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.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
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!
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!
Thursday, November 18, 2010
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:
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:
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
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!
"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!
Monday, November 15, 2010
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!
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!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, November 8, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, November 5, 2010
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.
"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.
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