Night-Training

Ian was dry again this morning! I got him up around 11:00 when I went to bed and had him pee. He was really groggy and I had to hold him up at the toilet so he didn't lose his balance and fall in, but he peed a little and went straight back to bed. The downside, he got up around 2:30 this morning and wanted to be up for the day. He was soooo angry when I made him get back in bed. Then, before 6am, both boys were in my room snickering and making a bunch of noise. Craig sent them back to bed but they never went. They goofed around in their room for 10 minutes or so before waking Kyle with the racket when I finally submitted and got up with them.

It's going to be a long day.

Post Weekend

So. Phew. I don't really even know where to begin. Nothing's really been happening, I guess, and that's why I haven't blogged in so long. But now I don't really know what to say.

We spent the weekend with family. That was cool. The boys spent today recouperating in their jammies and we read stories together and played lots of Lego in the playroom.

I was able to head out to hunt for some deals at the mall and low and behold, Justin Bieber had just left. Apparently he was there shopping with his entourage of bodyguards and when I arrived the screaming girls were still busy texting all their friends. It made the 6 o'clock news and it looked like the whole thing was quite the scene. I feel sorry for the kid but who in their right mind heads out to shop on Boxing Day when they're as popular as him unless they want to make a scene. Yep, that's what I thought.

The kids are doing really well. Kyle's learning around one new word every couple of days. His latest ones are "stinky" (tinty) and "more" (mah). Shaun has been keeping himself surprisingly busy while out of school. We went tobogganing last week and he had a blast flying down the hill headfirst. Ian is nearly night-trained and has been fighting tooth and nail to wear underwear to bed. He's been dry every night for nearly a week even with all the late nights we've had recently so tonight I put him in undies. His sheets are due to be changed this week so I figured now was as good a time as any for him to have a wet bed. We'll see if I change my tune tomorrow.

Craig had his first ever visit to the chiropractor last week for his back. He said the guy snapped-crackled-and-popped him and he felt a little better that day and into the following day but admitted to me on the weekend that he's back to feeling the same back pain. I know a lot of people feel like they need to rely on a chiropractor to give them regular adjustments (including many of Craig's own immediate family). We rely on other methods that don't include a chiropractor but this visit was a last resort for him. Poor guy! And it ended up being $80 down the tubes for the consultation and adjustment.

Overall we're keeping busy. I've accepted more and more that the house will never be as clean as I'd like it and that ALL the laundry will never be done at the same time ever again and that there will probably be some sort of food remnant in Kyle's highchair. That's okay. My kids won't remember that the toilet seat usually has little drips on it; they'll remember that I'm hopeless at the card game War, that I can toboggan down a hill with a child on each knee and still manage to stop at the bottom before hitting the fence, and that mini trampolines are a lot bouncier than they look!

Mike Tompkins

I'm not one to pay much attention to celebrities. I purposely look away at all the rag-magazines in the grocery store because I'm determined to not be someone who perpetuates rumors. I have a celebrity crush though. Yep, as of tonight. I don't even think he's officially a celebrity but he's appeared on the Today show so I guess that qualifies as somewhat of a celebrity. The thing that got me is that he was born and raised in a teeny tiny town very close to where I grew up. He would have gone to my high school (and if you know my high school you'll realize how completely amazing that is since it had a complete population of under 1000 when I was there). I just think what he does is absolutely amazing.

Mike Tompkins has a true talent, and I have a crush! Isn't he cute in a geeky/nerdy sorta way?

Also, check out the top-right image around 2:05 or so. The way he's groovin' makes me laugh every time!

Perks

Have I mentioned how much I love Ian's Nursery School? If I have, I apologize for telling you again, but I Love Ian's Nursery School. He's still in the toddler room - and will be until the end of June when the school closes for the summer - and it can be busy and loud at times, but he loves it there. The best part is that there's so many little perks for the families.

A few weeks ago we took advantage of a Date Night only for nursery school families. It involved us dropping off our kids there at 5 o'clock for a pizza supper, crafts, a movie, a snack, and other activities (Shaun reported a scavenger hunt in his school-age group) and being able to leave for 4 hours and do whatever the hell we wanted. Yup, 4 hours of no-kids-so-what-should-we-do-with-our-time free time. When we picked them up, both were exhausted and Shaun told stories all the way home of all the fun he had; even though it's Baby School, according to him.

Tonight I braved the snow and cold and an infant with a terrible cold and brought all 3 to a Christmas Craft Night. Snacks were provided again, and they had a huge room set up with tables all covered with various craft activities. Staff were on hand to help direct each craft while I chased Kyle around as he crawled everywhere and tried to eat every single tiny bead he found on the floor. It was exhausting and I was worried I would regret heading out tonight, but the kids had fun and each ended up with a pretty snazzy mini Christmas tree outta the deal. We didn't get to the last craft: an angel to top the tree. It's okay anyway because Kyle was starting to get pretty crabby by the end.

I'm not completely decided on whether Ian will return to this nursery school for his preschool years or not. Mostly because their preschool program is very large (like, 50 kids kinda large!). The larger group is split into 4 smaller groups, each with their own teacher, but the children move from room to room throughout the morning so there's a lot of transitions. I'll have to ask more questions as the decision approaches. For now though, the perks are almost enough to send Ian back for preschool!

Canine Advantage

We don't have a dog. Not because we don't like dogs, because we do. In fact, a dog is in our 5 year plan. Well, maybe 10 year plan. I grew up with a dog, so did Craig. Dogs are wonderful for teaching your children about responsibility, compassion, patience, love; I could go on and on. Aside from the hair and expense of having a dog, they really are wonderful creatures. We don't have a dog because we don't have room in our hearts or calendar for a dog. We know that.

Why, then, do so many people have dogs who do not care for them like they deserve? I'm sitting here listening to a dog barking outside. It's the same dog that stays outside around the clock in the summer and barks all night long. The same dog who I have never seen outside of her backyard. This dog lives at the same house where the grass is never mowed, the garage door paint is faded and peeling, the driveway isn't shoveled in the winter. I've never seen the owner, only heard her when she screams at the dog from her bedroom window at night to, "shut-up!". There's a swingset in the backyard that sits just beyond the tall cedars. I've never seen any children playing on it. There's a dirt path beaten into the overgrown grass that runs along the fence line but I know it's not from children's feet.

I ache for this poor dog. She deserves a much better life than the one she has.

Sweet Slumber

Kyle has been an awesome sleeper since basically the day he was born. In fact, all three boys were sleeping through the night pretty early. I think Ian took the longest to sleep through consistently and I seem to remember he was about 4 months old, so still a LOT younger than many, many babies. It seems that Kyle, though, has an appetite for sleep like no other child I've ever met. Take for example his napping. He still takes 3 naps a day at nearly 11 months old. Yes, 3 naps. He goes down in the morning for about an hour and a half, then in the afternoon right after he eats his lunch for about 2 hours (sometimes it's close to 3) and then a quick 45 minute catnap right around dinner time. He's back in bed for the night at 7:30 and doesn't wake up again until 7 or later the following morning. Tonight his catnap began at 4PM and I heard him stirring just before 7PM. He slept right through all the rattling and banging the Bigs were creating, right through dinner, right through me vacuuming the staircase; he's a sleeper, I told you! So I went and got him; he was still groggy and snuggly. Just like I like it! I quickly fed him some dinner and then at 7:45 as I was getting the Bigs ready for bed, I threw Kyle's pyjamas on him with no intention of sticking him back in bed, more so he'd be ready for bed later, and he was sooo cranky and whiny that I ended up putting him back to bed anyway. And the kid fell asleep again! Normally I'd be worried one of the other boys would be up way earlier than normal with such a big nap right before bed but Kyle is such a sleeper I just know he'll be the last one to wake up in the morning. It's almost like when he plays too much during the day he just can't turn his brain off enough for his naps to get a good, restful sleep and ends up napping longer. What a kid, I tell ya!

Like I said, Ian has been our toughest nut to crack in the sleep department. He still sleeps and naps far better than a lot of kids his age and I think I'm the envy of a lot of my Mommy friends who have children who absolutely refuse to nap or still wake up multiple times during the night. After we got past Ian getting out of bed 20 times a night before falling asleep, it's been pretty smooth sailing. Until I got this book about monsters, that is. I bought a book last week called, "There's No Such Thing As Monsters". It's basically about a little bear who moves out of his big brother's room and into his own room. He's lonely and afraid without his big brother bear and sees monsters in the shapes and shadows in his new room. Big bear comes in a few times and eases little bear's fears and by the end of the story, little bear is snoring. Ian loves this book and has been asking for it to be read to him multiple times a day since the day it came home.

Last week Craig mentioned to me that Ian woke up around midnight one night and was calling for me from the top of the stairs. Craig was still awake so he came upstairs and cuddled with Ian a little. Ian told Craig he was afraid of the monsters in his room. A little history: our boys have never, ever, mentioned monsters. Shaun's never been afraid of anything in his closet or under his bed, like many kids are. We never talk about monsters because they've never been a problem. We closely sensor the small amounts of TV our boys watch and there's never anything even potentially scary in the shows so Craig was a little puzzled over where this whole fear of monsters was coming from, until I told him about the new book.

Then last night I was cleaning up some things upstairs before heading to bed myself and I heard Ian gasp in his sleep. Right after that he came stumbling out of his room looking for me, saying he'd had a bad dream about monsters. The poor little guy is afraid of monsters now from this book that's supposed to cure children's fears of exactly that! I feel awful!

Before and After

Before and After, and not the kind you think.

While we were getting ready to head out the door to do the groceries tonight I realized how much I've changed since having Shaun. Keep reading...

Me Before:
I would make sure my clothes were clean and any jeans had no wrinkles before heading out the door. My hair was always brushed and usually tied back into a neat ponytail, sometimes with a strand of hair pinned around the elastic.
Me After:
Do I have clothes on? Yes? Good. Hair? Umm, I'll wear a hat today.

Grocery List Before:
All the items were organized in neat little sections on my sheet of binder paper. I would put dairy in the top left corner, next to that bread products and then produce, etc. It was a list created by a Master. I would make sure my handwriting was pristine in case I lost my list in the grocery store so that whoever would pick it up would think, "My, this gal has very nice handwriting."
Grocery List After:
A discarded piece of paper - usually the back of a bill, with mostly illegible scribbles on it of strange things to get this shop like lemon grass, garlic mayo, and paneer. For the rest of the shop, I wing it.

Diaper Bag Before:
The always-completely-stocked wipes were neatly tucked in an inside pocket. I'd use the premium diapers when I'd go out so that if I was changing Shaun in a washroom people wouldn't think I was using the cheapies (meanwhile I had the cheapies at home). I had snacks (only fruit so people wouldn't think I fed my kid junk), books, small toys and a complete change of good clothes for Shaun in there.
Diaper Bag After:
Diapers. Check. Shake the wipes container. If it sounds like there's something in there: Check. Undies for Ian. Check. Plus any random toys that one of the kids has dumped in there, usually a couple of mints from the last restaurant visit, and sometimes a half-full bottle of water where the water has condensed on the top of the bottle because it's been sitting in there so long.

My Kid Before:
Shaun would be dressed only in his best clothes. Name brand, all matchy-matchy, his best coat and shoes and usually I'd spike his hair up into a mohawk because I loved the attention it would get him.
My Kids After:
Is everyone dressed? Usually I make this observation around the same time as I'm making my own on myself. Are all the shoes accounted for? Are all the children accounted for?

My Vehicle Before:
I drove a sharp silver Grand Prix with brushed chrome rims and dark tinted windows. I had a stash of my favourite CDs in the multi-disc player and more on the visor where I stored my flashy sunglasses.
My Vehicle After:
A dull brown minivan with finger-printed and tongue-printed windows and a non-working rear windshield wiper that is permanently stuck half way through it's stroke. My 6-disc CD changer houses Raffi, Sesame Street, Raffi's Greatest Hits, Igor Soundtrack, Madagascar Soundtrack, and Mixed Kids' Songs. In that order. I have no sunglasses because my children continue to wear them and subsequently break them.

Why do people continue to have children if this is what their lives become????

Because of this:



And this:



And this:

Say What You Need to Say

Gah! How do I say nicely to Craig without sounding like a miserable nagging wife,

"I appreciate you taking the initiative to throw in a load of laundry. How is it possible that you can grab random things from the already-clearly-sorted piles and pitch them into the washer all together? Now that the one stinky dish cloth which was in the 'bleach' pile was washed with a load of pyjamas, it has essentially infected the whole load and now everything reeks like stinky dish cloth."

Is there any way to put that nicely? He scratches his head over the water bill every month and not so jokingly blames my long showers but I honestly think it's this whole 'gotta do the same load of laundry again' gig. Seriously, it drives me completely bananas!

I could throw him a little slack if, say, the piles weren't clearly sorted; or if I hadn't explained numerous times the importance of pile sorting and keeping like items together (jeans with jeans, towels with towels, or perhaps, stinky dish cloths with stinky dish cloths); or if the cost of water and the price to heat it wasn't an issue. But come on!!! We've been over this before.

For the most part I'm very lucky that Craig is so completely normal and wonderful and loving and totally into being a Dad and just, ahhh, now I'm feeling all mushy... I hate laundry. It seriously is the bane of my existence. The absolute last thing I want to do on this entire earth (including eating fermented squid guts and taking out the compost - in that order) is to do the same load of laundry twice. No kidding!

Smarty Pants

You know, I don't want to brag. Ahhh, who am I kidding? Of course I want to brag! Isn't that basically the whole point of a blog? Among it being a place to vent, ask for advice, update; but I'm gonna brag today.

Kyle's talking. Like, really talking. Okay, only a couple of words but seriously he's talking. He's been rattling off Mama for over a month and really meaning it. Like when I return to the room he's playing in, when I go to get him after a long nap, or when he's waiting not-so-patiently in his highchair for his meal. He's perfected Dada, too, and drops one of those in frequently.

"Kyle, who's that?"

"Dada!"

"Say hi to Daddy, Kyle."

"Da, da, da, Dada!"

I never get a Dada and Craig never gets a Mama. He means 'em, and I love it.

At 10 months Kyle can wave. Even when no one prompts him he'll get his little hand going; opening and shutting. Sometimes if the person is extra special he'll use two hands. Tonight as I was tucking the Bigs into bed I had Kyle in my arms and we were backing out of the room as I was saying Goodnight. Kyle came out with Bah-Bah, and waved. We've heard him use Bah or Buh before and it's often when we're referring to Beaner or Boo-Boo (our enormously huge and very friendly cat).

A couple of days ago, though, Kyle and I were saying goodbye to Craig at the door before he left for work and, I kid you not, Kyle said, "Dada, bah."

I looked at Craig, he looked at me, and we both said, "No way!". I'm beginning to believe we really heard what we both though we heard.

Kyle's also been attempting to say, Shaun. All we get out of him is a hisssss right now but it's consistently when we're talking about Shaun and saying Shaun's name to Kyle. Ian calls Shaun, Saun, so I think that may be where Kyle's connecting the ssss sound with Shaun's name.

I don't remember the other boys figuring out all this language so young. It must be that Kyle hears noise and talking from one person or another all day long. Every single waking moment there's someone around him who's speaking; either to him directly or to another person. I sing songs to the children every single day and read them countless stories. We play goofy little rhyming games and fingerplays with one another and Kyle is usually around for all of those. I guess it's all paying off!

Also, Kyle's crawling. As of November 9 (so I'm a tad behind) something sort of clicked in his head and he figured out how to co-ordinate all his extremities and that was the beginning of the end. I hadn't been encouraging him to crawl at all. In fact, often when I'd see he was up on all fours and rocking like nobody's business, I'd plunk him back on his bum and distract him with toys. The way I see it, he'll learn to crawl and walk eventually. No kid enters Kindergarten not being able to walk but many go into Kindergarten not being able to speak clearly and be understood. We've always focused more on the language and intellectual side first with our boys and let the gross motor come naturally. But this night he was determined to get something from the bath toy basket in the main bathroom and he was off. Once he realized what he'd done, it was all over. He was crawling all over the place only half an hour later. It was truly a sight and Shaun was in heaven! (Background: Shaun's been saying for months that he can't wait until Kyle can crawl so they can play together. He must forget how much of a pain it is to have his baby brother trying to get everything he's playing with!)

So that's the end of my brag session. Kyle's humongous and smiley and smart. He's an amazing napper, sleeps 12 straight hours at night and adjusts to pretty much any damn thing we need him to. Stay up until 11 because we're visiting family in Toronto? Sure. Skip a nap because his cousin wants to play? Absolutely. Wear mittens for a whole hour? No problem. Fall asleep without his suckie? Okay, that's where he draws the line. Stupid suckie. I lost one today on the walk to get Shaun at school so I only have one left. I can't find the identical soother ANYWHERE (believe me, I've checked EVERYWHERE) and he only accepts the one specific kind. Again, believe me, I've tried other kinds and he wants nothing to do with them. *sigh* Oh well. If that's the only thing that makes him cry, I'll take it!

It Ain't Right

One of the biggest disadvantages of being a family of 5 is that the world is built for a family of 4.

Hotel room? Sure. 2 adults, 2 kids... oh, you have 3 kids. Ummm, that'll be an extra charge.

Table for 4? Oh, you're 5? Ummm, you'll have to wait for a table. Sorry.

Vacation to Disney? Absolutely. Oh, it will cost extra for a third child. Our packages are only for 2 adults and 2 kids.

What really jerks my chain is that the divorce rate is right around 50% for North America so do the families with only 1 adult get a discount? Not a chance! It's just stupid and it's really starting to tick me off. Once Kyle reaches 1 year old he will officially count as an extra body in our hotel rooms. Really. Stupid.

What got me on this soap box is the fact that we have outgrown our kitchen table. Craig and I bought it years ago out of the Pennysaver (before Kijiji or Facebook even existed) when we were still a family of 2. It's a beautiful solid oak pedestal table with 2 leaves and 4 matching oak arm chairs. That's all fine and dandy as long as you're only entertaining 2 people at a time or if you're only a family of 4. Now that we have 5 kids we need to expand and a table that seats 6 just isn't going to cut it. What? Are we going to have only one person over at a time?

"Sorry Aunt Bertha. It's Uncle Herbert's turn this Christmas. You can come next year."

I'm campaigning for a table that seats 8. But not just any ol' table. It can't be pub style. It seems SO many 8-seaters are pub style. SO impractical for those with kids. I hate them. It has to be harvest style, so no pedestal. It must have leaves for it so I can expand it to seat at least 10; maybe 12 in a pinch. No veneered tops. They chip and peel away and just look generally ugly within 10 years of purchase. We have waaaaay more than 10 years with kids in the house. AND it can't come with chairs. Seriously. I have this grand idea of a table with mismatched chairs seated around it. We have a dining room that isn't used for it's intended purpose so the kitchen table is where we eat. Who wants a formal dining set in their kitchen? I figure a nice table plus mismatched chairs will equal shabby chic. Yes?

Anyway, do you think I can find a table that matches my specific requirements? Yeah, and Kyle changes his own diaper and my dishes washed themselves this afternoon and Craig put a remote control on the lawn rake and pigs fly.

Garbie No More

Craig and I had started calling Shaun, Garbie, because of his garbage bag arm when he'd have a bath. Well, he got the cast removed this morning so I guess we'll have to go back to calling him Boogie. He's been keeping his arm bent at the 90' angle just like when he had it in the cast and the doctor said no bike riding or climbing for a few days, but the bone is completely healed. I think the cast became a bit of a security blanket for Shaun because he was crying, yes crying, this morning while getting ready to head to the hospital with Craig. As a consolation prize, he got to keep his cast. He's asked us to hang it on his wall like a trophy. What is with this kid?!

His arm was all thin-looking (I don't think it shrunk in only 4 weeks but I've gotten so used to seeing it larger-than-life because of the cast that it was a little alarming to see how tiny it really is) and the skin was flaking when I picked him up from school this afternoon.

The doctor said Shaun should regain the full range of motion within a week and to call if we have any concerns. I know a little guy who had the same exact break as Shaun and he can't even bend his elbow to 90' post cast even though it was cast at that angle. He's been referred to some specialists at another hospital and they're looking at surgery to help him regain some motion. I hope it doesn't come to that with Shaun.

Two More Sleeps

So I don't understand enough about Blogger to be able to mess with the margins to make this collage fit but if you click on the collage itself you should be able to follow it back to Photobucket where you'll be able to see the whole thing.

Two more sleeps until Shaun gets his cast off and an x-ray of his arm. I'd like to think it's healed enough that he can get the cast completely removed but if necessary, they'll recast him for another 3 weeks.

Moment

Bicycles in the driveway... CHECK

Dirty knees on pants... CHECK

Dishes in the sink... and on the counter... and spilling out of the dishwasher... CHECK

Piles of laundry throughout the house... CHECK

Stack of library books on Ian's bed... CHECK

Empty hangers in closet and coats on floor... CHECK

Late bedtime because I was spending too much time enjoying my boys... CHECK


Time flies when you're having fun - really! I'm learning to live in the moment and accept that things in my life will not always be perfect. Things are so much clearer as I'm watching my boys grow up.

My Circus

I pull out of the driveway and the whining and complaining starts. The clock is closing in on 5:30 and no one has eaten yet. Kyle ditches his suckie on the floor of the van which is already littered with dead raisins, smooshed granola bars, juice box straws and Little Critter books. Great, I think, we're off to a great start. I'd better feed this side show before I do the groceries or I'll never get out of there alive; and neither will they. It's not like I have a big shop to do. Enough to get us through the weekend and maybe Monday; some milk and cheese and oatmeal and fruit for Shaun's school snack. Half an hour -- tops.

"Hold my hand or hold Shaun's," I tell Ian.

"No Mom, Ian's walk by self. No hold Saun's hand."

"Shaun, hold your brother's hand please." The diaper bag is stuffed with my whole life and slung over my shoulder. I can't turn too quickly or it'll slide off and dump all the contents on the wet pavement in the parking lot. Kyle is dripping off my hip and I struggle to readjust him with my only free leg. Ian is drifting further into the cars' driving aisle as we walk towards the grocery store entrance. Shaun offers Ian his hand.

"No Saun, no hold hands. Ian's walk by self." He walks a little quicker and I shout to Shaun to keep up because we're crossing the main freeway of the parking lot. Ian's leading, I'm struggling with Kyle who I'm now holding by his waist; his legs dangling behind me. Shaun is bringing up the rear, commenting on the Ironman mask on display for the 184th time.

"Here, let's take a cart." Kyle is quickly buckled in and I realize I didn't dig his suckie off the van floor. Crap. I'll have to go back. There's no way he'll last without it. I jam Ian into the seat, kicking and screaming he wants to walk, and Shaun climbs into the front. Whatever. It'll be quicker this way.

Back to the van we go.

"Weeeeeeee! I like riding in the cart, Mom!"

"No Mom! Ian's ride wit Saun in tart. Ian's no sit wit Tiyo."

"Enough Ian, it's not for long. We just have to get back to the van so I can grab Kyle's suckie. You can walk when we get back inside."

This explanation seems to satisfy Ian and he sits quietly, only commenting on a blue car here or a big bird there. When we get to the van I dig through the stickiness on the floor of the van. I really need to vacuum this thing, I've been telling myself for months it needs to be done. On my next day off. I feel my hand close on his suckie and I pull it up. Hmm, raisins don't go bad, do they? I pull off the raisin and blow off the hair and clip the suckie back to Kyle's coat. He smiles and maneuvers it into his mouth.

Close the door, lock it. Back into the grocery store we go.

"Weeeeeeeee! Hey Mom, can I ride in the cart all the time? This is really fun and my legs don't get sore from walking. Oh look, the Ironman mask. I'm going to save my allowance and buy that mask Mom. It costs fifty dollars and I've counted -- I have almost ten dollars. So maybe in 10 more weeks I'll have fifty dollars. Do you know what I'm going to buy after the Ironman mask?"

I'm steering the rattling cart in between shoppers pushing carts laden with bags brimming with groceries. When we get to the other side of the store where the hot deli is Shaun hops out and points to a piece of chicken schnitzel. I ask the blonde teen behind the counter for the schnitzel and he places it in a small paper box and hands it to me. I grab a salad and a bento box of sushi and stand in line to pay. Kyle has forgotten about his suckie and is turning around trying to grab the box of sushi. Ian is crying that he wants pizza. Shaun is gone; running ahead to the eating area.

We always eat at the same table. It's right beside the garbage can, just on the other side of the wall from the microwave so I can warm Kyle's food and supervise the side show, and is at the end of the aisle so the cart can park beside us and contain all our gear. As I round the corner I notice there's someone sitting at our table and Shaun is talking to her.

"...and we usually sit here. My Mom needs this table for me and my brothers."

"Hi. No, please don't move. We're fine. Here Shaun, let's sit at the next table. There's plenty of room and the cart doesn't have to be right beside us." I start to unload the Littles while Shaun makes himself comfortable. Everyone is hungry and whining. Kyle is frantically gnawing on the edge of the table from his highchair. I toss his container of leftover spaghetti into the microwave and smile at the woman as I walk past. It's okay, I tell myself, it's only a few feet further. No worries. Kyle is hyperventilating; he's so desperate to eat. Geez, when did he eat last? Three something? I'm sure he had some yogurt a couple of hours ago.

"Ding, Mom. Tiyo's food's ready!"

I hear the microwave beeping over Kyle's frantic whining and rush to finish cutting the schnitzel and mix the salad before pulling the sizzling pureed spaghetti out. Kyle sees his dish and goes mental. At least the Bigs have their food. I try desperately to offer Kyle his suckie while I huff and puff on his food. He's completely insulted and is determined to let me know.

Eventually we all get the chance to eat. I learn that Ian loves sushi.

Kyle barfs all down his one and only shirt after gulping water and having it fall down the wrong hole. Ohmygawdwhatamess. Why oh why didn't I pack extra clothes for Kyle? All I have is a size 2 long sleeve t-shirt for Ian. It'll have to do and I roll up the sleeves after tugging it onto Kyle's round head.

We're quite the sight collecting our garbage that has been strewn across 4 small round tables. There's a fair buffet under Kyle's highchair, complete with a side of spaghetti barf. Thank goodness for a slew of shea butter scented diaper wipes and a stash of Lysol wipes in the diaper bag. The table's good as new. The floor will have to wait for a broom and dustpan and a mop.

In the produce section Shaun keeps Ian entertained by dancing and singing the Spiderman theme song and pretending to sling webs and swing on them. It's quite the show until Ian shouts, "Ian's have poo Mom! Poo's comin' now, Mom!"

I'm immediately on overdrive. I toss the cauliflower into the cart, tell Shaun we need to leave right now and start trotting to the closest washroom, all while pushing the cart carrying Ian and supporting Kyle who's nestled against my chest in the wrap. The rent-a-cop at the main doors chuckles and says something about my being back so soon. I ignore him, yank Ian out of the cart and ask Shaun to crab the diaper bag and follow me.

"Ian's wants push button," he whines. There's an automatic door going into the washroom for wheelchair use. If there's poo in his pants I'm going to lose my mind. I let him push the button anyway and we wait the painfully slow 4 seconds for the door to open before rushing in and piling into the tiny stall. Ian's breathing deeply now so I know he's anxious.

"Mom, I don't need to go into the toilet room, okay? I'll stand right here. Or maybe I'll just wait outside the bathroom. Actually I do need to pee. I'll go to the bathroom beside this one. It's the one with a boy on the door and you're not allowed in there because you're not a boy. You're a girl because you have a -"

"That's enough, Shaun." I interrupt him just in time. "Choose your stall. You're staying in the washroom."

Ian's having success on the toilet. Only Kyle is uncomfortable because I'm kneeling and his head is dangling out of the wrap. He adjusts his suckie and sighs.

Once we're back out in the grocery store, Shaun is wired and bouncing all over the place. He crashes into the first display we come to. He's not hurt but is embarassed and pouts for the next 10 minutes. Eventually he perks up and he and Ian are back to being goofy. By now Kyle is starting to doze and I'm done with this grocery business. Half an hour - ha! Who was I kidding?! Only myself apparently because it's been an hour an a half since I first pulled into my parking space and I'm only now walking back to the front of the store to the check--

SMASH! "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Shaun's bouncing has earned him a nice goose egg on his forehead, courtesy of a Campbell's soup display. I'm stunned. Shaun's sobbing. Ian's picking his nose. Kyle's snoring.

I pile our few items onto the conveyor belt. Milk, apples, chicken breasts, broccoli.

"Uh oh Mom." Three words a mother never wants to hear from her 2 year old. "Ian's made big mess. Ian's sorry Mom."

He's holding a white lid in his right hand and an empty cranberry juice single serve in the other. The cranberry juice is dripping off our coats below where Ian is sitting and pooling on the white floor in a sticky puddle.

"Mooooooommmmmmm, that's MY juice! I was saving that for tomorrow when I have breakfast. I was going to have Kellogg's Frosted Flakes and milk. Did you know 'they're grrrreat'? That's Tony the Tiger who says that. Do you remember seeing tigers at the zoo Mom? It was so hot that day and they were hiding under the trees but we still saw them..."

All I can do is hang my head and apologize to the cashier. Me and my circus. My barfy, poopy, head-bangin', juice spillin' side show. Admission is free. Bring extra clothes and Tylenol.

Before I Read You the Riot Act

This is an oldish photo (like, I took it about a month ago) but uploading it from my camera completely reminded me of this day and how much of a comedic relief my seeing the Bigs climbing on the shelves at the grocery store really was.

The day had lasted a week, it felt, and the grocery store was insane -- as usual. I was waiting in line to checkout, turned around and saw Shaun and Ian. I happened to have the camera in the diaper bag and snapped this picture. I was getting all sorts of nasty looks from people around me (Only women. What is it with NASTY women?!) but I didn't care.

I only have one protest and that's the price. On this day I would have given the Bigs away but on days like today - most days, in fact - I wouldn't sell them for any amount of money. Well, maybe for a lifetime supply of Starburst.

A Few From the Weekend

New Adventures

I'm 12 hours into 60 of Craig being gone. He's off to a training session offered by his union until Wednesday night. At first I was apprehensive about him going. Will I be able to contact him if there's an emergency? Will he be paid for the time off from work? Who is he going with and do I trust them? I mostly worried because my Dad always went away for work conferences when I was little and Mom has told me more than once that Dad stopped going because his co-workers always wanted to hit the 'rippers at night. That's not my Dad's thing and it's certainly not Our thing. I know Craig's not like that either but it was kind of in the back of my mind.

Now that I've survived the first half-day, it's been a bit of an adventure! The boys and I raked the leaves this morning and played around in them a little, I got a bunch of cleaning done this afternoon while Shaun was at school and the Littles were napping and then we hit McDonalds and their play centre for dinner. What a treat for the Bigs! They could hardly sit still to eat their dinner.

Tomorrow my Mom is coming to stay overnight because early Wednesday morning someone has to take Ian to nursery school and, at the same time, Shaun is due at the hospital for a follow-up for his broken arm. I was really hoping I could somehow manage to be in both places at once (and almost was able to make it work with the before-care option at Ian's nursery school) but I still had to worry about not being able to pick him up on time. Thank goodness for Moms!

Shaun is desperate to get his cast off. I keep reminding him that he likely has another 3 weeks at least of wearing a cast and then he reminds me that the one he has on is coming off on Wednesday and that his arm doesn't hurt anymore. I hope it won't be too upsetting for him when the doctor tells him he needs another cast on Wednesday. His arm has shrunk back to normal size and with the swelling gone, his cast and the cotton inside is beginning to really irritate his arm. He was frantic a couple of night ago because his arm was itchy but he couldn't get at the itch. He was practically climbing the walls. Well, Mommy came to the rescue and found an extra long paint brush that's thinner than a pencil (I use it to touch up baseboards) and he's been dragging it around with him. It even found its way to school today in his backpack. He'll jam it through the top of his cast up near his shoulder and move the stick up and down. He was melting that first night because the itching felt so good. I've been there -- although I didn't have access to anything to stop the itch.

It's been different with Craig not here. There's no sounding board to run ideas past or discipline issues, and there isn't anyone to take over because I need a break; but there's also no one to worry about disturbing when I want to vacuum, the kitchen is clean because I washed all the dishes and there weren't any stragglers brought up from the basement, and all the shoes and coats are neatly in the closet - right where they should be. But I'd give up all the tidiness to have him home. I miss him. 46 hours and 26 minutes. Oh, now it's 25 minutes. :)

Distal Humerus Fracture

While this isn't Shaun's x-ray, his is basically identical to these. We were given a copy of the x-rays on a CD but for whatever reason I can't gain access to the pictures except to view them. I can't even find them on the CD; it's like they don't exist.

Anyway, the section with 2 bones is the lower arm, below the elbow. His break is in his humerus, the upper arm bone, as is shown in these photos. It goes all the way around the bone which is why the doctor was concerned about Shaun needing surgery. I guess it's pretty common for a break like this to cause a shift in the alignment of the bones. But even though Shaun's humerus broke all the way around, it never shifted, thus, no surgery. Yay!

He's completely self-conscious of his cast and sling which is the opposite of how I thought he would be. I figured he'd love all the attention and be showing it off. But he wanted a long sleeve shirt today and was upset that I couldn't put his sling under his sleeve. Even when his friends asked at school what happened, all he said was, 'he fell'. He has gym class today and I already spoke with his teacher about Shaun's expectations and limitations. I also told Shaun that he won't be able to do everything like the other kids but to at least try and make sure to ask for help if he realizes he can't do something on his own. Hopefully once he gets more comfortable using only one hand/arm for things it'll be easier for him. I even had to feed him dinner last night and breakfast this morning. It's like I have 2 toddlers and an infant since Shaun can't do pretty much everything. I even had to help him in the bathroom this morning. Poor guy!

Monkey See, Monkey Do, Monkey Break

A little background first: Shaun's never been much of a risk-taker. Alright, he's a complete chicken. He never wants to try anything new, doesn't ever fold to peer pressure, doesn't push himself or challenge himself. Until recently, that is. Now suddenly he's trying all this new stuff and I'm completely thrilled about it but he's learned there's sometimes consequences.

I've watched kids climb on this small storage building at the park. It's about 8 feet tall and has a flat roof. Kids shimmy up the drain pipe and use the hydro pole to brace themselves against as they pull themselves up to the roof. They sit up there and goof around, watching the smaller kids play on the playground nearby. I've given kids heck for sitting up there. Mostly because there's an electrical wire that travels from the pole into the side of the building that I'm petrified one will get electrocuted from, but also because it's downright dangerous. It's a pretty small building; about 10 feet by 6 feet, and 8 feet tall, so there's not much room for a lot of people up there and I've seen up to 10 kids up there at once. I've forbidden Shaun to climb up there and he's been with me when I told other kids it's not a good idea.

Craig and Shaun went to this park on the weekend and Shaun asked to climb the building. Craig simply can't tell Shaun not to do something that he would have done himself at the same age. (Craig also spray painted the front steps of a church early Easter Sunday morning, smashed signs in a drive-thru, and stole a car as a kid! I don't see where his logic makes sense. But that's for a completely different post.) So Shaun learned how to climb onto the roof of this storage building. He came home all excited that he did it himself and insisted I watch him do it at the very next opportunity. I made sure to remind Craig that I absolutely do NOT allow Shaun to climb on this building for the reasons I mentioned and all he could say was that he would have done something similar as a kid so he couldn't tell Shaun, "No". Please.

Well, long story short, Shaun broke his arm yesterday while showing me how he climbs up this building. He somehow got his shirt caught on the way down and fell the whole 8 feet and landed on his elbow. It's broken just above where his upper arm joins at his elbow. He's wearing a temporary cast until next Wednesday when the swelling should be gone and he returns to the fracture clinic for a permanent cast. Craig went with him to the hospital and says Shaun was pretty brave, especially when it came time for him to move his arm around for x-rays and to get the cast on.

Shaun stayed home from school today but he'll be back tomorrow; showing off his cast, I'm sure.

October

I've been feeling like I need some inspiration lately. Not sure what kind. Whether it be moving furniture around in the basement, making something new for dinner one night, walking a different route to Shaun's school and playing at a different park. And this weekend, we did all that... and more.

I'm rejuvenated.

There's something about this weather - crisp air filled with the smell of sleepy trees - that inspires me. Inspires me to refocus and remember why I'm doing this. This. This being a mom thing.

I ignored all the laundry this weekend. Like, the piles and piles that have been diligently sorted into bright/dark/white on the laundry room floor. I stepped over those piles countless times and kicked the waiting laundry baskets to the side as I was trudging to the storage room to scavenge for new toys.

Shaun and Ian anxiously waited at the door for the next bin of toys to appear. Then they excitedly tore off the lid and rummaged through it, choosing 1 or 2 things from each bin to haul up to the sunny playroom. We cleaned blocks and plastic people and rubber snakes; putting them back into empty bins to wait for the next rotation.

It didn't take long for the 'new' toys to find their way under tables and into forts. I think we fished that blue corvette dinky car out from under the stove at least a dozen times. While the boys kept themselves entertained with all the newness in the playroom, I started vacuuming the basement. With 2 long-hair cats and lots of kids, the basement needs to be vacuumed at least every other day. Well, I have to admit, today, the laundry isn't done and the basement isn't clean. Nope. The vacuum is actually sitting right beside me; still plugged into the wall. And there's dust bunnies everywhere. I can see those, too.

As soon as I turned the thing on, Shaun and Ian made their way downstairs. I ended up bringing Kyle down the basement too since he was all alone in the playroom. I quickly realized it was going to be impossible to clean anything with the toddler riding on the top of the vacuum canister, an infant spinning on his bum and getting his legs stuck under the couch, and a 5-year-old digging through the toy box and pulling out something else as quickly as I was cleaning them up. So I stopped. Vacuuming and cleaning that is.

Instead, I set up the kids' tent on some soft foam mats, carefully placed a fuzzy blanket inside and some pillows and made a trip to the loft to gather some camping things. We made a campsite right here in the basement. Right beside the dust bunnies and piles of laundry in the next room. Over the next few hours we added a campfire made from rolled up brown paper complete with tissue paper flames, a camping chair, and a picnic table. I even hung fall coloured leaves from the ceiling to make it more authentic. And we played. Boy, we played. We roasted cotton ball marshmallows taped to mini hockey sticks. We turned out the lights and watched the stars through the mesh of the tent. And we scared away wild animals with the flashlight.

Then when it came time to decide what was for dinner, I threw my type-A personality out the window and put my cookbook away. We went for a walk instead. Shaun rode his bike, because that's what 5 year old 2-wheeled bike riders do, Ian trotted beside the stroller and Kyle curled up in the wrap for a snooze. It was cold outside and I was glad we all had mitts. Shaun led the charge and decided which ways to turn. We walked in circles but we didn't care. We stopped at a new playground and played there for a while. Then when everyone's cheeks were starting to turn rosy, we found our way back to the cozy spot in the living room and I made a fire. The wood crackled and popped and hissed and before long, the room was toasty and we were removing layers.

We read books in front of the fire and curled up on floor pillows with favourite blankets and buddies. The Bigs had snacks for dinner and Kyle drank until he was drunk and his eyes rolled back into his head. Then, one by one, I carried each boy up to bed. First, Shaun, who sleepily asked for just one more chapter. Then, Ian, who mumbled something about an Eskimo kiss - which I happily agreed to. Finally, Kyle, who arched his back in his bed and silently rolled to one side, his face pressed into his favourite blankie.

Yes, I'm rejuvenated. And the laundry and dust bunnies have waited for me. They're patient. My boys growing up? That's going to happen whether the house is clean or not.

Bad Nana

"Bad Nana, Mom." Ian comes running to me from the playroom. "Ian want Bad Nana."

"Bad Nana?" I ask. "Nana's not bad. Nana loves you."

Ian looks at the floor. I can tell he's thinking.

"Nooo, Nana at home wit Poppy. Ian yove Nana. Ian want Bad Nana."

"You want Nana to be bad? That's not a good idea. Nana's a nice Nana." I'm distracted. Kyle's nursing and is trying to pull off my dangling earrings.

"No Mom!" Ian pauses to get my attention. I look up. "Ian want Bad Nana. Right here," he points to the kitchen table where we keep the plate of fruit. Ian stands on his tippie toes and stretches to reach the plate filled with nice ripe bananas.

"OH!" I wrestle with the nursing baby and stand up from the couch but Ian has already pulled out a chair and is climbing up onto the table. "You want a BANANA!? Here, let me help you."

Doing a little happy dance, Ian shrieks, "Yeah Mom! Ian want badnana!"

My Day in 5 Minutes

"No, Ian, you may not have another piece of gum."

"Wahhhh, scream, whine, complain!"

"The last piece you had, you swallowed it. I'm not giving you anymore today."

"Yeah, Ian, Mommy says no more. But I didn't swallow my gum so I get more. See?"

"No, Yaun! No yo Ian dum. Ian not wahyow dum, Mom. Ian dyop it."

"Whatever Ian. Swallow, drop. It's all the same to me. Shaun! Keep your gum inside your mouth or I will take it away from you!"

"Whine, whine, whine some more! Peese have dum Mom?"

I'm trying to steer my monster cart filled with children through the crowded produce section of my grocery store. Shaun continues to tease Ian with his gum, Ian continues to cry because he doesn't have any (but there's still evidence of the last piece he dropped in the van on the way to the grocery store on his shirt) and Kyle is reaching behind Ian and trying to push his fingers through the holes in the bag of grapes.

"Wow, you must be busy. Are they all yours?"

She's in her 40s and already I don't like her.

"Yes," I reply sweetly. Why is it that whenever I go anywhere with my children people ask me if they're all mine? Of course they're mine. Even if they weren't, what business of yours is it? It's not like I have 9 and they're all following me like little ducklings. I enter into my standard response for situations like this.

"There's 3 years between the 2 older ones, and this one," I place my hand on Kyle's head and he immediately grabs for it and tries to stuff my fingers in his mouth, "was born last winter. There's 16 months between them. It was a busy winter but they keep me young!"

Produce lady puts her hand on Ian's hand and I notice her long painted fingernails. I imagine the griminess crawling under her nails and am relieved when Ian pushes her hand away. She turns to Kyle, touches his spitty hand and quickly pulls her hand away.

"I have 2 boys," she begins, searching her pockets for a kleenex to wipe her hand on.

"Waaaah freaking waaaah! Want dum now Mom!"

"I already told you, no gum."

"... when he was 5 he fell and got so scratched on his knee..."

"Shaun, can you hand me the hand sanitizer from the side pocket?"

"... was working odd hours so thank God my mother..."

"I can't find it Mom."

"Check the other side pocket."

"Det dum Yaun! Ian want mo dum."

"No Ian. No gum."

"Waaaah, freakin' waaaah."

"...this time of year. Pumpkins and squash..."

"I can't find it Mom. It's not here!" Huff and puff and fold arms on your chest.

"Here, let me look."

"... easy, but I made it work. The laundry, oh..."

Found it! Ha! I always know where this stuff is. Nobody can mess with my diaper bag. It's my lifeline to a world beyond my kids. If I can just get them through this stage I'll be free to go and do big girl things. I don't know if I can get through Produce Lady's ramblings though! She's still yaking! Doesn't she see that I'm not listening? I've turned my back on her to dig through the diaper bag and sanitized my 9 month old's hands and picked a half dozen pears and she's still going. Man, I should squirt some sanitizer in her mouth. Maybe that would shut her up.

"... well, enjoy it! This stage goes so quickly."

"Yes it does, doesn't it?" Not quick enough some days, I mutter under my breath.

"Who was that, Mom?" Inquisiting minds want to know.

"I don't know Shaun."

"She had a lot to say, didn't she?"

I glance over my shoulder. Produce lady is rooting through the kiwifruit. "Yes, she did Shaun. She was very friendly, huh?"

"No Tie-yo! Dat's Ian's toat. Yeave hands over dere."

"Waaaah! Wimper. Snuffle."

I grab Ian's coat from Kyle's grasp and throw it under the cart.

"No Mom! Want toat. Waaaah, scream, cry!!!" Well, at least he's past wanting gum now.

Wheels

I have a two-wheeled bike rider! In no time he's progressed from wobbly riding on the grass and crashing into fences to riding smooth and straight on a road. He even rode to school today with Craig. This video was taken this morning when he called for me to come outside and watch him on the road. It is the very first time I had seen him anywhere but on the grass and also the first time I saw him get started on his own. It may seem simple but I'm so stinkin' proud!

Major Accomplishments

I have to update quickly while everyone is eating dinner. First, Shaun's doing great at school. He's happy and excited to go. There will be a class shuffle next week likely but he's okay with that and is happy he'll be back with a lot of friends from last year once he switches. Second, out of the blue he learned how to pump a swing this week. He's been terrified of swings for years. I think something happened to scare him when he was much younger and until spring of this year, he's flatly refused to even sit on one. He'd ride it on his tummy, yes, but never on his bum. And if he was sitting on a swing on his bum and you were to walk behind him, he would be so worried you'd push him he'd quickly turn around or get off. Anyway, we stopped at the park on the way home from school yesterday and while I was pushing the little kids on the swing he climbed on his own. When I offered to push him he said, "no, I can do it." And he did! From a dead stop to really swinging... all on his own. I couldn't believe it and I couldn't stop smiling for at least half an hour!

Mostly I wanted to say that he can ride a 2-wheeler! Finally!!! We bought him a new bike last Christmas and he and I went out on Easter Monday so I could teach him to ride it. We went to an empty parking lot with a slight incline in it. Shaun did great until he toppled and then it was all over. He was shaken and discouraged. We've tried here and there since then and each time he's all gung-ho to try but as soon as he so much as wobbles he gives up and usually leaves his bike in the middle of the sidewalk a few houses down from ours. Yesterday he was watching a kids' show where a little boy was learning to ride a bike in real life on some grass. That put an idea into Shaun's head that maybe that is the way to learn. Contrary to everything my Dad told me growing up about teaching a kid to ride a bike on a hill so that they have momentum, I agreed with Shaun and we tried today in the backyard. Not only was he able to do it on the first try, he actually TURNED AROUND AND CAME BACK TO ME.

Call it a fluke, or that trying on the grass the first time is a good idea, or maybe it was the reassurance the grass provided that if he fell he wouldn't get hurt; which was just the boost of confidence he needed to get his feet on those pedals and go. He hasn't been on the sidewalk yet but after watching him in the backyard I think I'll have to get on my bike tomorrow so we can go for a ride!

Senior Kindergarten

Much to my surprise, Shaun was actually excited for his first day of Senior Kindergarten today. He still goes in the afternoon from 12:40 to 3:10 every day but this year he's started with a different teacher than the one he had last year. Reason being because the school hasn't been given the official OK from the school board to add another class so all the children that would be in the new class are now spread out among the other three classes. Each class can have a maximum of 19 children in it and Shaun's class today had 20. His teacher told us that it's pretty much 99% that there will be another class formed, in which case he'll move to the teacher he had last year, who has already been noted in all the paperwork we received today as having 2 classes. Other children whose Mom's I spoke to today have been told their children will be in the new afternoon class once it forms. I don't understand all the red tape but as long as Shaun heads back to the teacher and classmates he's familiar with, it's no biggie.

Do you think he was excited to head out today?!

Mad Gab

"Meh-toe Pay-toe Mace"

Ian said this to me today. It took about 8 repetitions and finally him bringing the object to me for me to actually get what he was saying.

Give up? For whatever reason... Actually, no, I know the reason. Because he's a dorky, goofy kid, Ian has decided that Mr. Potato Head is now Mr. Potato Face. And he laughs and laughs whenever he says it because he knows it's SILLY!

I don't think I would have guessed what he was saying had he not brought me the poor potato dude.

Be OK

Once I had the Bigs in bed tonight, I sunk into the rocking chair in Kyle's room to nurse him. It was a rough day today. Actually, it's been a rough go for the last several days.

Shaun's excited about Senior Kindergarden and unbelievably anxious at the same time. He switches from jumping up and down flapping his arms and hands, to wimpering and whining about having to go back. Ian has been screaming an awful lot and it's at such a decible, it makes my ears ring. Kyle is teething, he's decided he doesn't need his third nap anymore which has increased the Witching Hour from 2 hours to 3, and he's determined to figure out how to switch from sitting on his bum to laying on his tummy without face-planting every. single. time.

It's hard being on my own at the end of the day. Dinner time is the worst and it's even more difficult because everyone is tired and hungry and needing something all at the same time, and it's only me who can help them. Often I end up foregoing dinner for myself alltogether and eating once everyone is in bed and quiet and I can enjoy a warm meal with no interruptions. Most days I'm on a 2 1/2 hour countdown from 5PM. Dinner, dishes, baths, jammies, stories, bed. It can't go quick enough.

Tonight I could hear Shaun chatting to himself about the Spiderman jammies he's wearing tonight; planning his next move on Venom. Ian was quietly humming to himself and rustling his fresh sheets as he snuggled in for a long nap. Kyle's eyes were rolling back into his head and I listened to the sound of his bare feet stroking the arm of the rocking chair. As the rush of milk came, all the sounds of the house ceased except for the occasional swallow from the baby at my breast. At that moment I realized something -- It won't always be so easy to make everything okay. All my boys need is right here. Our house could burn down tomorrow, the van could be stolen and we could have a negative balance in our bank account, but my boys are happy and safe - that's all that truly matters.

Turning a Leaf in More Ways Than One

After the disaster I found myself in last Friday, I really and truly wanted to hide in my backyard for the rest of the fall until winter, when I could just wear a hat to cover the mess my hair had become. I desperately called around on Friday night trying to find someone who could fix my hair on short notice without success. Saturday was more of the same.

Craig and I had to get some school shopping done for Shaun, though, so we headed off to the mall on Saturday morning. I was tempted to walk into a salon in the mall and beg to have someone help me but I soon realized that there's so little length to play with and I run the risk of STILL not being happy with the new 'fixed cut'. So I hung my head as we walked around, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, fearing they'd know me and comment on my hair.

When we got home, I washed my hair and decided I had to make the best of a BAD, BAD situation.

After an hour playing around with different styles, some gel, hairspray, and wax...Voila. It's still not the look I was going for originally but at least I don't feel the need to walk around with a paper bag on my head until it grows in.

Tinkerbell

I took a leap today. A completely spontaneous one. One that I told myself I was absolutely NOT going to do. At least not until I had stewed over it for a while. And certainly not in the location it ended up being.

Now I can't go back. And I hate it. The only positive thing: hair grows back.

Craig's step-mom is a hairstylist. Perk, right? Usually it would be. I've been thinking about a 'pixie' cut for a while (by while, I mean a couple of days) but knew I didn't want to go to her for the cut. You see, I only get my hair cut once a year - if that - because I never like the way it's cut. Too floofy at the ends, too long, uneven length, bangs too short, too many layers; I wish she would just do what I tell her to do and leave the rest the heck alone. I went this morning for a trim. Long story short, I got my hair chopped. And it's not a pixie cut like I wanted. I want to crawl into a hole for the next 8 months until it grows back.

I'll post a picture when I'm feeling a bit better about it. And once I pay a real stylist to fix this disaster that is my head.

Under Roo

I'm soooo proud of my little Beanie-Butt. Two days in a row he's come running to me saying he has to poo in the potty. We've had him in undies since the end of July and he's done remarkably with pee; it's been poo that's been a struggle. For the last 2 weeks he's caught himself at the beginning and I've managed to get him on the potty in time to finish but he's been having trouble recognizing how his body feels before anything comes out. Needless to say, the laundry sink has been getting quite the workout and I'm not regretting having 29 undies for him (yes, 29). But with this newest milestone of knowing when he's beginning to feel like he has to poo, we could be in the home stretch. Only just turned 2 and already wearin' the under-roos like he's been doin' it his whole life!

New Age

I'm so far behind. I don't even have time to put away laundry - we've just been taking clean stuff from the baskets and throwing that on in the mornings - so I certainly don't have time to be blogging. I never realized how much I use the computer on a daily basis until it was gone.

I find inspiration for recipes on here (did you know that Kraft Canada has a terrific website full of gnarly-good stuff?), do all our banking, find curriculum ideas on weekly themes for the childcare business I have; so much that I was actually kind of lost for the 8 days we didn't have the computer. I must say, though, the house sure was clean! And all the laundry was washed, folded and put away! I've wondered lately how women 100 years ago had so many kids, kept their houses pristine, had dinner on the table every night, and worked in the fields... they didn't have a computer! Well, that, and they lived in a much different time where weekly playdates weren't organized off-site with other Mums, full-time secular employment was unheard of, and most families had at least one older child who helped look after the young ones when Mum was busy.

Okay, now that I've gone on about pretty much nothing, I will get to the task at hand. We had some family photos taken about a month ago now (it took a couple of weeks to get the CD from the photographer and then the computer died...) and I've been itching to share some with you all. (Should that be y'all?)

Unfortunately the photographer wasn't able to get any of just Kyle by himself because he was busy stuffing his face with my breast. The whole photo session lasted a couple of hours because it included Craig's parents and his 2 sisters with their families. By the time our family was done, Kyle was frantic to eat so I snuck away to the van and fed him in there. In this case, a bottle would have been far more convenient.

Computers Suck

Since we were without a computer, I couldn't check anyone's comments on my last post. Foolishly, we decided to fix the Motherboard on this beast (it's actually not a beast; we only bought it not even 2 years ago but no warranty anymore :( ) and now everything is gone. If I had known we'd start from scratch with everything, we would have just went ahead and bought a new tower. We still have Windows but it's still Vista which is what we were running before - a new computer would have come with Windows 7; one of the hard drives isn't working AT ALL and it's the one with ALL my photos from when Ian was 4 months old until now, plus thousands of downloaded songs; there's no way we will ever be able to get that back unless we pay big bucks and go to a data recovery place. Thank everything holy that I regularly develop all our photos into hard copy and place them into albums so we're only missing some from early this summer, perhaps 20. Every single program and toolbar and whatever we had installed since we bought the computer is gone. Gone. Gone.

I have half a mind to say to hell with it all and go out and buy a Mac because this shit sucks.

Crossroads

We're without a computer. This explains the absense of late. We're not sure whether we'll just buy a new tower and processor or if we'll fix the old one. It'll be hundreds of dollars no matter which way we go, the only difference being whether we want to spend $300 or $500. What would you do?

Two

Dear Beanie,

I don't really know where to begin or how to put words to how I'm feeling. You turned 2 today. Two years ago today Daddy and I welcomed your slippery little self right in the very same room where you were first created. Your impatientness has never gone away, nor has your insistence to do things your own way, even if it's the hard way.

I joke with people that you're a shopping list of trouble; always getting into one thing or another, trying to help the grown-ups do big people stuff. Like the time you wanted to remove a toy motorcycle from its base so you dug through the junk drawer for a screwdriver and removed the screw all by yourself because you didn't want to wait for me to help you.

You still have a stubborn faux-hawk perched on the top of your head even though we've trimmed it and even buzzed your hair right down to the scalp.

You drag around your bankie, Meme, everywhere and announce to everyone he is, "My Meme!" Meme has been washed and sprayed and bleached. He's joined you in the sandbox, on the swings, in pillow forts and quiet cupboard hideouts. He's been known to wipe sticky peanut butter fingers and mop juice spills off the floor. He is your best friend but his tag is your favourite. In the beginning Meme had a tag that you would diligently pull to straighten before rubbing it gently on your nose. As the months passed, Meme's tag wound itself more tightly until one day you couldn't straighten it anymore. So you jammed the twisted end of Meme's tag up your nose. Now, while Meme is still precious, Meme's tag is what comforts you in your saddest moments.

You love to run and I love to watch your short little legs trotting so quickly from one room to the next.

When you smile your goofy smile and crinkle your nose, sigh, I just have to smile, too. You've learned it's a surefire way to get out of trouble.

I love how you're always the first one up in the morning and you quietly sneak into our room and grunt and huff and puff when trying to climb into our bed. And when you finally make it you squirm in between Daddy and I and pull the covers up over your head so we won't know you're there.

You say "mo-dee-dee" for motorcycle, and "hah-too-too" for helecopter. Shaun is Non-Non and Kyle is Tie-yo. I always giggle when you say you're going to Grampa and Grampa's house. Then when Shaun corrects you, you get so mad because, to you, you're saying it correctly.

You love getting tickled. If my hand brushes by your leg or arm, you'll pull up your shirt and say, "more tickles please, right here," pointing to your belly. I'll gently stroke your soft toddler skin, passing over the bruises on your legs from your latest adventures.

I love that you love oatmeal. And apples. And salad. And pizza. A boy after my own stomach.

I love listening to you after I've tucked you in as you sing to yourself and mumble rhymes that we chant and repeat to one another all day long. "...this little piggy had beef, one step, two steps, all the way home."

I love that writing this, thinking of you sleeping in your bed right now with your bum way up in the air and Meme wrapped around your neck, makes me cry. And not just little weeny tears. I'm crying big fat I Love You tears. The kind of tears I only reserve for My Boys. I know you were picked for us for a reason. To help me stop and remember why this job, being a Mum, is so wonderful.

You are my Beanie Butt. I love you so much my head spins. Thank you for choosing me to be your Mumma.

Can I Get a "Yes, Please!"

It started as a financial thing, this whole makin' of the baby food, and has morphed into something much more fulfilling and satisfying.

The only thing Shaun ever ate as baby food that was out of a jar was some sort of wierd risotto concoction when we were camping the summer he turned 1. He hated it and I never bought a single jarred food after that.

Ian is a bit of a crunchy granola-type kid. He was born at home, has never tasted a jarred baby food, and prefers to walk around wearing nothing all day long. He's quite the sight running down the sidewalk chasing Shaun!

I was worried that I would have trouble finding time to make food for Kyle and I'll be the first to admit that he doesn't have nearly as much variety as the other boys had simply because of the time of year. Shaun and Ian had all kinds of wonderful fall squash and pumpkins, fresh applesauce made from apples we picked together that same day, beets and parsnips pureed together in a pretty pink mash. I finally sucked it up about a month ago and spent a few hours on a Saturday making baby food. Then I went to the library and grabbed First Meals for more of my favourite recipes I used for Ian.

Today Kyle was introduced to fish but not just plain fish. He enjoyed fresh tilapia fillets poached in orange juice with a sprinkling of cheddar cheese, pureed with steamed carrots and sweet potatoes. His expression said, "hell yeah!" so I tasted it and considered forfeiting my BBQ Italian sausage with mashed sweet potatoes and mesclun salad for some of Kyle's lunch; it was THAT good. Kid eats better than me and he doesn't even have any teeth! Well, one. But it's a stump still.

Old Habits Die Hard

As a kid, my parents - my Mum, mostly - would tell me things. You know, typical parent stuff like, "if you keep crossing your eyes they're going to stay like that," and, "one day you'll run out of breath so you'd better stop talking." Most of it I never really believed and realized it was just a bunch of nonsense but some I actually believed and have kept with me until recently. Seriously.

I'm 29 years old for goodness sake and only this summer have I really began to think critically about some of the ridiculous things my Mum told me when I was a kid. For example, she insisted to me that I only use conditioner on the ends of my hair because otherwise, the roots would never be clean and my hair would be perpetually greasy. I only ever used conditioner on the ends of my hair until we had some family photos taken a couple of weeks ago. In preparation for the photos I decided to take a risk and condition all my hair *gasp* since it would need the extra moisture from blowdrying anyway. Amazingly, my hair looks healthy and shiny and isn't at all greasy.

The other thing she always told me was about my bras. I have a relatively large chest; even bigger when I'm breastfeeding or pregnant. So does she. She insisted to me that I wear bras that have absolutely no padding in them so as not to make my chest size any larger than it already was. I've been frustrated my whole life with sagging boobs and bras that don't fit quite right. My epiphany moment was while talking to a friend who also has big breasts. She told me that bras without padding are the worst for her because she just stretches them out within a dozen uses. The padded ones hold their shape much better and offer her far more support without creating a uni-boob. My Mum would just die knowing I wear padded bras... well, I will when the boob juice stops flowing.

Another strange myth that sticks in my mind is about makeup. I don't wear makeup but not because I never wanted to. When I was a teen I suffered from acne - like any teen - and went on birth control pills to help control it. At the time my doctor advised me to not use foundation or powder because it could clog my pores and cause irritation. My Mum convinced me that makeup of any kind would damage my skin. Eyeliner, mascara, blush; anything expect for oil-free moisturizer and suncreen had to be completely avoided. I believed her and so, never learned to use any of that stuff. Now I'm closing in on 30 and not only is the cosmetic aisle at the pharmacy overwhelming, I've never even worn foundation a single day in my life. Well, maybe that's a lie. I wore it for my wedding but that was thanks to my mother-in-law who did it for me. I'm positive my face will not break out into wild, angry zits the moment I put on any form of makeup.

There's so many other wierd things my Mum told me would happen that only now I am realizing were literally 'old wives' tales'. She was a country gal and maybe she learned all these things from her Mum. Wherever they came from, I can't believe I have 3 kids of my own and am only starting to think critically about these wild ideas.

Ch Ch Ch Changes

Wow. Where to begin. As usual I have absolutely no time to be sitting here typing away and even less to upload the hundreds of photos from my camera onto the computer so I can share some of what we've been doing.

Three weeks and 20 hours after we started, we finally finished stripping the garage door in preparation for painting it. It was starting to crack with an aligator-type scaling pattern and I knew if we just painted over it, it would happen over and over again. I borrowed a heat stripper from a neighbour 2 doors down and worked for about an hour a day during nap time or after the kids went to bed. Craig worked, too, and we were able to finish it on Monday this week. Then today I repainted the whole thing. It looks so much better than it did and I'm so proud that we were able to start something so tedious and completely finish it.

Now that I have the painting bug I went out and bought more paint for the front door and the exterior trim and pillar. The front door had this one spot that was bubbled and split, exposing the galvanized metal underneath; plus it was the same colour as the garage which I know is a decorating No-No (ahh, what do I know, it was my Mum who told me that). So this afternoon I sanded the front door and washed it all down before painting it black. Yep, black. I've always wanted a black front door. I remember one house in the neighbourhood where I grew up had a black front door. I walked past that house every single day on the way to and from school from age 7 to 19 and promised myself that, one day, I'd have a black front door, too. Our house will be the envy of all the teenie-boppers who walk past on their way to the junior highschool down the street.

We went to Craig's uncle's cottage last weekend with Craig's parents and sisters, along with their families. It was generally uneventful aside from being put to work by Craig's uncle. It seems whenever we go up there we're assigned whatever job he's chosen for us. In the past it's been laying stone for the massive driveway, running pipe for in-ground sprinklers, laying sod, weeding the endless planting beds; this time it was putting down interlocking bricks on the staircase that winds down the side of the ridge to get to the beach. It was hard, heavy, dirty work and everyone worked like dogs. I appreciate that we're given the opportunity to stay at the cottage without charge but it feels like he's using us as free labor. I think I'd rather go to my family's cottage - which is far more humble than Craig's uncle's - and actually relax instead of favoring my sore hamstrings for 4 days.

The biggest news of all: Ian's potty trained! We started last week on Monday by taking away diapers during the day completely. There were a lot of pee accidents those first couple of days but he slowly learned to hold his pee for longer periods of time and by the time we drove to the cottage on Friday, Ian was holding his pee for over an hour. We stopped once on the 2 hour drive for him to pee and he remained dry through the whole weekend expect from one pee in his undies when he didn't quite make it to the potty on time. He's also been using the potty on his own a few times (so far it's nearly always us reminding him it's time to go). Pretty exciting stuff for a little guy who isn't quite even 2 years old yet. I'm so proud of him.

The most interesting thing is watching how much he's adapted to wearing underwear. Early last week he'd walk to the diaper basket in the playroom and pull one out and ask for it.

"Diaper on, Mumma, please. Right now."

It was hard to say no when he'd ask so nicely. He'd lay down on the carpet when I'd change Kyle's bum and ask for a diaper too. I've never seen him lay so still for a diaper change... ever. But we never gave in and Ian stayed in underwear during the day. Through pee accidents and poop explosions we consistenly wiped his bum and dug another pair of underwear out of the basket. Yesterday he got really mad when bedtime came and I tried to put a diaper on him.

"No diaper, Mumma! Unnies, these ones," as he pointed to a new pair of blue underwear plastered with little green tree frogs. I had to put the underwear over his diaper go get him to agree to wear it. He's still not able to stay dry through the night but staying dry all day has been a big step. Soon. Nighttime will come soon.

Pockets and Smells

Ian has discovered that things have pockets. He searches for them in purses and diaper bags; digs through coats and sweaters; comments on strangers' pockets. Too many times I've heard a distant rattle coming from the laundry room only to discover upon opening the washing machine that a handful of stones has found its way out of his pockets and into the drum. I've also found half chewed granola bars, sucked-on mints from restaurants, dandelion flowers, dinky cars, Lego pieces, Crayola marker lids, stickers; you name it, it's been in Ian's pockets. Pockets are such an attraction these days that he refuses to wear anything that doesn't have them but will quickly agree to get dressed if you throw pockets into the equation. "Ian, it's time to put your clothes on. Guess what? Your shorts have... POCKETS!" And he'll come running.

Kyle continues to charm me. Maybe I've learned to enjoy my time with him now because in a way I feel like I missed out on a lot because of the PPD. Or maybe it's because deep down I know that he's going to be way too big way too fast - after I get through the next 7 years of NOs, WHYs, and BUTs. Perhaps since he's the very last one I want to savour every single moment and breathe in all his baby scent so maybe I'll be able to call upon the soothing smell when I'm old and mad that he's out past curfew. There's something about baby smell that just calms my soul. It's not even the bubbly water he soaks in for his bath, or the cream I lather into his chubby creases; he just has this smell. When he opens his mouth and his tongue passes by my nose, it leaves a wet spot that smells as sweet and clean as anything I could imagine. If I could bottle that scent I'd be a billionaire. Because everyone wants to be able to call upon pure, virgin, baby smell when they need it most: when life gets too hectic and we need a reminder of why we started on this journey so long ago. It's perfect.

Rabbit Lunch

Today at lunch Ian was chatting away as he always does about cats milling around under his highchair waiting for something to drop, the city bus driving past our house, the fly buzzing on the window; then he said, "Look! Yellow rabbit." Hmm. Perhaps there was a rabbit in the backyard. I asked him where and he answered, "right here," and pointed to his plate of noodles in front of him.

Indeed, there's a yellow rabbit. Complete with a pepper grind eyeball. Is he freaking brilliant or what?




Here's the original so you can see what he saw:

Humor

Shaun: Ian, do you want to smell my bum? *erupts into uncontrollable giggles*

Ian: *walks over to Shaun, bends down, smells Shaun's bum*

Shaun: *giggling so hard he can barely get the words out* Ian, I just farted and farts are made from poo. You smelled my poo!

Ian: *runs crying to me* Mumma, Non-non 'mell! Noooooo!

Free Collectible

A talkative, smart, almost-five year old is free to a non-smoking home for a short-term arrangement.

He keeps his room neat and always places his dirty clothes in the laundry hamper. He loves Lego and playing out scenes as a pirate or a knight. He also has a fascination with snakes and dinosaurs but is terrified of blood of any kind: real or fake; his or someone else's. Fruits and most vegetables are a sure winner with him, whereas meat is hit and miss, and grains are a big 'nope'. Outside activities he enjoys include road hockey, golf, making bows and arrows, and building things in the sandbox with leaves and sticks. You'd be able to sleep in every day with him around because he's in bed before 8PM, doesn't wake up through the night, and sleeps at least 12 solid hours.

The potential family must be able to listen to him talk non-stop from morning until night; through mealtime, while on the toilet, while brushing teeth, during story time, when the radio is on... non stop. They also must be prepared to have their world revolve around him, as he constantly interrupts and insists on being THE center of attention at all times. He gets along really well with younger siblings but only while he's in charge.

Duration of the visit would depend on how much I miss him and how much I am longing for his return. Delivery can be arranged for a small charge. Clothing and his favourite toys will be included but will need to be returned with him.

I love him to death; he's my firstborn. I need some time to be reminded of WHY I love him. Having a few days without him would be beneficial.

This super deal won't last long. Contact me soon! ;)

Six Months - Part Deux

I felt the need to commemorate Kyle's 6 month birthday but didn't have the time to actually say anything until now. And I think my attempt at doing something artistic with his first sitting-up photo is pitiful. Oh well. I can't be perfect at everything!

So, yes, Kyle's 6 months old and I'm six months away from being completely free from breastfeeding, pregnancy, hormones, labor, baby books, choosing a name, baby food, diapers... well, not diapers but that will come soon enough! I am done having children. Never have I felt it as strongly as I do at this moment. I have no doubt that 3 is the perfect number for me. It's been partially imposed on me since Craig has made sure to tell me that he will not be making any more babies, but also I know in my deepest thoughts that there are no more babies. And I'm okay with that. No, I'm great with that.

I had a brief - what shall we call it - waver, I guess, back when I was around 6 months pregnant with Kyle. Craig had always said that we could have as many kids as I wanted as long as we could financially support all of them. In my head I was thinking 5 but was only brave enough to chuckle about having 4 in front of him. I had all these schemes up my sleeve on how we were going to pay for this or that because I truly believed I was meant to be a mum to a brood of children. We were blessed with the ability to have children and have them turn out healthy (well, Ian's a complete nutball but that's for another post!) so who are we to decide when enough is enough. We are responsible parents, that's who. I'm positive we'd be able to continue to be financially secure with another child in the house, heck, another 2, even. But we'd be strapped and the kids would eat a lot of oatmeal and ham sandwiches and pasta. We'd never be able to do half of the things we've promised ourselves we will do with our kids and we certainly don't want to live like that. Three is a perfect number.

Do you know how I know? Well, I'll tell ya. I know because putting away the baby stuff as Kyle outgrows it doesn't make me sad. I'm washing it and removing all the stains just like I'd be using it on another baby, and folding it carefully before placing it into the bin, but then the bin is making its way to another family and all I can do is think about how cute their little guy will be in all those outfits. I'm taking pictures of the crib all put together because it'll be sold when Kyle's done using it. When something is put away I make sure the instructions are with it and package it all neatly so the eventual garage sale goes off without a hitch. Every milestone that Kyle reaches is really and truly the very last time I will see one of my babies do that for the first time, and that makes me happy. I have so many other milestones to look forward to that I can't even begin to feel sad about what I'm leaving behind.

It's like people hoarding things in their house because of the memories attached to them. The stuffed pig from the carnival that your dead uncle won for you playing Wack-A-Mole is not your uncle. The memory of your uncle will not disappear when the stuffed pig is gone. Same with the crib, the Moses Basket (oh, how I love that basket), the tiny newborn slippers, the Nuk soothers, the basket of washclothes beside the rocking chair to wipe spit up from nighttime feeds; it's all memories but it's also all stuff.

I feel lighter already having put away the playpen from the living room. Kyle's sturdy enough to sit without toppling now and the rest of the family has gotten quite used to him being around so there's not much risk of him being trampled. Not as much as when he was a newborn and Ian had only been walking for 3 months, anyway. The playpen, while it was great to use as a change station, it ended up collecting a lot of things that didn't belong in there once Kyle didn't nap in it anymore.

Back when I was still in high school I remember this radio program where they'd challenge a caller to find a secret item in their junk drawer. The item would be revealed on air while the caller was on hold and then they had to name off everything in their junk drawer within a time limit to win a prize. I have a junk drawer, believe it or not, and it's chockablock full of junk. So full that the playpen became my second junk drawer for things that were too big to fit in the official one. I would kick ass at that game if it were still on the air.

Hmm, funny, I started this post with all these thoughts in my head of how to update it for Kyle's semi-annual and I've succeeded at doing everything but.


He went for his shots and check up this morning:
Weight - a hefty 18 pounds, 14 ounces
Height - 27 1/2 inches long (tall?)

In comparison, Shaun was 1 and a half pounds lighter and Ian was 2 pounds lighter at the same age. Kyle's the size the other two were at 9 months old. The other two are beanpoles so it's going to interesting to see what happens to Kyle as he grows and becomes more active. I think he's going to have a Martin face but Jambor body structure, whereas Shaun and Ian look moreso like me and are lanky like Craig was as a kid. I tease Craig that he was skinny because he was malnourished and ate strawberry milkshakes (milk with a big scoop of strawberry jam stirred in) and raw hotdogs every day of the week.

Six Months

Troll

I think Shaun's trying to be a fierce knight here, given the knight's tunic he's wearing and the sword he's wielding. But I think he looks like a grumpy old troll!

My Happy Place

It's late and I should be in bed because morning comes too soon around here these days. But I've been thinking. A lot. Thinking about where I am in my life and about all the things around me that have made me who I am. All the people that have come and gone who have left memories in my head. And places where I can close my eyes and imagine I am. Happy places.

The cottage.

One of my earliest memories is of the cottage. Summer meant weeks on end spent there. The musty smell when we'd open the front door, the sound of the curtains as they'd open and let the sunlight flood in, the sand in the beds, the sweltering attic that was always packed full of stacked old mattresses. I'd clambor up onto that stack and then launch myself off onto a pile of pillows I had dragged up from the living room.

As night would come the grown-ups would sit on the veranda with sweaty highballs and talk with hushed voices, while us kids would giggle and steal pink pistachios from the bowl on the kitchen table. We never figured out how our parents always knew we'd been stealing pistachios. Now I see my boys' pink fingertips. When one of the parents would stand to come inside I'd stiffen my body and press my eyes closed; holding my breath afraid to breathe in case they realized I was still awake. I know they must have heard us.

Outside there's this chair on the veranda. Painted so many times the screw heads have all but disappeared. Soft cushions cover the seat and back. When I sit in it I am just the perfect height to watch the water for hours over the railing and not have to move. As a kid I would bring my cross stitch projects to that chair. It has arms that are perfectly wide enough to balance a can of Coke on. There's a rug on the porch that is worn almost through in places. The fringe has been matted and tangled from the decades of families wiping their feet.

Inside, the walls are paneled with nails poking out of them where pictures once hung. Mirrors grace every wall and remind me that I haven't brushed my hair yet today and that I'm still in my pyjamas as the clock ticks toward noon. In one corner the wood stove sits idle, waiting for fall when we'll fill it up with logs to warm our frozen hands. A vase of white silk flowers stand erect on the kitchen table that is covered by an old bedspread with a jungle theme and tigers. My boys love the tiger tablecloth. I could show you all the old stains on it from when I was a little girl and my pink popsicle dribbled down my hand and soaked into the tiger's paw.

It's not a new cottage or an elegant, luxurious cottage. It stands on stilts that are slowly sinking into the earth, tilting the floors and forcing door jambs out of square. But this cottage that smells funny and is host to any number of creatures is also my happy place. Driving down the road that leads to the cottage, suddenly I feel lighter and breathe easier. My stress is gone. No longer do I think about laundry, email, or vegetables for dinner. No telephones ring because there aren't any. The television with rabbit ear antennae stays tucked against the wall. We can't find the remote and no one cares. There's no need to watch TV.

I share my happy place with my boys. Today on the way home Shaun was crying because he wanted to stay at the cottage forever. He has a happy place, too.