kids if they're not prepared to a) pay for everything themselves with no help from anyone, ever and b) ever leave the house to go somewhere "grown-up" with their kids, lest someone's else's evening be ruined by the mere presence of a child.
This was not a nice, intelligent debate about whether children should be allowed in restaurants, or whether governments should supply financial assistance to families. This was nasty. This was spewing hate right off the screen and into my lap while I read.
I can accept that some people simply don't wish to have children. As a matter of fact, if you truly don't want, or even LIKE children, I'd politely ask that you refrain from procreation, for the sake of your potential child(ren) and everyone in society who will, in future, have to deal with their psychological issues because Mommy and/or Daddy didn't "want me."
However, if you don't wish to have children, I would think that it would be in your best interest to support those who do. I'm not referring to you handing over half of your salary each week to supply my kids with McDonalds' toys and Pokemon cards; I simply mean, be good to those who do have children.
Have patience with children in places that you might not normally see them, because those children are learning - sometimes slowly - how to behave in adult situations.
Don't be rude about babies and children on airplanes: they're travelling, and learning about the world around them so that someday they will have an understanding of people and places far away.
Don't throw a fit over government assistance to families. Yes, we chose to have children, but it's an expensive proposition, and we already give up more than you think for the priviledge of raising children. Unexpected things happen to everyone, and not everyone can always be prepared for any eventuality.
Don't complain over education taxes: you went through the education system once, and the children who are going through it today are the ones who will be the politicians making decisions, the lawyers working in the justice system, and the doctors who save your life someday. The children you complain about today could turn out to be the nurse who looks after you in the retirement home, when you have no children or grandchildren to come and visit you. The children you complain about today will someday be taxpaying, contributing members of the society who look after you, when you're not able to look after yourself.
So is a little compassion for those children really too much to ask?
This was not a nice, intelligent debate about whether children should be allowed in restaurants, or whether governments should supply financial assistance to families. This was nasty. This was spewing hate right off the screen and into my lap while I read.
I can accept that some people simply don't wish to have children. As a matter of fact, if you truly don't want, or even LIKE children, I'd politely ask that you refrain from procreation, for the sake of your potential child(ren) and everyone in society who will, in future, have to deal with their psychological issues because Mommy and/or Daddy didn't "want me."
However, if you don't wish to have children, I would think that it would be in your best interest to support those who do. I'm not referring to you handing over half of your salary each week to supply my kids with McDonalds' toys and Pokemon cards; I simply mean, be good to those who do have children.
Have patience with children in places that you might not normally see them, because those children are learning - sometimes slowly - how to behave in adult situations.
Don't be rude about babies and children on airplanes: they're travelling, and learning about the world around them so that someday they will have an understanding of people and places far away.
Don't throw a fit over government assistance to families. Yes, we chose to have children, but it's an expensive proposition, and we already give up more than you think for the priviledge of raising children. Unexpected things happen to everyone, and not everyone can always be prepared for any eventuality.
Don't complain over education taxes: you went through the education system once, and the children who are going through it today are the ones who will be the politicians making decisions, the lawyers working in the justice system, and the doctors who save your life someday. The children you complain about today could turn out to be the nurse who looks after you in the retirement home, when you have no children or grandchildren to come and visit you. The children you complain about today will someday be taxpaying, contributing members of the society who look after you, when you're not able to look after yourself.
So is a little compassion for those children really too much to ask?
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Trading Places
Like a lot of people in this economic climate, my husband is out of work right now. Since a family of six can't exactly survive on EI alone, I have gone back to work. It's the first time since about July of 2006, one month or so before A was born, that I have "worked".
So now, my husband is a stay-at-home dad. It's only a temporary situation, we know, but it's been quite the transition. Even having both of us at home 24/7 was rather stressful, because the kids and I had our routines down, and having an extra person around who usually was allowed to make decisions all on his own just plain threw me for a loop. It went from Mommy making all of the decisions for most of the day to having that tightrope to walk where Mommy has to check with Daddy to be sure that Child B hasn't already asked, not liked the response and gone to the other parent, and vice-versa. One parent starts to question the other: "Why are you giving him a bottle now? He isn't going to be yet!" or "How long until naptime? HOW long???" or "Are you really going to let her go out with her shoes on the wrong feet?" Let's face facts: during the day, there can only be one Queen Bee (or King of the Hill, as may be the case.)
However, as much of a transition as that was, having me in the outside world while Dad is at home has been even more of a shock to the finely-tuned machine that is our family (ha!) Things that were second-nature to me are not so much to Dad. As involved as he's always been at child-rearing, and as much time as he's spent alone with the kids, 24/7 is different. It doesn't help that everyone seems to have an opinion, or a joke, about a stay-at-home dad, and while it's all in good fun, it can be hurtful after a while. Even though the SAHD isn't the "norm", shouldn't we be encouraging dads who DO take a hands-on approach to parenting? It ain't an easy job, and anyone who takes it on should be applauded, in my books.
The other thing about our trade, is that we're both getting a chance to see things from the other's perspective. I know how helpless you feel when hearing the frustration of the day getting to the one at home, and you can't do anything to help. I know how you're torn between being tired at the end of the day, and just wanting to get in every possible second that you can with your kids before they're off to bed. Last night as I was putting C to bed, she said to me, "Why did you say 'See you tomorrow'? Because you have to go to work tomorrow." It nearly broke my heart as I explained that I would see her tomorrow, just tomorrow night. It never seems like enough time.
There are so many debates over who has it harder: the parent at work, or the parent at home. Even just among moms it becomes a fight for your own honour sometimes, to say that you have the harder job. Truth is, parenting is a messy, dirty job, and no one has it easy (unless maybe you're "parenting" a Betsy Wetsy doll or something) but it never hurts to get a little perspective on just how good you have it, because no matter what, we ARE the lucky ones, too.
So now, my husband is a stay-at-home dad. It's only a temporary situation, we know, but it's been quite the transition. Even having both of us at home 24/7 was rather stressful, because the kids and I had our routines down, and having an extra person around who usually was allowed to make decisions all on his own just plain threw me for a loop. It went from Mommy making all of the decisions for most of the day to having that tightrope to walk where Mommy has to check with Daddy to be sure that Child B hasn't already asked, not liked the response and gone to the other parent, and vice-versa. One parent starts to question the other: "Why are you giving him a bottle now? He isn't going to be yet!" or "How long until naptime? HOW long???" or "Are you really going to let her go out with her shoes on the wrong feet?" Let's face facts: during the day, there can only be one Queen Bee (or King of the Hill, as may be the case.)
However, as much of a transition as that was, having me in the outside world while Dad is at home has been even more of a shock to the finely-tuned machine that is our family (ha!) Things that were second-nature to me are not so much to Dad. As involved as he's always been at child-rearing, and as much time as he's spent alone with the kids, 24/7 is different. It doesn't help that everyone seems to have an opinion, or a joke, about a stay-at-home dad, and while it's all in good fun, it can be hurtful after a while. Even though the SAHD isn't the "norm", shouldn't we be encouraging dads who DO take a hands-on approach to parenting? It ain't an easy job, and anyone who takes it on should be applauded, in my books.
The other thing about our trade, is that we're both getting a chance to see things from the other's perspective. I know how helpless you feel when hearing the frustration of the day getting to the one at home, and you can't do anything to help. I know how you're torn between being tired at the end of the day, and just wanting to get in every possible second that you can with your kids before they're off to bed. Last night as I was putting C to bed, she said to me, "Why did you say 'See you tomorrow'? Because you have to go to work tomorrow." It nearly broke my heart as I explained that I would see her tomorrow, just tomorrow night. It never seems like enough time.
There are so many debates over who has it harder: the parent at work, or the parent at home. Even just among moms it becomes a fight for your own honour sometimes, to say that you have the harder job. Truth is, parenting is a messy, dirty job, and no one has it easy (unless maybe you're "parenting" a Betsy Wetsy doll or something) but it never hurts to get a little perspective on just how good you have it, because no matter what, we ARE the lucky ones, too.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Graduation Day
Yesterday was my three-year-old's nursery school "graduation." I'm not big on all of these graduation ceremonies: nursery school, kindergarten, middle school or Grade Eight (depending on your area), high school, then college and/or university... it gets to be a bit much. I mean, I can understand a high school graduation - that's a major point in your life. University or college? it's a major accomplishment that not everyone achieves, so go ahead - congratulate yourself!
But kindergarten? Nursery school? It all seems a bit silly, doesn't it? We've become obsessed with every little milestone, I think. Even as babies, it's not just about walking and talking; it's when did they roll front to back, and back to front? When do they first smile, laugh... when do they eat their first Cheetos?
It's not that I'm against being proud of your child's achievements, I just wonder when the standard for what an achievement is, changed. Most normal, healthy babies are going to roll over. It may be a delight for a parent to see it for the first time, but it's not "invite all of the relatives for a big party" time, is it? Do we really need to remember the exact date and time that it happened? Or should we just enjoy the memory of what it was like to watch? I feel the same way about giant first birthday parties (or giant kid birthday parties in general): is it really necessary? I've found that most of the time these parties are actually torturous for the little ones who are supposed to be feted.
And finishing kindergarten: is it really worth making parents take time off from work to see their kid in a cardboard hat with a sheet draped over them as a gown? For most kids, they're still going to be at the same school the next year. The only thing different will be the "Grade" in front of what level they're at. This may not be the case at all schools, but I also believe that many schools don't pay for these ceremonies. Because parents expect them, though, the kindergarten teachers end up having to come up with the money for them.
I probably sound like a giant Scrooge right now, but let me just interject with: I was a big sobby mess yesterday at my son's "graduation." It is an acknowledgement that yes, he is getting bigger, and soon he'll be in "real" school. I loved watching him up at the microphone with a little girl from his class, singing in the microphone in front of everyone. My baby boy is growing up, and a big part of me just wants him to stay little, and be my cuddlebug forever.
So maybe a little celebration here and there never hurt anyone.
But kindergarten? Nursery school? It all seems a bit silly, doesn't it? We've become obsessed with every little milestone, I think. Even as babies, it's not just about walking and talking; it's when did they roll front to back, and back to front? When do they first smile, laugh... when do they eat their first Cheetos?
It's not that I'm against being proud of your child's achievements, I just wonder when the standard for what an achievement is, changed. Most normal, healthy babies are going to roll over. It may be a delight for a parent to see it for the first time, but it's not "invite all of the relatives for a big party" time, is it? Do we really need to remember the exact date and time that it happened? Or should we just enjoy the memory of what it was like to watch? I feel the same way about giant first birthday parties (or giant kid birthday parties in general): is it really necessary? I've found that most of the time these parties are actually torturous for the little ones who are supposed to be feted.
And finishing kindergarten: is it really worth making parents take time off from work to see their kid in a cardboard hat with a sheet draped over them as a gown? For most kids, they're still going to be at the same school the next year. The only thing different will be the "Grade" in front of what level they're at. This may not be the case at all schools, but I also believe that many schools don't pay for these ceremonies. Because parents expect them, though, the kindergarten teachers end up having to come up with the money for them.
I probably sound like a giant Scrooge right now, but let me just interject with: I was a big sobby mess yesterday at my son's "graduation." It is an acknowledgement that yes, he is getting bigger, and soon he'll be in "real" school. I loved watching him up at the microphone with a little girl from his class, singing in the microphone in front of everyone. My baby boy is growing up, and a big part of me just wants him to stay little, and be my cuddlebug forever.
So maybe a little celebration here and there never hurt anyone.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Portrait of a 364-Day-Old Human
With 3 older siblings, Joshua alternates between being completely doted upon and almost ignored, but with his big grin and contagious laugh, it usually ends up being much more of the former.
Today I spent about a half an hour just sitting on the kitchen floor beside him while he pulled kitchen implements out of a drawer, handed them to me, took them away again and threw them back in the drawer, grinning the whole time.
It's hard to believe that this is the last day I'll spend with one of my kids when their age is measured in months, instead of years. I look forward to seeing him grow, and meeting the person he becomes, but it's still hard to think that my days as the parent of an infant are done.
Happy birthday Baby Boy. You'll always be my baby, even when you're a 6'2" football player. Don't forget that.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Expectations vs. Reality
Any woman who has been through a pregnancy can remember the feeling of rubbing your belly and picturing what your little baby will be like: wondering whether his hair colour will be like Dad's, or her eyes green like Mom's. We picture our little angels being cooed at in grocery stores while we proudly accept the compliments. We picture a future scientist, or lawyer, or Pulitzer Prize winning author.
We don't picture blow-out diapers, or colic, or tantrums, or D's on report cards. We don't picture having a "biter" or the playground bully. Or the kid getting tormented by the playground bully, for that matter. No one pictures having a child who's physically or mentally challenged. No one pictures their son growing up to be Paul Barnardo.
The truth is, though, that every one of those children was once safely nestled in Mom's belly, having their future all dream-mapped out. Sometimes our children just don't live up to our expectations. Sometimes they just can't.
We all have our strengths, just like we all have our weaknesses. As much as it pains me, I will never be an Olympic figure skater. I can pretty much guarantee that I will never dance the lead in Swan Lake. Anything involving physical coordination is not my strong suit. That being said, I was always a pretty good student, I was usually pretty well-behaved as a kid, and from a young age I liked to write. I think my mom was okay with that. I don't know what she would've done, actually, if I had been an athlete. I couldn't see her sitting through soccer games all the time, quite frankly.
I have to remind myself sometimes that my kids just cannot always be perfect. They all sometimes do things that amaze us, but occasionally I feel like I'm beating my head against a wall while I'm trying to figure out why they just can't grasp something.
It upsets me when I see parents who have such strong expectations that Johnny or Julie will be just like them, and have all the same strengths and interests. Just because I love theatre, and my ideal weekend away involves the Stratford Festival and a nice hotel doesn't mean that my physical, tactile, energetic three-year-old will feel the same way. I hope that at least one of my kids shows a real interest so that I can share my love with them, but if they don't, I have to accept that. I'll learn to love what they love, because I love them. Even if it's hockey...
Not every kid is going to be Einstein, either. There will always be kids who just plain struggle academically. They might excel at auto shop or be an amazing electrical apprentice, but sitting at a desk will never be their strong suit. There will always be those whose future involves "Would you like fries with that?" It's just a fact of life. Not everyone has the capability of being a Wall Street stock broker or a brain surgeon.
The other thing is that we have to accept that sometimes our kids are going to screw up. Hopefully not at the serial killer level, but at some point Johnny will bite someone and Julie will snatch a toy away and hit the previous possessor over the head with it. When kids are toddlers, they all go through these stages. What drives me nuts is the parents who won't acknowledge this. If you're out at the local play gym and your kid hauls off and smacks someone else, or yanks the Little Tykes police car away from a barely walking toddler, knocking them over, don't pretend it didn't happen, or refuse to admit that your little darling could possibly have done such a thing. Any experienced parent knows that these things happen, and won't be a complete jerk about it. Just because their child is the victim this time, five minutes from now they'll likely be the perpetrator, and we all need to realize this and talk to (or discipline) the harasser when necessary, and comforting the harassed when the time comes. Trust me: those bite marks from Tommy might look horrible on Petunia's arm, but the horror that Tommy's mommy feels is much worse. Let's all give each other a break, will we?
We don't picture blow-out diapers, or colic, or tantrums, or D's on report cards. We don't picture having a "biter" or the playground bully. Or the kid getting tormented by the playground bully, for that matter. No one pictures having a child who's physically or mentally challenged. No one pictures their son growing up to be Paul Barnardo.
The truth is, though, that every one of those children was once safely nestled in Mom's belly, having their future all dream-mapped out. Sometimes our children just don't live up to our expectations. Sometimes they just can't.
We all have our strengths, just like we all have our weaknesses. As much as it pains me, I will never be an Olympic figure skater. I can pretty much guarantee that I will never dance the lead in Swan Lake. Anything involving physical coordination is not my strong suit. That being said, I was always a pretty good student, I was usually pretty well-behaved as a kid, and from a young age I liked to write. I think my mom was okay with that. I don't know what she would've done, actually, if I had been an athlete. I couldn't see her sitting through soccer games all the time, quite frankly.
I have to remind myself sometimes that my kids just cannot always be perfect. They all sometimes do things that amaze us, but occasionally I feel like I'm beating my head against a wall while I'm trying to figure out why they just can't grasp something.
It upsets me when I see parents who have such strong expectations that Johnny or Julie will be just like them, and have all the same strengths and interests. Just because I love theatre, and my ideal weekend away involves the Stratford Festival and a nice hotel doesn't mean that my physical, tactile, energetic three-year-old will feel the same way. I hope that at least one of my kids shows a real interest so that I can share my love with them, but if they don't, I have to accept that. I'll learn to love what they love, because I love them. Even if it's hockey...
Not every kid is going to be Einstein, either. There will always be kids who just plain struggle academically. They might excel at auto shop or be an amazing electrical apprentice, but sitting at a desk will never be their strong suit. There will always be those whose future involves "Would you like fries with that?" It's just a fact of life. Not everyone has the capability of being a Wall Street stock broker or a brain surgeon.
The other thing is that we have to accept that sometimes our kids are going to screw up. Hopefully not at the serial killer level, but at some point Johnny will bite someone and Julie will snatch a toy away and hit the previous possessor over the head with it. When kids are toddlers, they all go through these stages. What drives me nuts is the parents who won't acknowledge this. If you're out at the local play gym and your kid hauls off and smacks someone else, or yanks the Little Tykes police car away from a barely walking toddler, knocking them over, don't pretend it didn't happen, or refuse to admit that your little darling could possibly have done such a thing. Any experienced parent knows that these things happen, and won't be a complete jerk about it. Just because their child is the victim this time, five minutes from now they'll likely be the perpetrator, and we all need to realize this and talk to (or discipline) the harasser when necessary, and comforting the harassed when the time comes. Trust me: those bite marks from Tommy might look horrible on Petunia's arm, but the horror that Tommy's mommy feels is much worse. Let's all give each other a break, will we?
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
School Dispute at Monsignor Paul Dwyer Catholic High School Takes a Life
Yesterday a student at a high school here in my city was stabbed to death. It's made news all across the province, at the very least. Possibly nationally. As a general rule, it's major news when a young person is murdered in Canada, and it very rarely happens at school. I think there's only ever been one school shooting resulting in a death in Canadian history. (Don't quote me on that, though.)
I drive past this school on a fairly regular basis since it's on my way to my son's preschool. It's not in a bad area of town, in fact, it's about a block away from "The Glens" where a lot of doctors and professionals live. The school doesn't have a bad reputation, and I know several good kids who go there, or did in the past.
As I drove past, I first noticed the number of police vehicles in the parking lot. I assume this was a) for investigation of the incident and b) for security purposes. I saw two girls hugging and crying in the parking lot. The next thing I noticed was a Rogers television van. Then across the street, CityTV, CTV and CBC. On the southwest corner across from the school, there was an abnormal amount of strange men standing around on the corner. Reporters and cameramen is my best assumption, waiting for the perfect kid to interview.
I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with the media when it comes to stories like this. On one hand, I recognize that this IS a news story. They are doing their job, and it's not like I'm above reading or watching the stories, so how can I judge? On the other hand, I see friends and family grieving - a mother who has lost her only child, who probably doesn't want to see it splashed all over the papers day after day, like grinding glass into an open wound. I can only imagine what that mother (and father) are going through, and it tears me up just to imagine it. To lose one of my children at any age would be as if a knife had gone into my own heart, but to lose them as a teenager, in a stupid school dispute? I don't know how you go on after that.
I don't believe in the death penalty: taking a life to prove that taking a life is wrong is redundant and barbaric to me. I just don't know how I would feel if it were my own child. Parents lose children every day, though: to illness, accidents, suicide, and sometimes they never know how. Sometimes they just disappear. It's hard sometimes not to be gripped with fear thinking about the possibilities. Yet I've always been the one preaching about not living in fear. I let my daughter walk home from school by herself. I let my my kids climb up the slide at the playground. You can't keep your kids in a bubble.
I wish I knew the answer to all of my random thoughts and questions this morning.
You can read more about the story here.
I drive past this school on a fairly regular basis since it's on my way to my son's preschool. It's not in a bad area of town, in fact, it's about a block away from "The Glens" where a lot of doctors and professionals live. The school doesn't have a bad reputation, and I know several good kids who go there, or did in the past.
As I drove past, I first noticed the number of police vehicles in the parking lot. I assume this was a) for investigation of the incident and b) for security purposes. I saw two girls hugging and crying in the parking lot. The next thing I noticed was a Rogers television van. Then across the street, CityTV, CTV and CBC. On the southwest corner across from the school, there was an abnormal amount of strange men standing around on the corner. Reporters and cameramen is my best assumption, waiting for the perfect kid to interview.
I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with the media when it comes to stories like this. On one hand, I recognize that this IS a news story. They are doing their job, and it's not like I'm above reading or watching the stories, so how can I judge? On the other hand, I see friends and family grieving - a mother who has lost her only child, who probably doesn't want to see it splashed all over the papers day after day, like grinding glass into an open wound. I can only imagine what that mother (and father) are going through, and it tears me up just to imagine it. To lose one of my children at any age would be as if a knife had gone into my own heart, but to lose them as a teenager, in a stupid school dispute? I don't know how you go on after that.
I don't believe in the death penalty: taking a life to prove that taking a life is wrong is redundant and barbaric to me. I just don't know how I would feel if it were my own child. Parents lose children every day, though: to illness, accidents, suicide, and sometimes they never know how. Sometimes they just disappear. It's hard sometimes not to be gripped with fear thinking about the possibilities. Yet I've always been the one preaching about not living in fear. I let my daughter walk home from school by herself. I let my my kids climb up the slide at the playground. You can't keep your kids in a bubble.
I wish I knew the answer to all of my random thoughts and questions this morning.
You can read more about the story here.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
It was too early to be awake...
As I stared at the back of a bottle of kids' shampoo this morning, I saw this line:
Tested by Opthamologists.
All I could picture was a lineup of old guys in lab coats having shampoo squirted into their eyes and yelling "Ow! I neeeeed a waaaaasshhhcloth!!!"
Advertising companies, feel free to contact me at eighthcyn at climbinguptheslide dot com
Tested by Opthamologists.
All I could picture was a lineup of old guys in lab coats having shampoo squirted into their eyes and yelling "Ow! I neeeeed a waaaaasshhhcloth!!!"
Advertising companies, feel free to contact me at eighthcyn at climbinguptheslide dot com
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Hats Off to the Single Parents Out There!
My husband had a business trip this week. In all fairness, it's been a LONG time since he had to go to one of these conferences, but still, I'm not fond of them. It's part of his job, so I realize I have to expect it on occasion, though. I have to admit, this one was badly timed, though (not his fault, but...)
First of all, he had to leave on Family Day, the new Ontario statutory holiday that was instituted the year we were living in the US. I always forget about it until a few weeks before it happens, and then it's like a happy surprise: we get a long weekend! Of course, I'm at home, so a long weekend for me just means an extra day with no one at school, but it also USUALLY means an extra set of hands for one more day. Plus, since we've been back in Ontario we really have tried to use Family Day as a FAMILY day. No Family Day for us this year.
Then, last Thursday, my younger daughter came down with a stomach bug. Uh oh. I've discussed "the family pandemic" before. I was just waiting for the dominoes to fall. Sure enough, Saturday night the baby started vomiting, and Charlotte was still suffering from diarrhea. By this time I'm now picturing my husband vomiting his way across North America at 10,000 feet, and me here, spending the week with four sick kids and me throwing up all over the place, too.
So far, that hasn't happened. It seems to have only affected those two members of the family, although the baby is still fighting it off (which made for a really fun morning when he woke up with a blow-out diaper all over the inside of his sleeper.) Still, it's been a long week. Even though Daddy often doesn't get home until bath/bed time, it's still an extra set of hands at the most chaotic time of the day. It's also just that few hours in the evening with another adult. There are a lot of times where I can go the entire day and never actually interact with another adult for more than a few seconds at the grocery store/gymnastics class/library until he comes home.
My mom was a single mom. Although there was only me, I never underestimate how hard that must have been. You just don't get a break. Even though as a SAHM it's easy to think that you never get time to yourself, it's only until you're completely by yourself and outnumbered that you realize just how much of a 24/7 job it really is.
Daddy comes home tonight. I'm just praying that all five of us survive until then! Only about thirteen more hours... not that I'm counting or anything.
First of all, he had to leave on Family Day, the new Ontario statutory holiday that was instituted the year we were living in the US. I always forget about it until a few weeks before it happens, and then it's like a happy surprise: we get a long weekend! Of course, I'm at home, so a long weekend for me just means an extra day with no one at school, but it also USUALLY means an extra set of hands for one more day. Plus, since we've been back in Ontario we really have tried to use Family Day as a FAMILY day. No Family Day for us this year.
Then, last Thursday, my younger daughter came down with a stomach bug. Uh oh. I've discussed "the family pandemic" before. I was just waiting for the dominoes to fall. Sure enough, Saturday night the baby started vomiting, and Charlotte was still suffering from diarrhea. By this time I'm now picturing my husband vomiting his way across North America at 10,000 feet, and me here, spending the week with four sick kids and me throwing up all over the place, too.
So far, that hasn't happened. It seems to have only affected those two members of the family, although the baby is still fighting it off (which made for a really fun morning when he woke up with a blow-out diaper all over the inside of his sleeper.) Still, it's been a long week. Even though Daddy often doesn't get home until bath/bed time, it's still an extra set of hands at the most chaotic time of the day. It's also just that few hours in the evening with another adult. There are a lot of times where I can go the entire day and never actually interact with another adult for more than a few seconds at the grocery store/gymnastics class/library until he comes home.
My mom was a single mom. Although there was only me, I never underestimate how hard that must have been. You just don't get a break. Even though as a SAHM it's easy to think that you never get time to yourself, it's only until you're completely by yourself and outnumbered that you realize just how much of a 24/7 job it really is.
Daddy comes home tonight. I'm just praying that all five of us survive until then! Only about thirteen more hours... not that I'm counting or anything.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Thinking a Lot Tonight...
My husband started watching a special tonight on Nostradamus and Isaac Newton. I wasn't really paying attention - those "end of the world" theories aren't my thing - but my daughter asked my husband about us being related to Sir Isaac. It's a family legend, can't really be entirely true since he apparently had no children, but it started me thinking about my father's side of the family. Depending on the day I either sort of choose not to think about it, or I'm fascinated by this group of people who I really know nothing about, when it comes right down to it.
My parents separated when I was very young. My father moved to the United States when I was so young that I don't even know exactly how old I was. Younger than five, certainly. My memories are of being picked up after school by a man I barely knew, taken to visit his mother and step (adoptive) father for the evening, then taken back home to my mom. I'd get a phone call on Christmas Day, one on my birthday, and then the next year it would happen all over again.
It's not that uncommon a scenario today. I can only remember two other of the kids I went to school with in elementary school having divorced parents. My father was also a child of divorce, though, and if it was uncommon when I was young, it was almost unheard of when he was. Still, I remember hating when my teachers would say it was time to do a Father's Day art project. I'd do it anyway, knowing that it would go in the trash when I was done. Once a teacher suggested that I make something for my mom instead. I was so embarrassed. Truth is, though, that most of the time I didn't notice that my life was any different than everyone else's. I didn't know life with two parents. Even now the idea of my parents together seems ludicrous.
But I think that makes that side of my family seem all the more mysterious. My father's mother passed away last year. I read her eulogy, which she had ironically written herself for a course she was doing, and reading her recollections of her life I was hit again by the realization of how little I knew about her, really, and how I wish we'd had a better relationship that had enabled her to tell me them herself, so that I could have asked questions. No one did, really, ask her those questions, I don't think. So, I imagine what it must have been like. I imagine what must have caused her to make the decisions that she did, good and bad. I wonder what made her the person that she was, and, in the end, how she made my father the man that he is.
I'm very glad that my children have the father that they do. Every once in a while, watching them play together, or cuddle, I mourn that relationship that never was, but most of the time it just makes me happy to see the people that I love most in the world loving each other. Sir Isaac Newton, for all of his genius and fame, had nothing on that.
Monday, January 25, 2010
There's Nothing Better than Kissing a Soft Baby Head
Joshua just fell asleep in my arms while he was drinking his bottle. As I kissed his soft little head it reminded me how quickly this all passes. In a few short months he won't be having bottles anymore. I'll have to chase him just to pick him up, much less get him to sit still long enough for cuddles. He won't fall asleep in my arms like that. He's my last baby. I need to be drinking in everything. Sometimes I forget that.
Emma will be nine years old in less than two weeks. It seems like a million years ago that she was that small, and yet I don't know how so much time can possibly have passed. Next week I have to go and fill in the registration papers for Andrew to go to Junior Kindergarten in the fall. This weekend we watched videos of Charlotte as a baby. I feel awful, but I barely remember those days already.
I never understood what grownups meant about time passing more quickly, the older you get. I'm so excited to see what they will be like as teenagers, as adults, as parents, but at the same time I just want the earth's rotation to slow things down just a little bit. I don't want to lose my babies!
I just have to remember: I'm a very lucky woman.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Hi Jason, My Name is Jennipher
Sigh.
So I took Andrew, Charlotte and Joshua to our local community centre this morning. Charlotte had a preschool ballet class, and the boys and I went and hung out in the library. Our community centre ROCKS.
Anyway, not the point.
As we were leaving this morning, I saw one of the leaders from another class stop a mom to ask if she'd left something behind. That was what got my attention, initially. Instinctively I looked at her daughter. Very cute kid. Nametag on. "Quynn."
WHY?
I mean, I know that everyone has different tastes in names, and there will be those who think that our taste is boring (we usually get "classic", but I'm sure for some that's a code word). You want to name your kid "Pilot Inspektor", well, that's your prerogative, but seriously, WHY?
Do people actually picture this little baby as an adult when they're naming them? It seems to be something we all find funny, to humiliate babies: we put them in little sailor suits, or little snowsuits that make them look like Winnie the Pooh. And why not? It's cute, and it's not like they can object.
A name is something different. That cute little baby in the cat ears hat will eventually grow up to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a teacher, or a sanitation engineer, and they may not exactly suit "Tinkerbell" or "Qwerty" at that point.
But what about the strange spellings? The names are still the same, so what's the big deal, right? What I want to know, though, is WHY? All you're accomplishing is making yourself look like you can't spell and sentencing your child to a lifetime of "No, you spell it A-N-D-R-U."
I know, there are people who will disagree with me strongly. They feel that their child should stand out from the pack. They don't want their daughter to be one of "the three Emmas" (which is the case in my daughter, Emma's, class). I can understand that. I hadn't intended to name Emma the most popular girl's name around. It's not my fault that "Rachel" named her daughter Emma right after my daughter was born. At the same time, I never have to worry about her not being able to find things with her name on it. "McKynzye" might not be so lucky.
Naming your kids is one of the biggest privileges of being a parent. All I'm saying is take a moment and picture your child in the nursing home 80 or 90 years from now, and ask if "Jewelia" will still appreciate their unique name!
So I took Andrew, Charlotte and Joshua to our local community centre this morning. Charlotte had a preschool ballet class, and the boys and I went and hung out in the library. Our community centre ROCKS.
Anyway, not the point.
As we were leaving this morning, I saw one of the leaders from another class stop a mom to ask if she'd left something behind. That was what got my attention, initially. Instinctively I looked at her daughter. Very cute kid. Nametag on. "Quynn."
WHY?
I mean, I know that everyone has different tastes in names, and there will be those who think that our taste is boring (we usually get "classic", but I'm sure for some that's a code word). You want to name your kid "Pilot Inspektor", well, that's your prerogative, but seriously, WHY?
Do people actually picture this little baby as an adult when they're naming them? It seems to be something we all find funny, to humiliate babies: we put them in little sailor suits, or little snowsuits that make them look like Winnie the Pooh. And why not? It's cute, and it's not like they can object.
A name is something different. That cute little baby in the cat ears hat will eventually grow up to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a teacher, or a sanitation engineer, and they may not exactly suit "Tinkerbell" or "Qwerty" at that point.
But what about the strange spellings? The names are still the same, so what's the big deal, right? What I want to know, though, is WHY? All you're accomplishing is making yourself look like you can't spell and sentencing your child to a lifetime of "No, you spell it A-N-D-R-U."
I know, there are people who will disagree with me strongly. They feel that their child should stand out from the pack. They don't want their daughter to be one of "the three Emmas" (which is the case in my daughter, Emma's, class). I can understand that. I hadn't intended to name Emma the most popular girl's name around. It's not my fault that "Rachel" named her daughter Emma right after my daughter was born. At the same time, I never have to worry about her not being able to find things with her name on it. "McKynzye" might not be so lucky.
Naming your kids is one of the biggest privileges of being a parent. All I'm saying is take a moment and picture your child in the nursing home 80 or 90 years from now, and ask if "Jewelia" will still appreciate their unique name!
Monday, January 4, 2010
Phew!
Your feelings about Christmas truly change when you become a parent. You no longer really care about what you're going to get and get more excited thinking about what your kid(s) will look like when he/she/they open their presents. You finally get to play Santa. You get to stealthily plan out Christmas presents, hide them, figure out how to put tags on them so that the kids won't recognize your handwriting (this occurs later in childhood though, of course.) You get to force your kids into those scary Santa pictures! 
But it's not all fun and games. You have to figure out how you're going to PAY for all of those presents, and the more kids you have, the more you have to decide: do you scale back and get fewer presents for each, or do you have to keep scrimping and saving even more to do the same as you did with only one child. I remember how full our living room was one Christmas when we only had the two girls. That was the year that we decided that it was time to scale back. Not just because of finances, but because it was honestly scary to see our kids getting so much STUFF. We had a pretty large living room at the time, and honestly half of it was filled with gifts from Santa, from us, from grandparents, aunts and uncles... it was kind of terrifying. So in recent years we've scaled back, and I really don't think that the kids have even noticed.
There are other parts of Christmas that change with kids, too. The Christmas parties. An office Christmas party either means having to find a sitter, or if it's a family affair you have to drag young kids out way past their bedtime to hang out with a bunch of strangers for the night, hoping and praying that they won't embarrass Mom or Dad in front of their coworkers. Friends without kids who have Christmas parties often want them to be adult-only, so you find yourself turning down invitations. You can only afford a babysitter so often if you're going to afford all of those presents! You feel terribly anti-social, but at least you know that friends with kids understand.
And here's the part that we all forget as adults, before parenthood: kids go WRANGY at Christmas. Oh yes, we all THINK we remember it, but we remember it from our own perspective as kids. As the parent, it is a completely different scenario.
I haven't posted here in almost a month. It wasn't for not wanting to, it was because I was either trying to keep myself from killing them, or keeping them occupied, ferrying them here and there, or just trying to calm meltdowns.
There is something in the air at Christmastime for kids. It seemed to start earlier this year than ever before. Maybe because of the addition of an extra child, who knows? But nonetheless, it was NOT enjoyable. A simple, "No, you cannot have licorice for dinner instead of green beans" could result in a full-fledged screaming on the floor meltdown. Night terrors and nightmares abounded. The whining, especially from our four-year-old, made me want to stick forks into my ears.
And then, just when I couldn't take anymore: Christmas vacation. The positive was that I could, most days, take the kids downstairs when they woke up, give them breakfast, and then go back to bed for an hour until the baby woke up. They even started sleeping in on a regular basis! I didn't have to play taxi driver nearly as much without having to take the girls to one school at one time, then Andrew to another school at another time, with pickups all over the place. There were no dance lessons, or practices. In short, it was a whole lot of home time.
The negative: it was a WHOLE LOT of home time. I'm essentially an only child, so I never really dealt with the sibling stuff. It can be wonderful, but when they're fighting, it's hideous. "She hit me!" "No I didn't!" "He took my toy!" "She won't get off the computer!" "When is it going to be MY turn?"
So today, I am officially celebrating. Despite the fact that I'm back to getting up at my usual time, despite the fact that it was -16 degrees Celcius when I took the girls to school this morning, I am celebrating that today I had only the boys here. Andrew had no one to fight with. Josh had a nap. I got to do my WiiFit somewhat uninterrupted. There were not four different lunch orders to make me feel like a short-order cook.
Heavenly!
But it's not all fun and games. You have to figure out how you're going to PAY for all of those presents, and the more kids you have, the more you have to decide: do you scale back and get fewer presents for each, or do you have to keep scrimping and saving even more to do the same as you did with only one child. I remember how full our living room was one Christmas when we only had the two girls. That was the year that we decided that it was time to scale back. Not just because of finances, but because it was honestly scary to see our kids getting so much STUFF. We had a pretty large living room at the time, and honestly half of it was filled with gifts from Santa, from us, from grandparents, aunts and uncles... it was kind of terrifying. So in recent years we've scaled back, and I really don't think that the kids have even noticed.
There are other parts of Christmas that change with kids, too. The Christmas parties. An office Christmas party either means having to find a sitter, or if it's a family affair you have to drag young kids out way past their bedtime to hang out with a bunch of strangers for the night, hoping and praying that they won't embarrass Mom or Dad in front of their coworkers. Friends without kids who have Christmas parties often want them to be adult-only, so you find yourself turning down invitations. You can only afford a babysitter so often if you're going to afford all of those presents! You feel terribly anti-social, but at least you know that friends with kids understand.
And here's the part that we all forget as adults, before parenthood: kids go WRANGY at Christmas. Oh yes, we all THINK we remember it, but we remember it from our own perspective as kids. As the parent, it is a completely different scenario.
I haven't posted here in almost a month. It wasn't for not wanting to, it was because I was either trying to keep myself from killing them, or keeping them occupied, ferrying them here and there, or just trying to calm meltdowns.
There is something in the air at Christmastime for kids. It seemed to start earlier this year than ever before. Maybe because of the addition of an extra child, who knows? But nonetheless, it was NOT enjoyable. A simple, "No, you cannot have licorice for dinner instead of green beans" could result in a full-fledged screaming on the floor meltdown. Night terrors and nightmares abounded. The whining, especially from our four-year-old, made me want to stick forks into my ears.
And then, just when I couldn't take anymore: Christmas vacation. The positive was that I could, most days, take the kids downstairs when they woke up, give them breakfast, and then go back to bed for an hour until the baby woke up. They even started sleeping in on a regular basis! I didn't have to play taxi driver nearly as much without having to take the girls to one school at one time, then Andrew to another school at another time, with pickups all over the place. There were no dance lessons, or practices. In short, it was a whole lot of home time.
The negative: it was a WHOLE LOT of home time. I'm essentially an only child, so I never really dealt with the sibling stuff. It can be wonderful, but when they're fighting, it's hideous. "She hit me!" "No I didn't!" "He took my toy!" "She won't get off the computer!" "When is it going to be MY turn?"
So today, I am officially celebrating. Despite the fact that I'm back to getting up at my usual time, despite the fact that it was -16 degrees Celcius when I took the girls to school this morning, I am celebrating that today I had only the boys here. Andrew had no one to fight with. Josh had a nap. I got to do my WiiFit somewhat uninterrupted. There were not four different lunch orders to make me feel like a short-order cook.
Heavenly!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Grouchy mom goes grocery shopping
Baby J is now over 19lbs (possibly over 20lbs by now, as that was a few weeks ago). Pretty heavy for a not-quite six-month-old who doesn't sit up, crawl or obviously stand on his own.
This morning after our weekly jaunt to Storytime at the library, we dropped in to our local grocery store (we'll call it Joe). I don't like dragging the infant seat around with 19lbs of baby in it, so as much as possible I leave it in the van. Since Joe has those carts with the infant seats attached, I decided to get Baby J and put him in one. He seems to like the view from up there, anyway.
Unfortunately, this particular store likes to leave those carts outside, and it's been raining quite a bit the past few days, so there was a nice little puddle in the bottom of the seat. There were a couple of employees outside unloading pumpkins, so I asked if they had a rag or something that could clean up the puddle.
"You can go into Customer Service and they can give you a roll of paper towels" one of them replied.
Now, perhaps this doesn't seem like that big of a deal. However, I'm already carrying 19lbs of squirmy baby and trying to wrangle two active preschoolers to keep them from taking off on me. Plus, with squirmy baby in my arms I'm supposed to take the roll of paper towels back outside and manage to pull of paper towels, while NOT dropping baby on the ground and wipe this out? Out in the parking lot, while making sure that my far-too curious 3-year-old doesn't take off to go look at pumpkins, or swing sets or who knows what else?
It just really irritated me, so I did something I don't usually do. I went to Customer Service, as directed, and proceeded to tell the Customer Service person what had happened. Of course they apologized all over themselves, and I think a manager was there to overhear. They asked who it was, but thankfully the woman didn't say anything to them in front of me (I would have been mortified) as she took the paper towels outside herself to clean off the seat for us.
I get that people who don't have kids don't always understand, but honestly, you can't just go inside and get something yourself to help out a mom with a baby in her arms? The pumpkins are THAT important that if they are not put out RIGHT THIS SECOND the entire store will collapse?
I wanted to suggest that perhaps if they were going to leave those carts outside it should be someone's job to go out each morning and check that they were clean and ready to go, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm kind of a wuss like that. Joe, however, does have some kind of contest going right now where if you submit feedback to your shopping experience online you could win $2000 worth of groceries. Now THAT would be a win-win situation (for me, of course!) so I just might do that.
Back to my quiet, meek mommy ways now. (My husband is snorting if he read that...)
This morning after our weekly jaunt to Storytime at the library, we dropped in to our local grocery store (we'll call it Joe). I don't like dragging the infant seat around with 19lbs of baby in it, so as much as possible I leave it in the van. Since Joe has those carts with the infant seats attached, I decided to get Baby J and put him in one. He seems to like the view from up there, anyway.
Unfortunately, this particular store likes to leave those carts outside, and it's been raining quite a bit the past few days, so there was a nice little puddle in the bottom of the seat. There were a couple of employees outside unloading pumpkins, so I asked if they had a rag or something that could clean up the puddle.
"You can go into Customer Service and they can give you a roll of paper towels" one of them replied.
Now, perhaps this doesn't seem like that big of a deal. However, I'm already carrying 19lbs of squirmy baby and trying to wrangle two active preschoolers to keep them from taking off on me. Plus, with squirmy baby in my arms I'm supposed to take the roll of paper towels back outside and manage to pull of paper towels, while NOT dropping baby on the ground and wipe this out? Out in the parking lot, while making sure that my far-too curious 3-year-old doesn't take off to go look at pumpkins, or swing sets or who knows what else?
It just really irritated me, so I did something I don't usually do. I went to Customer Service, as directed, and proceeded to tell the Customer Service person what had happened. Of course they apologized all over themselves, and I think a manager was there to overhear. They asked who it was, but thankfully the woman didn't say anything to them in front of me (I would have been mortified) as she took the paper towels outside herself to clean off the seat for us.
I get that people who don't have kids don't always understand, but honestly, you can't just go inside and get something yourself to help out a mom with a baby in her arms? The pumpkins are THAT important that if they are not put out RIGHT THIS SECOND the entire store will collapse?
I wanted to suggest that perhaps if they were going to leave those carts outside it should be someone's job to go out each morning and check that they were clean and ready to go, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm kind of a wuss like that. Joe, however, does have some kind of contest going right now where if you submit feedback to your shopping experience online you could win $2000 worth of groceries. Now THAT would be a win-win situation (for me, of course!) so I just might do that.
Back to my quiet, meek mommy ways now. (My husband is snorting if he read that...)
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Everyone else is talking about them...
I am a child of divorce. Not exactly uncommon in my age group. My family really does have it down to a bit of a science, though. My paternal grandparents divorced in the late 1940s, a time when it was very uncommon. My grandfather wanted to go back overseas after the war, to work with the League of Nations (later the UN). My grandmother did not want to take their very young son to war-torn Europe. My father grew up not knowing anything about his father. He was actually 26 years old before he ever saw him again. As my mother puts it, he didn't know if his father was dead, or in jail, or anything. I believe that he knew his name, and that was it. My grandmother was so hurt by the divorce that she refused to talk about him. In fact it was only in the last few years of her life before dementia took over that I ever heard her speak his name.
My parents were married for nine years before I was born. 10 months later my father decided that he wanted a divorce. It's kind of hard not to take that personally, I have to admit. However, after four kids of my own, I also tell all new parents the same thing: the first year after a baby will likely be the hardest one(s) in your marriage. If you survive that, you will likely be fine. Obviously no one gave them that advice. My father has since married three other times, all ending in divorce.
The one thing that I have to say about my mom (other than how much I love her for raising me completely on her own, since my father moved to the US shortly after they split up, and has been there ever since) is that she never badmouthed my father. In fact, she seemed very hurt if anyone said anything bad about him, including me.
Which, of course, leads me to the Gosselins. A completely overdone topic, but hey, I'm weighing in anyway because I think they're just exhibiting a bigger issue. I have never watched an entire episode of their show. I remember seeing them on Oprah once a few years back. I believe I watched about ½ an episode a year or so ago. That kind of reality show honestly just isn't my thing. I'm more of a “Biggest Loser” or “American Idol” kind of girl.
They are kind of hard to avoid these days, though. I honestly can't get over the amount of attention that these people are getting just because they're splitting up. They certainly never were on the cover of tabloids when they were (playing?) the happy not-so-little family.
Couples get divorced. It happens. It's no longer shocking to see a single mom or dad with their kids. What appalls me about this situation is that these parents (moreso Dad, from what I've seen, but both are guilty) seem to be more interested in bashing each other publicly than in their children's welfare.
Some might say that they've never shown much interest in their children's welfare right from the start, what with putting their kids in a situation reminiscent of the Dionne Quintuplets, but I could see a family who was struggling to provide for their eight kids wanting to make some “easy” money. All they had to do was live their lives, right? So assuming that these two actually had their children's best interests at heart to begin with, why wouldn't they continue to do that?
One of the most important things to remember when a couple with kids split up is that your children share DNA with the person that you can quite possibly no longer stand to be around. If you're badmouthing him/her, you're badmouthing half of who they are. Do they not think that their kids know what's going on? That Mom is accusing Dad of stealing the very food out of their mouths? That Dad is running around with a 22-year-old bimbo and saying that Mom emotionally abused him?
Even if by some miracle they are actually able to shelter the kids from this right now, and are keeping their opinions to themselves in private, do they not realize that these stories won't just disappear when all of this dies down? Ten years from now, a simple internet search will bring it all back to the surface again, and they will know, and they will hurt.
Not all marriages can last forever. Not all of them should. But when you choose to involve children in your relationship it becomes about something bigger than you. You have a responsibility to those kids to protect them from as much of the hurt as you can. How is slamming one of the two people that they love most in the world going to do that?
All I can say is grow up Gosselins, before it's too late. I'm kind of afraid that it already is, though.
On a side note, I don't particularly like Nancy Grace for reasons to numerous to count, but I have to say, this clip would have made me laugh, if it weren't so damned sad.
My parents were married for nine years before I was born. 10 months later my father decided that he wanted a divorce. It's kind of hard not to take that personally, I have to admit. However, after four kids of my own, I also tell all new parents the same thing: the first year after a baby will likely be the hardest one(s) in your marriage. If you survive that, you will likely be fine. Obviously no one gave them that advice. My father has since married three other times, all ending in divorce.
The one thing that I have to say about my mom (other than how much I love her for raising me completely on her own, since my father moved to the US shortly after they split up, and has been there ever since) is that she never badmouthed my father. In fact, she seemed very hurt if anyone said anything bad about him, including me.
Which, of course, leads me to the Gosselins. A completely overdone topic, but hey, I'm weighing in anyway because I think they're just exhibiting a bigger issue. I have never watched an entire episode of their show. I remember seeing them on Oprah once a few years back. I believe I watched about ½ an episode a year or so ago. That kind of reality show honestly just isn't my thing. I'm more of a “Biggest Loser” or “American Idol” kind of girl.
They are kind of hard to avoid these days, though. I honestly can't get over the amount of attention that these people are getting just because they're splitting up. They certainly never were on the cover of tabloids when they were (playing?) the happy not-so-little family.
Couples get divorced. It happens. It's no longer shocking to see a single mom or dad with their kids. What appalls me about this situation is that these parents (moreso Dad, from what I've seen, but both are guilty) seem to be more interested in bashing each other publicly than in their children's welfare.
Some might say that they've never shown much interest in their children's welfare right from the start, what with putting their kids in a situation reminiscent of the Dionne Quintuplets, but I could see a family who was struggling to provide for their eight kids wanting to make some “easy” money. All they had to do was live their lives, right? So assuming that these two actually had their children's best interests at heart to begin with, why wouldn't they continue to do that?
One of the most important things to remember when a couple with kids split up is that your children share DNA with the person that you can quite possibly no longer stand to be around. If you're badmouthing him/her, you're badmouthing half of who they are. Do they not think that their kids know what's going on? That Mom is accusing Dad of stealing the very food out of their mouths? That Dad is running around with a 22-year-old bimbo and saying that Mom emotionally abused him?
Even if by some miracle they are actually able to shelter the kids from this right now, and are keeping their opinions to themselves in private, do they not realize that these stories won't just disappear when all of this dies down? Ten years from now, a simple internet search will bring it all back to the surface again, and they will know, and they will hurt.
Not all marriages can last forever. Not all of them should. But when you choose to involve children in your relationship it becomes about something bigger than you. You have a responsibility to those kids to protect them from as much of the hurt as you can. How is slamming one of the two people that they love most in the world going to do that?
All I can say is grow up Gosselins, before it's too late. I'm kind of afraid that it already is, though.
On a side note, I don't particularly like Nancy Grace for reasons to numerous to count, but I have to say, this clip would have made me laugh, if it weren't so damned sad.
Monday, March 30, 2009
15 more days
I have to apologize for the lack of material here. I have 15 days left of my LAST pregnancy, and pregnesia has completely taken over my brain. The fact that I (usually) remember to feed my currently outside of the womb kids, throw in the occasional load of laundry and run the dishwasher before we end up eating off paper plates is a miracle, as far as I'm concerned.
I went through a "nesting" energy spurt late last week, but I'm not betting on it happening again. At least my hospital bag is now (mostly) packed, and the car seat and bassinette are ready. After having done this three times previously, I'm pretty sure those are the main ones. Anything else we'll figure out as we go along. I have bottles, though they haven't been sterilized in hopes of not needing them for a while (ha!), and a teeny sample can of formula. I have one package of newborn diapers, since I'm always afraid of ending up with a giant baby who won't fit them anyway. I'll make hubby run to the store for more before we go home, depending on what size we need. If it turns out we need formula, I'll make sure he picks that up as well.
Other than that, what does a baby really need? Although us moms like to have matching everything, picture-perfect nurseries, stroller sets worthy of being built by Ferrari and gorgeous little layette sets (that they'll never wear in the end because they might get ruined by spit up), the baby doesn't really NEED all of that stuff. Damn it's fun looking, though :)
So, anyway, I don't know if I'll post again before I get home from the hospital, unless I have a sudden flash of inspiration. I'm also hoping afterwards to start getting other writers onboard, but that takes energy, which is something I'm sorely lacking right now.
Wish me luck, and I'll be back!
I went through a "nesting" energy spurt late last week, but I'm not betting on it happening again. At least my hospital bag is now (mostly) packed, and the car seat and bassinette are ready. After having done this three times previously, I'm pretty sure those are the main ones. Anything else we'll figure out as we go along. I have bottles, though they haven't been sterilized in hopes of not needing them for a while (ha!), and a teeny sample can of formula. I have one package of newborn diapers, since I'm always afraid of ending up with a giant baby who won't fit them anyway. I'll make hubby run to the store for more before we go home, depending on what size we need. If it turns out we need formula, I'll make sure he picks that up as well.
Other than that, what does a baby really need? Although us moms like to have matching everything, picture-perfect nurseries, stroller sets worthy of being built by Ferrari and gorgeous little layette sets (that they'll never wear in the end because they might get ruined by spit up), the baby doesn't really NEED all of that stuff. Damn it's fun looking, though :)
So, anyway, I don't know if I'll post again before I get home from the hospital, unless I have a sudden flash of inspiration. I'm also hoping afterwards to start getting other writers onboard, but that takes energy, which is something I'm sorely lacking right now.
Wish me luck, and I'll be back!
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Avoiding the household pandemic
In my humble opinion, having a sick kid is one of the hardest parts of being a parent, at least in terms of the day-to-day problems. It's not just that it's hard to watch someone you love feeling miserable, it's the logistics, too. If both parents work, who stays home with the ailing individual? Or are they lucky enough to have family nearby who are willing to risk being infected themselves?
Then there's the whole handwashing thing: not just yours, but theirs, too. Usually to the point where your skin will crack and bleed profusely if you wash them one more time. And the sanitizing... ugh! I can barely keep up with normal, everyday cleaning, much less disinfecting everything my child could have come into contact with or potentially breathed on.
When you have more than one child, though, the difficulties of a sick kid can become reason for panic. How do you keep the first sick kid from becoming the second, third or fourth sick kid? Suddenly cracked and bleeding hands are a small price to pay for avoiding an epidemic. The dreaded cleaning becomes the only line of defense against the dreaded "germies."
And, if by some miracle, you only have one sick child amongst your bunch, the logistical nightmares can multiply exponentially. This was my situation a couple of days ago, and the reason behind today's rant.
I was out with my two youngest yesterday (Andrew needed a "cool dude haircut") when my cell phone rang. I don't have call display (I know, dark ages, right? I am also severely deficient when it comes to texting skills) so I answered with a pleasant, if somewhat confused (no one EVER calls my cell phone) "Hello?"
"Where are you?" my loving husband's voice demanded. I informed him that I was at the grocery store, in a somewhat put off tone, given his lack of pleasantries.
"I've got Emma on my cell phone," he informed me. "She says she's sick." And so it began. I paid for the groceries, loaded them and the two youngest into the van, all while trying to get them to hurry by telling them that Emma was sick (which only resulted in hearing about 15 choruses of "Emma sick?" from Andrew) and drove over to the school to pick up my sick kid.
I put her on the couch for the afternoon while her brother and sister slept (and me, too, truth be told - I am, after all, VERY pregnant and VERY tired) and all was well. She didn't look very good, but no actual puking occurred, so that was positive. By bedtime, though, she still didn't look as if she was going to be up for school the next morning. Problem was, Charlotte had nursery school the next morning.
When we lived in town, this wouldn't have been a big deal. I would've just loaded everyone into the van, taken Charlotte to nursery school, then brought Andrew and Emma back home until pick-up time, when I would've loaded everyone up again to pick up Charlotte, and then we'd be done for the day.
But we don't live five minutes from the nursery school anymore. It's a 30-40 minute drive each way for a 2 1/2 hr class. I drop her off at school, then find some way to keep Andrew and I occupied until pick-up time. Usually on Thursday mornings I take Andrew to "Little Feet Fitness and Fun", a preschool "gym." Obviously this wasn't going to work with a sick 8 year old. I really didn't know what I was going to do with her. Even if we didn't go to Little Feet (and Andrew woudl NOT have been happy at missing his favourite outing of the week) where could I possibly hang out for 2 hours with a sick kid?
I lucked out in that my father-in-law (who lives all of 400ft away) was okay with me dropping her off there for the morning, but I didn't actually find this out until about 30 minutes before we had to leave in the morning. I was still stressing about what on earth I was going to do right up until that moment.
Emma's mostly better now, although she still looks pretty rough. She went to school yesterday, but I don't think she's 100% yet. Time will tell if we've managed to avoid an epidemic, though.
A mom can only hope.
Then there's the whole handwashing thing: not just yours, but theirs, too. Usually to the point where your skin will crack and bleed profusely if you wash them one more time. And the sanitizing... ugh! I can barely keep up with normal, everyday cleaning, much less disinfecting everything my child could have come into contact with or potentially breathed on.
When you have more than one child, though, the difficulties of a sick kid can become reason for panic. How do you keep the first sick kid from becoming the second, third or fourth sick kid? Suddenly cracked and bleeding hands are a small price to pay for avoiding an epidemic. The dreaded cleaning becomes the only line of defense against the dreaded "germies."
And, if by some miracle, you only have one sick child amongst your bunch, the logistical nightmares can multiply exponentially. This was my situation a couple of days ago, and the reason behind today's rant.
I was out with my two youngest yesterday (Andrew needed a "cool dude haircut") when my cell phone rang. I don't have call display (I know, dark ages, right? I am also severely deficient when it comes to texting skills) so I answered with a pleasant, if somewhat confused (no one EVER calls my cell phone) "Hello?"
"Where are you?" my loving husband's voice demanded. I informed him that I was at the grocery store, in a somewhat put off tone, given his lack of pleasantries.
"I've got Emma on my cell phone," he informed me. "She says she's sick." And so it began. I paid for the groceries, loaded them and the two youngest into the van, all while trying to get them to hurry by telling them that Emma was sick (which only resulted in hearing about 15 choruses of "Emma sick?" from Andrew) and drove over to the school to pick up my sick kid.
I put her on the couch for the afternoon while her brother and sister slept (and me, too, truth be told - I am, after all, VERY pregnant and VERY tired) and all was well. She didn't look very good, but no actual puking occurred, so that was positive. By bedtime, though, she still didn't look as if she was going to be up for school the next morning. Problem was, Charlotte had nursery school the next morning.
When we lived in town, this wouldn't have been a big deal. I would've just loaded everyone into the van, taken Charlotte to nursery school, then brought Andrew and Emma back home until pick-up time, when I would've loaded everyone up again to pick up Charlotte, and then we'd be done for the day.
But we don't live five minutes from the nursery school anymore. It's a 30-40 minute drive each way for a 2 1/2 hr class. I drop her off at school, then find some way to keep Andrew and I occupied until pick-up time. Usually on Thursday mornings I take Andrew to "Little Feet Fitness and Fun", a preschool "gym." Obviously this wasn't going to work with a sick 8 year old. I really didn't know what I was going to do with her. Even if we didn't go to Little Feet (and Andrew woudl NOT have been happy at missing his favourite outing of the week) where could I possibly hang out for 2 hours with a sick kid?
I lucked out in that my father-in-law (who lives all of 400ft away) was okay with me dropping her off there for the morning, but I didn't actually find this out until about 30 minutes before we had to leave in the morning. I was still stressing about what on earth I was going to do right up until that moment.
Emma's mostly better now, although she still looks pretty rough. She went to school yesterday, but I don't think she's 100% yet. Time will tell if we've managed to avoid an epidemic, though.
A mom can only hope.
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