And my womb does a somersault!

So, NO! I'm not "in that way" myself, but enough people I love are, that I am having a great amount of fun with tiny little things!

I found the most amazing pattern for new-born booties. (The girl ones are my favourite and I may have to adapt the pattern for adult feet)

All this fun, tiny work is making my baby factory go crazy. Not my "Mom! Where's my 100th lost Polly Pocket?!" factory, though. So for now, I'll just live through them.

Little boy boots. (Due next month but it's COLD already!)

Matching set for a girl due in Feb. Cozy!

And the reason my womb doubled over!

PS: These are gifts that have yet to be given, so SHHHHHH! (And if you have already guessed who you are, act surprised.)

"That" girl

We all have one. THAT girl. The one we can't help but hate because deep down inside, there is something (or everything) about her that we wish we were, had, or didn't have. The one we've never met (or maybe you have, she could be your best friend) but we HATE anyway. We're sure they are a b*tch. They have to be. They are too pretty, confident, wealthy, or relaxed to be nice. We covet their body, partner, wardrobe, career, you name it. The fact that they have what we want makes them evil, right? RIGHT??!!

I'm pretty sure I have a few. Zoe Deschanel being one of them. I'm pretty sure I'm her; only fatter, poorer, and with less talent. This is confirmed by my husband who comments on the striking similarities every time we see her on TV. Thanks.

How do we beat these women? Baseball bats work well, I'm told. Ok. Probably not wise.

We've all heard the old saying, "If you can't beat them, join them."

This works in this case and isn't as hard as you think. You can become the woman we all hate. I know this doesn't sound appealing at first but think about it for a minute and I bet you have all wished to be hated.

Here is a few of the things I have discovered in the last 2 years. Anyone who knows me will see these things in me. They work, right? (Wait, don't answer that. I don't want to know.)

1. Smile more. 

Cliche, I know. Just try it. Another old saying goes, "When you smile, the world smiles with you." In the case of women, that is entirely untrue. No matter what situation you find yourself in, if you flash a bright, confident smile at another woman, it will catch her off guard and then stir that ever-present feeling of "I want what she has."

2. Sing in public.

I don't mean pull out your karaoke machine and belt out Shania, cause please, don't. But the next time you find yourself overwhelmed or underprepared for your situation, a song works wonders.

Most of you are thinking, "Ok. I want looks of hatred, not pity." But picture this: You are grocery shopping and need two more items when the kids start screaming about someone touching someone, somewhere.

SING.

"The kids in the cart are melting down, melting down, melting down. The kids in the cart are melting down. Lets hurry up!" (FYI: These words have actually been sung by my lips as I use the cart as a scooter to get where I need to be as quickly as possible) If sung at a volume just louder than the screaming, you will become the hero to every woman over 40 and the target of jealous glances from every woman who believes they don't have the confidence to do that. Whether or not it works on the kids, you appear together and relaxed. Mother of the year.

It works when kids are not around too, but you DO look slightly insane.

3. Dress for your OWN joy.

This is VERY IMPORTANT. (And my favourite new truth!) When shopping, buy ANYTHING (within reason, we all have a budget) that brings you joy. How often do we put on an item of clothing and we just HAVE to twirl in front of the mirror cause we love what we see, only to put it back because we don't think it's "me", or others may laugh cause we don't usually buy such.

WHAT???!!!

You just twirled. It's you. What could be more "you" than something that makes you feel like a 5 year old in a tutu? Buy the stupid coral polka dot cardigan and wear it with EVERYTHING! I know I do.

4. Chin up.

This one I learned from my 4-year-old's dance class.

 "What happens if a princess looks at the floor?" "Her crown FALLS OFF!" It's amazing what truths you can glean from little people. All the wealth, beauty, and joyful clothing in the world will "fall off" when you look at the floor. Wanna keep your crown? LOOK UP! Always up. Make eye contact with life. Every time your crown falls off, it dents a little, and takes work to bring the shine back up to snuff. Nothing says, "I am awesome, you want to be me" like a head held high.

5. Your not alone...

That woman you are eyeing who does all the above and makes you want to chuck your purse at her head..... is looking at the next woman and imagining her own handbag sailing across the room. Women I have always admired (such a positive word!) have admitted that they too have women in their life they try not to hate. I guarantee you. There is someone out there looking at you the way I look at Zoe.

When I first realized this, I felt completely hopeless. If the women I look at with green eyes of envy are looking at someone else, what can be done? But after more thought, I came to this conclusion. We are this way, because we are made to be God's beauty.

What??!

We are the culmination of God's creation. We ARE beauty. It's not something we can acheive. We can't lose the weight, buy the makeup, or wear the clothes that will MAKE us beautiful. We just are. Our human nature doesn't know what to do with this. We are all so different. How can we all BE beauty? So we compare.

Sorry. Hate to disappoint, but every woman has beauty. So, while you look at your own "Zoe" and try to figure out how to be her, there is someone else trying to emulate you.

This goes both ways. We all have people in our lives that we look down on. We don't understand why they can't get their acne under control, or why they don't lose a few pounds, or buy real pants. Next time you see them, really look at them. They are so very beautiful! EVERY woman has beauty.

EVERY WOMAN.

In your quest to be hated, I hope you also discover a tremendous new love for what it means to be a woman. We're all in this together!

What "Happily Ever After" looks like in the middle.

I was struck today by the drastic nature of the communication shift within my marriage since having children. What struck me, specifically?

"Not to worry, Honey. It was just one of those turtle-ing moments when it's starting to come out but you hold it in and run screaming. Not a major mess."

If you don't know what I am referring to, you've never had children.

WHAT HAPPENED??!!

I promise you, no words even REMOTELY resembling the above would ever had been uttered in conversation with my beloved 9 years ago.

9 years has flown by...

Some examples:

Sunday afternoon:

BEFORE
"I loved the part of the sermon about loving your neighbour. Maybe the whole baseball bat vs. mailbox thing was a bad idea."

AFTER
"I think I may have forgotten a dirty diaper on the pulpit. I hope the cleaning lady will find it."

9:00 PM Friday night

BEFORE
"Wanna go to Boston Pizza?"

AFTER
"So, wanna.......ummmmm.....(insert own slang here)......or just go to bed?"

6:00 PM Wednesday

BEFORE
"How was your day? I had the most amazing sandwich for lunch today at Subway!"

AFTER
"What do you mean, 'Won't be home by bedtime?'" (or insert above quote)



I will say it again: WHAT HAPPENED??!!

The picture has changed somewhat. 

This is unacceptable. I can't remember the last conversation I had with my husband that did not include the words: diaper, barf, poop, tantrum, or boogers. Romantic.

Somewhere between "I do!" and "Welcome baby!" we've become excrement obsessed, home-bound, old people.

Not ok.

"Date Night" now consists of dropping the kids off at the Grandparents and quickly zipping 15 minutes away to Steinbach to have supper and zipping back for bedtime. Since this usually means a choice of 2 restaurants......we don't get out much.

On the upside, we saw a sign in Steinbach the other day:

Coming Soon: Boston Pizza. Opening 2012.

My husband couldn't contain his excitement, "YAY! We can date again!!!"

This, my friends is where we are. Come to Boston Pizza on opening night and you can bet we will be standing in line for the doors to open. If talk of bodily fluids makes you uncomfortable, find another table, it's all we have to talk about. But don't worry, we won't be there long. Bedtime is at 8.

Doting mom or negligent monster?

Why is there never any middle ground?!

This week, my little girl started preschool. Leading up to this day, I shared in her excitement. We shopped for her first "indoor" shoes, bought the most AWEFUL glittery princess backpack, and talked about how fun it would be to start her new adventure. I thought this was normal.....

4 going on 15. This relationship is only getting started!

Apparently, once again, I am nowhere near normal.

Ready to go. Even the dog is excited!

Leave it to our good friend, social media, to make me question myself as a parent. (This happens more often than I would like to admit.)

As the big day approached, my friends' statuses began to look like tear-stained laments of time lost.

"They CAN'T grow up!"

"Have I taught them enough?"

"Dropped them off, went home and cried, life as I know it is OVER!"

As if the beautiful sentiments weren't enough when directed at general cyberspace, I was questioned personally about my thoughts. (Silly girl, complaining about considerate friends! I know, just keep reading.)

"Did Mommy cry?"

No. Mommy did not.

"How are you dealing?"

Last time I checked, I was NOT a dealer.

"Let me know how dropping her off goes." (This one sounds innocent but the intention was, "Let me know if you break down like a blubbering idiot.)

Have to have a pic next to the flowers.

Why the rant about my wonderful, considerate, caring friends?

They have revealed something in me I didn't realize was wrong.

I have absolutely NONE of these feelings. I don't know how to react to these questions. If I would answer completely honestly I would say:

"I feel awesome! She is so excited. She NEEDS the outing. I only wish my two little boys were old enough to go too. Is there a preschool that is EVERYDAY? Can I just send her down the driveway and a bus will come pick her up? Could we change it to all day? Is there a boarding preschool?

Ok, not that last one. But you get the picture. Some might say that I am just denying my feelings or I will have them yet, but with the barrage of sentiment, I TRIED. I really tried. I WANTED to relate to the mothers that wonder if they have done enough, prepared enough, taught enough to send their child out into the world. I just don't.

Is that bad?

Even my little boys exhibited major stress at the "loss" of their bossy playmate. They didn't know what to do with themselves. Instead of getting lots done, like I foolishly hoped, I spent the morning dealing with their overwhelming emotions.

So, major vulnerable moment going on here. Am I a negligent monster? Am I not attached enough to my children? Have I missed something?

All I know is that I LOVE MY KIDS. Fiercely, fully, and painfully. I ache for their future, knowing their struggles. I hope for their choices, knowing the temptations out there. But I guess I don't ache for myself, my own loss. Weird? Maybe. But I think I'll be ok...... I'm already dreading my sons' weddings, so I'm not completely heartless....

BTW: I love all my friends. Please don't stop asking me stuff......it makes me think. ;)

Logic spawns so much Drama!

Coming up with logical consequences for disobedience is sometimes nearly impossible. Not everything has a consequence that makes sense immediately, but is an important thing to learn. Today's infraction?

Going in Mommy's room without her knowledge. This is a rule in our house because toddlers can't really be trusted to refrain from jumping on the bed or depositing all your chapstick-sized items into your glass of water.

My 4-year-old is bad for "forgetting" this rule. Today she found a way to get in and deposit some teddy bear evidence before quietly removing herself and re-closing the door. When she couldn't find her teddy bear, Mommy came to the rescue only to incriminate the little victim. Oops. What to do?

I had to take a moment to think, and this always scares the kids far more than the consequence.

AHA!! I've got it. We have been talking about trust with the kids lately. Mostly in regards to telling the truth, but I seized the opportunity to broaden the definition. 

"Sweetheart, because I can no longer trust you to play upstairs alone without going in my room, you may not play upstairs without an adult for one week." She instantly realized that this meant that all her Barbies, teddy bears, and wooden paper dolls were inaccessible. 

"Mom, can you go get my Barbies?"

"Nope. They are upstairs and therefore part of the consequence for your disobedience. I'm really sorry."

This was followed by an extreme emotional reaction involving the words, "NEVER!..." "Devastated!..." and "Hopeless!.." Wow. She IS a dramatic one.

Though logical consequences are WAY more difficult to come up with, and sometimes non-existent, they always seem to be the most hard to swallow for my little ones. Maybe that's why I believe they are so effective. I LOVE logical consequences. Even when I have to butt heads with the most illogical of responses!

Perspective.

I watched a video today about a severely autistic girl who was unable to speak. For the first 11 years of her life she was labelled as developmentally delayed as well as autistic. (the actual diagnoses was "mentally retarded" but I will use the current term here) When she was eleven, they sat her in front of a computer for the first time and since then she has gone on to write a blog and started a novel. She answers questions not only coherently but more intelligently than most "average" kids. WOW.

Why is this relevant?

Enter Oli. My beautiful, energetic, highly intelligent son.

Though he is not even close to having the same symptoms as this lovely girl, my husband and I have tossed the "autism" ball around for some time. He has moderate social anxieties, including separation fears. These symptoms worsen when change to routine or environment occur. We struggle to bring him anywhere or have people over to visit without feeling severe embarrassment over his angry, and sometimes violent behaviour. I found myself constantly apologizing for him and "explaining" Oli to the people around him.

Enter a very special auntie and who I look to as a wonderful parenting figure. She found herself doing the same thing with her son. Always "explaining" how his brain works or why he was behaving a certain way. Right in front of her son. She encouraged me not to do this. Don't display for them that they are "defective" by explaining away what you perceive as faults. Hadn't thought of it that way.

I thought about what it would be like if my parents had always done this for me......

"My apologies. We've tried to get her to stop chewing on everything but she just seems to need the calories." (This is COMPLETELY untrue!)

"Sorry about her. She refuses to wear jeans so inappropriate leggings in a myriad of colours is all I can get on her body." (This one may be true...)

"Aw man! Sorry, we've tried to get her to talk slower, but her brain must work faster than most..." (Can't deny this one.)

Ok. So who am I kidding, they are all true.... (But I don't remember my parents ever saying things like this.)

Moral of the story?

I'm done apologizing for who my son is. That doesn't mean I am done teaching. In a private, safe place, I will still instruct and try to lead him in finding his way to more appropriate responses and behaviours. But the public displays of shame and dismay (which sounds harsh but let's face it, that's what it is!) are over!!

So if you see me do this, please remind me....I DO run on a "mom-brain" afterall...

A Good Man was Easy to find.

Yesterday I tried to figure out how my husband manages to balance all the amazing things he does for me. He would like to be in constant physical contact...but still wants to know about me as a person. His every action is designed to make my life easier. He wishes he were home while he's at work, and I think he actually ENJOYS taking 3 toddlers and his town-raised wife along on farm errands. The only solution I can come up with is that he actually loves us THAT much. He just does. He firmly believes me to be the most beautiful woman on our fair planet, (God bless his ignorance!) and he desires for my happiness above all else. He is always trying to better himself as a parent and takes the time to explain things he is doing to the kids. I am hopelessly attached to this man.

Haven't changed at all in 9 years! ;)

This is my joy today. And my sorrow. Tomorrow we will bury a vibrant wife and daughter. My thoughts these last few days have been wrapped up in trying to imagine how life will continue for her husband. It scares me. Almost enough to make me want to withdraw. Try to keep from losing myself in him. Here's the rub. I like enjoying the blissful happiness I live in right now. And, after all the energy I've spent imagining my life without him, I forgot the reverse. I hope if I go first, he will know how much I loved him. I vow to spend whatever time I have left telling, and showing him and others how much I love him.

I win!

I did it! Take that, you stinky nightstand! You done been reconditioned! After sanding, puttying, bleaching (twice!), priming every single inch of that blasted thing, and two coats of paint, I have won. No longer smelly, and exceedingly gorgeous, this piece now rests in my bedroom. Stay tuned for the rest of the bedroom makeover. Some teasers? Eggplant, wainscotting, vintage green damask, and pillows.

Reminder of where we started.

Oh how far we've come.

DIY FYI

My creative juices have brought me to home decor as of late. I have a door in my porch waiting to become a head board, a pile of ancient curtains in the basement waiting to become dramatic new ones, and a night stand in the shed waiting to become a brighter-coloured nightstand.

All of the above was acquired for a grand total of $13, thanks to generous friends, building centre sales, and our neighbourhood thrift store. Now, usually you can trust your friends will not give you anything ridiculously disgusting, (Depending on your friends, I guess!) and the building centre should be trusted to sell only quality controlled items......but the thrift store? I've never had a problem. UNTIL NOW!!!

I purchased the most beautiful of night stands the other day for a whopping $8. What a find! What exactly did I find?

I'm pretty sure this night stand served as the birth place, home, and final resting place for an entire family of rodents as well as the fire-hydrant-esque powder room for an entire pack of dogs.

The smell was not immediately apparent in the store. It IS a thrift store, after all. I DID find an unusually large amount of small rodent excrement in it for being indoors, but I figured that was a quick clean up. Without much further examination, I paid the man and proceeded to carry out my newest treasure. Upon moving the piece away from the neighbouring ones, I noticed the dried on, orangish drips in years of layers down the hidden side. Oh well! Another easy wipe down.

I proudly unloaded my invaluable treasure and placed it on the grass to wipe it down. This went well, aside from the overwhelming men's-bathroom-at-a-truckstop smell as I wiped the canine bathroom side.

Luckily, there was no project space available in the house, so I placed the piece in the porch to await sanding and painting. When my husband left for work the following morning he was assaulted (and I mean completely slapped in the face) by the smell of death, urine, and general old furniture that had taken up residence in our porch. He was ready to throw it out, right then and there. But I am me. NO WAY! I am going to win this battle.

Well. The thing has been sanded, puttied, bleached twice, and the smell remains. It is fainter and mixed with the smell of bleach and Febreeze. (not the best idea.) And still, I am not ready to give up! I will use an odour and stain blocking primer and I WILL beat this thing.

What did I learn?

If it is $8 in a room full of $40, there is a reason. Find it.

Honesty

My friend said something yesterday that is rattling around in my brain and won't leave me alone. I finally figured out why.

She said, "I'm exercising to be healthier, the weight loss is just an added bonus."

I couldn't figure out why this would stick so prominently in my brain, until now.

I can't honestly say this.

I lost 25 pounds last year and got myself down to a size.....well lets just say a much smaller size! I exercised my butt off (literally) and worked hard. I'm sure I am much healthier today than I was before I started. So.....what's the problem?

My quote would read:

"I'm exercising to lose weight and look amazing in jeans, the health benefits are really of no consequence."

Am I too young to care about health and therefore allowed to have this shallow viewpoint?

Not really. I'm almost 30, have 3 kids, one crazy loving husband, and plenty to live for. So.....great! Now I just feel guilty for wanting to confidently wear a swimsuit......!

Here's my opinion. Does it matter? I am motivated by the compliments and looks I have received, both good and bad. Is this wrong? NOPE. I am extrinsically motivated. (There's that big word again!) It's ok. I know that I need some reason outside of myself in order to accomplish something. I found it in the beautiful joy of buying a new wardrobe and not hating it. I'm ok with that.

Thanks, Mom!

So, it's official, I'm becoming my mother.

But I hope in all the right ways.

On Good Friday, I decided my little girl needed a one of a kind Easter dress for Sunday morning. No problem, you say. There are lots of unique shops around. 2 days to shop. Should be fun.

Sorry, that's not how we roll. I designed, created a pattern for, and sewed her new dress before Sunday morning. THAT'S how we roll.

Thanks, Mom. (With a ring of truth but dripping with sarcasm.) This idea that I can, and should, do anything I want is met with frustration from my husband as well as myself when projects go way longer than expected (cabinets) or end up not being as "cost-effective" as I thought.

I learned early on that I could do anything. Whenever. Not because she ever really said this. She just did it. We rearranged our bedroom furniture almost monthly with no comment from her. (Except maybe, "As long as you do it yourself.") We repainted, recovered, and built whatever we wanted. I do believe I was even allowed to skip school to go fabric shopping on occasion. One day, my sister and I decided to switch bedrooms and we just did it. I don't think we even felt the need to ask. We knew that if we could accomplish it on our own....she wouldn't mind. As long as she knew where to deliver the clean laundry.

I never thought much of this until I got married. My mom has helped me to realize that she doesn't actually know how to do everything. She just does it. With common sense, some creativity, you can figure anything out. This mentality DID get me royally electrocuted at a young age as my small arms were needed to help put a belt back on the dryer!

Re-carpet my own stairs?      Why not?
Lay my own flooring?      Awesome!
Refinish my own cabinets?     Easy.
Tile my backsplash?      Still waiting to find the right tile.
Design and create a dress from scratch in 6 hours of work?      Done and done.

I'm trying to treat my children the same way. With a quiet expectation that if you want to do something, you will. Not "You can do it if you try!" or "I'm sure you will figure it out." (Not that these are bad!) Just a calm assurance that my children will accomplish what they set out to do......because they are my mother's grandchildren!

Drug abuse

Anyone who has ever had to give their children Azithromycin will understand this blog post. If you have not....don't judge.

My lovely children are blessed with penicillin allergies (including the entire "cillin" family) so they are restricted in what antibiotics they can have. The best invention ever?...

Azithromycin.

Where amoxicillin (or Penicillin) would require a 2-year-old to take a large dose of disgusting liquid 4 times a day for 11 days, Zithro requires one tiny dose every day for 4 days. A miracle, you say?

Hold on. Where amoxicillin tastes bad but palatable, Zithro induces vomiting in everyone I have had the privilege to share it with. Not the "stomach-ache" kind of vomiting but the "touch-my-lips-and-my-whole-body-reacts-to-get-it-as-far-away-as-possible" kind. Unpleasant. And immediate.

So. Here we were. I picked up the prescription and needed to get the first (and largest) dose into him as soon as possible. What to do?

The last time we were here, he puked all over my van and clothing. We don't want to repeat this incident so I pick up some cupcakes for incentive, a smoothie to get the taste out, and head for the nearest park.

This would be a good time to note that you cannot mix this medication with anything to make it easier. Mixing this with anything short of a gallon of kool-aid only serves to destroy the host mixture and make the medicine as good as garbage cause no one can stomach that much foul tasting Kool-aid.

There in the park we tried coaxing, pleading and, me being on 4 minutes of sleep in what feels like 3 weeks, a few tears. Nothing worked. He was clamped shut. Here's where the "no judging" comes in.

There on the floor of my van, with the door wide open for the inevitable quick escape; I pinned my little boy down on the floor and tenderly place 3 ml of foul liquid into his less-than-willing mouth. He swallowed and I gave him his smoothie in time to keep most of the stuff inside. Try to picture the blood curdling screams of a child nearing death through it all.

That's when I looked over and saw a lovely woman and her two children playing maybe 50 feet away in the park. Easily within earshot of the torture I had been giving out, but completely blocked by the van. As I allowed my children to play in the park while they ate their reward cupcakes and smoothies, she continually eyed me suspiciously. I smiled and had the nerve to ask if she had a kleenex to wipe my poor child's nose. She obliged but handed it to me like she was approaching a rabid animal.

I wonder what she thought I was doing?

At this point I guess all I can do is be thankful he kept the dose down, that my kids played wonderfully in the park, and the woman didn't have a cell phone.

Here's to a full recovery in 4 days!

"A wonderful pair of Gitch."

My children have a favourite book, "Something from Nothing" by Phoebe Gilman. She is also responsible for the amazing Jillian Jiggs books. It is a wonderful story of a Grandfather that continually recreates a little boys blanket as it ages into something new.

One day his mother said to him, "Joseph, look at your blanket. It's frazzled, it's torn, it's unsightly, it's torn. It's time to throw it out."
"Grandpa can fix it," Joseph said.
Joseph's grandfather took the blanket and turned it round and round.
"Hmmm," he said as his scissors went snip, snip, snip and his needle flew in and out and in and out, "There's just enough material her to make..."
... a wonderful jacket.


and so on.

Little known fact about my husband, he is amazing at taking a perfectly wonderful, and completely normal song/story/poem and turn it into a gut splitting "Weird Al"-esque example of potty humour. You know he gets 2 year old boys mentality when he can simply read a story with a few words changed and your child can not breath for an hour. Oh the hysterics at our house!

"There's just enough material here to make..."
... a wonderful pair of gitch.
Joseph put on the wonderful pair of gitch and went outside to play.
But as Joseph grew older, the wonderful pair of gitch grew older too.
One day his mother said to him, "Joseph, look at your gitch. It's shrunken and small, doesn't fit you at all. It is time to throw it out!"


Now at this point, you would think Grandpa would make something else. But no. The gitch live on. Through the whole story, somehow, Grandpa makes a new pair of gitch every time. Here some of the highlights from our new story. Honestly, only the red words have been changed.

Joseph wore the wonderful gitch to school the very next day.


"Joseph, look at your gitch! It's spotted with poop and there's pee on it too. It is time to throw it out!"


"Joseph, look at your gitch! This big stain of poop makes the back of it droop. It's time to throw it out!"


Joseph wore the wonderful gitch on his suspenders to hold his pants up.

and my personal favourite:

Joseph used the wonderful gitch to keep his pebble collection safe.


Now, before you judge, we DO have rules about the time and place that this type of humour is appropriate. And let's face it, when my children are asked, "Were you raised in a barn?!" They can answer "YES!" regardless, and I am proud of that fact. Just try and read the above lines without cracking a smile. I dare you!

I think we could all use a little more "barn" humour. Have a good giggle. Go on.....

(By the way.... this book is not at all about gitch. It is actually a beautiful book with an inspiring ending. I recommend it.)

The great flood.

With the weather getting so very beautiful, my desire for all things summer has begun! Problem?.....

It's not nice enough for ANYTHING summer, and we can't even watch TV. Can you say GOING SQUIRRELY?

I had an idea. I still think it's brilliant.

Put the kiddie pool on the new kitchen floor (It promised to be waterproof) and fill er up!

Luckily I noticed the leak after only two mop buckets of water.

We enjoyed the water as it leaked slowly out the bottom of the pool and then mopped up the remains. Hey, it filled an afternoon.

"Are you bringing more water?"

Just cute.

Resigned to the fact that Mom won't bring more water as the wet spot seeps ever larger......

....and larger.

Trying to "rescue" the floor.

and then there was one...

In what can only be described as a valiant effort, my Dear Husband decided to take my two oldest toddlers out of the house for an errand, leaving me with a one-year-old with a serious third child complex. Honestly! This kid has no idea how to be by himself!

At first, I was more stressed than ever, thinking, "How am I going to entertain this adorable little boy?" I needed to do a century's worth of dishes and had no idea how this was going to happen. But wait... Didn't I always do dishes with one. There is unfortunate photographic evidence to prove that I managed to do dishes without a dishwasher, WITH a nine-month-belly, and a one-year-old. I pulled up a chair, plunked him up there and got to work.

The poor boy had no idea what to make of this seemingly terrifying experience. You have to understand, putting a third child at an elevated height that is still low enough to be reached by his/her siblings is like putting a sign on his back that reads, "Free candy to the first one to knock him to the floor!"

After assuring him that there was no such sign, and continuing with my scrubbing, he relaxed. Almost to the point of enjoyment.

Then I realized something.

I am missing out on relaxed time with my son. We have lots of great time together. (Mainly because he is an adorable little Momma's boy-cuddler supreme) But I can count on one hand the number of times where I have enjoyed his company without my eyes darting around to locate the kamikaze warriors sneaking in for the kill. I managed to spend ten minutes doing dishes with my son without my heart rate launching to Jillian Micheals' levels.

Finally comfortable.

It is my goal to find moments like this more often.

Construction and no TV

So....The idea that I cannot get anything done without TV has now extended to the tradespeople of the world!

A vastly talented friend of ours is diligently working in our home to put the finishing touches on our flooring/paint/vanity project. Until today, I have taken the kids from the house, even driving through our lovely Manitoba winter days, to allow him the space he needs. Today, there were no such options available. (Aside from maybe driving around the countryside in search of something interesting, which in the prairies would constitute a grass fire, or maybe a pay loader pushing snow.)

So, here we are, underfoot. They idolize him. Oliver will only answer to "Mr. Hiebert". They need to SEE everything, and TALK ABOUT everything, and touch, smell, and lick........EVERYTHING! I get two of them doing something else only to find the little one pulling tools out of the tool box and "helping". This project is going to take twice as long. Oh dear! Nap time cannot come soon enough!

Oli needed a hard hat. 

So did everyone else!

Hard hats for everyone!

Which turned into hard hat races.

So much fun!

I would feel bad for the guy, but I just realized: We are paying him by the hour.

Potty time!

I decided that a month+ with no TV was probably the perfect time to potty train my almost-3-year-old. Without the distraction of TV, he should be able to focus more on what's going on "down there".

For the record, this is no ordinary boy. Today, he only answers to the name Superhero. Now I know all boys do that but his super power is that he can say "long words without stopping". He has been speaking in sentences since he was 18 months old, and apparently I have spoken about this a lot in his presence. Guess he figures he's pretty special.

He has also informed me that he likes having poop in his pants. "It's warm." How do I argue with that?

He is well aware that not wearing diapers is going to be more work. I believe his words were something like, "Well,....I think I will just wear diapers. Then I can just poop in the living room." Can't really argue with that either.

Some would say that I have already waited too long. He's too smart. It won't work well now. Problem: He couldn't physically STOP peeing when started no matter how hard he tried till recently. Nevermind trying to hold it and get to the bathroom. We have discovered a few areas in his life where his advanced communication skills have directly conflicted with his slower physical development.

Before he could get off the couch himself he would call me, not to help him down but.......
"Mom! Get me that toy!"
"What do you say?"
"Peeeaaaass."

I guess we'll see how this goes!

More later. His activity of choice was making pie. So I am off to make pie with a very naked little boy. You may not want to come for coffee for the next few days......Might be serving "naked pie".

I can't get stuff done!!?

They have completely forgotten about the TV! I can't believe it either. They have not asked to watch TV in two days. Not even a longing side glance at our blanket-clad old friend. It has been rather wonderful!

Here's the rub. 

I can't get anything done!!!

I used to place them in front of the TV when I needed to mop the floors or clean up an area real quick. It was so easy.

Now I find myself interrupted at every turn by,

"MOM! Naya's not sharing!"

"MOM! He's licking me!"

"MOM! Ephraim's stuck in the laundry hamper again!"

By letting their imaginations run free, I have successfully created problems I didn't know we had! They find their way into the strangest places. (That small gap behind the toilet bowl, below the tank) They create the strangest games. ("AHHHHHH! Restaurant fire!! Run and get in your boats!") There is a lot more yelling (happy and sad) and a lot more hands-on parenting. I know this is what I was hoping to achieve when I set out. The whole I-want-to-raise-my-kids-without-the-help-of-Caillou thing, but I am getting tired of going to bed in a house that could best be described by a Habitat for Humanity disaster bulletin.

My new goal?

Go to bed with the house in the same (or better) shape as when I woke up.

Today that shouldn't be too hard, since I had a hard time finding the stairs this morning for the laundry and barbie accoutrements. Here's hoping that everyday, I can improve a little. Maybe by the time Easter rolls around, we can have an Easter egg hunt and not lose the children in the process.

It takes teamwork.

So......When I made this no-TV-till-Easter-and-maybe-even-longer decision for my family, I thought it important to consult the other half of the child-rearing team. He was all for it. I believe the words, "It's your funeral!" may have been uttered. He is realizing, however, that it is not quite so simple.

See, his logic was as follows.....

No TV?!
That's hard!
All day?
Wait, DAY!
SHE'S home all day!
Ok, this COULD be good for the kids.
Sure, Honey!

He's starting to realize that the evenings are the hardest time and that's when he's around......

Oh! And did I mention that I am out of the house a minimum of 3 evenings a week? And he has to keep them entertained as their brains spiral quickly down the whirlpool of exhaustion. Not to mention, they seem to tire themselves out far more with no TV. (See previous blog regarding symptoms of withdrawal)

Teamwork is important. He sees the benefits of a no TV break, but actually begged me to allow him TV yesterday while I was out. So, though we are a team, sometimes one of us still needs to be the captain.

He made it through the evening, by the way.

This is REALLY hard?!

Some of my friends have informed me they are embarking on this adventure with me. YAY!! Misery loves company right???!

Some advice......
The "Don't Ask Blanket".

To stop the constant string of..."Mom, can we watch a show?" I instituted the "don't ask blanket". When this question came up at first I simply responded, "Look at the TV." The question has stopped and I catch them looking up at the TV and sighing periodically. (And I never had to answer with "NO.")

Note: a standard home-made receiving blanket will perfectly cover a 42" TV.

Also, evidently, when your young children are used to watching 8 hrs of TV a day on average......

Severe withdrawal sets in around 24 hrs in.

Symptoms include:
1. Constant wailing.
2. Random toy throwing........at siblings.
3. Lack of appetite.
4. Using phrases never before uttered by my 2-year-old. "Daddy, I DON'T love you and I'm only proud of ME!"
5. Even greater blankie need.
6. An overall feeling of anger towards anything smiling. :) -> :(

Good luck with that!! I have no answers as of yet... Lots of cuddling and not much "getting stuff done" has been happening around here. Hey, when people enter rehab they need lots of human contact too, right?

All is "quiet" here right now as I found two very noisy fire trucks hiding in the basement which seemed to have appeased the masses for now.

I can't let the TV raise my children??!!!??

What?! Howcome?

I have embarked on a quest to take my children back from their current caretaker; the TV.

Why I have chosen to do this in February, the suicide month, don't ask me. Maybe it's because it is so very easy to use the TV now. We haven't been outside in months, yet the days are getting longer and the increased sunshine is giving my children an energy level not suited for indoors! When things start to unravel (ok let's be honest, first thing in the morning!) the TV goes on and the running, screaming, and fighting stops. Oh that blessed quiet moment when Tinkerbell flies across the screen. I think I may be falling in love with her! I'm also doing this now because this Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent.

Lent. I used to dread this season. The time when Daddy made me pick something to give up for 40 days so that I could spend the extra time getting ready for the Easter season. Now I kinda look forward to it.

I am NOT intrinsically motivated. (For you who haven't learned teacher-speak, that means I don't have that little voice inside that tells me I will be happier if I just get this done!) I require some sort of extrinsic (from the outside...) motivation. Lent gives me the opportunity to have an outside reason to accomplish something. (I'll save the discussion as to whether or not this fits with the spirit of Lent for another day.)

So here we are. No TV. Well, it's been 5 hours and no deaths, so I'd say we are doing ok.

Some moments, I ask myself why I didn't try this sooner!

Happily puzzling. 

Reading Charlotte's Web. 

But the majority of the time, THIS was the norm.

WHY???!!

PLEASE???!!!

Somewhere along the line, (I believe it was after a hearty lunch.) We ended up here.

This all looked very familiar. I actually turned around to see if the TV was on. They were all doing the activities they would normally do in front of their favourite show, only there was no show.

So why did I need it in the first place?          See above pics.

Getting to a place of understanding that TV was NOT HAPPENING took 6 hours.        6.        Today.        I am fully aware that we will have to do this all again tomorrow.

Well. It's almost nap time and Nanny TV has not made an appearance yet. YAY! Project for the afternoon? Some sort of craft..........

Playdough and popsicle sticks, anyone?

What kind of training do you need to be a wedding planner?

My little brother got married today. It was amazingly beautiful. There was a huge forest created on a dull grey stage. Where a simple doorway once stood a beautiful country portal. As I helped set the countless (ok 31) tables and looked around at all the millions of details that go into creating the most amazing day in a girl's life, I wanted nothing more than to do that everyday.

I LOVED planning my wedding. I loved thinking of all the petty details and little things that could go wrong and thwarting them!! Like the Superman of festive occasions. It's a bird! It's a plane! It's the wedding planner!

Here's the problem. I have little to know interior design skill. Interior design befuddles me! Colour? The brighter the better! (Not always desirable at a wedding!) So....

What kind of training do you need to be a wedding planner?