Category: Kids
Saturday, Jan 28, 2012 | Kids, Mothering, Writing |
… “m” for Marita!
This was easy and fun. I’m tempted to do it again. I really like giving things away. (Would you come back and enter your names all over again for a second round?)
:::
AppleApple picked the name out of the basket because she and I had scheduled writing time together this morning. I wanted her help on The Big Fat Juicy Belly Worm story. She’s got lots of top secret information about the BFJBW. So we found a pinch of time on Saturday morning, squeezed in between starting bread dough (me) and soccer game (her). She looked forward to it all week–and so did I. Except it wasn’t as fun as we’d anticipated. Writing isn’t really fun, exactly. There’s a lot of erasing and starting all over again. Most ideas get chucked. Information has to be spun into plot. I’m afraid she found it all very tedious. I’m also afraid I’m very abrupt and business-like when writing, even when the subject is a fun children’s story. And we didn’t even finish the chapter.
Maybe I’m just not good at sharing?
Wednesday, Jan 11, 2012 | Kids, Parenting, Soccer |
I was hoping for the best yesterday. Good to stay optimistic. Also good to set expectations LOW to MIDDLING. Yesterday, swim lessons began again, plus soccer, plus more soccer. The unpromising start to swim lessons included bringing the wrong bathing suit for Fooey (much much too large–her sister’s, in fact), and CJ declaring he would NEVER duck his head under the water. (“Just tell the teacher no thank you,” I advised. “But the teacher ALWAYS wants me to.” “I get that. Just tell her no thank you, not today.” “NOT EVER!”) This led to full meltdown on the pool deck. Somehow, two kind lifeguards hauled him off me and got him into the pool. “Go! Give us five minutes!” By the time I got up to the seating area, he was fine. So fine, you’d never have guessed he’d recently been in full mutiny. We ended this fine opening swim session by losing one child’s underpants. Found later in her pocket to everyone’s amusement.
Remember how I’d planned to read to the little kids during AppleApple’s soccer time? Turned out it was in a school gym, with loud music pumping–more of an aerobic workout than a soccer practice. The girls had a blast, including Fooey. Meanwhile, ever-jolly CJ made me cover his ears basically the entire time. We couldn’t read anyway. Too loud. This is not a problem easily solved. No brilliant brainwaves came to mind as I contemplated another ten weekly sessions in this gym, staring at the little Canadian flag pinned to the wall, watching a bunch of lively girls leaping joyfully, whilst trying to remain compassionate toward a constantly-complaining three-year-old. Nope, not seeing the bright side.
At the end of that, we drove across town to pick up Albus and Kevin, who were at a different indoor field for their soccer practice (one-car family, remember?). CJ spent the opening minutes lying on the floor declaring life not worth living (to summarize), or at least not worth living given the lousy choice in snacks his mother had brought. Finally, I found a candy cane in my pocket. This proved to be “too spicy,” but worked as distraction. AppleApple got some playing time with the boys’ team; we all went in to watch. Fooey picked artifical grass. CJ complained about not having a ball to kick.
Basically, CJ is at a stage/age where he can effortlessly suck the fun out of just about any situation. For example, grocery store this afternoon. CJ in full tantrum seated in the cart wailing over and over the touching phrase: “Multi-coloured mini-marshmallows!” My skin must be elephant-thick by now, and thank heavens. Nothing draws the gaze of passersby like a screeching three-year-old kicking the sidewalk and declaring his lower legs–yes, the lower legs, to be specific–“too tired!” to go on. I’m not saying all gazes are critical. Some are closer to pitying, some to gratitude–thank God that’s not me. Which is admittedly how I feel now when I hear a tiny infant wailing from inside a baby carrier. I know the mother’s pain–how the baby is probably hungry and wants to nurse and she’s pulling a toddler by the hand and they just need to get this one final errand run, please, please, please just make it baby.
This too shall pass, in other words.
This too shall pass.
Saturday, Jan 7, 2012 | Kids, Parenting |
Ah, the dreaded Bedtime Snack. Arriving so soon after supper that I was often still elbow-deep in dishwater. Demands for variety, for a veritable menu of choices. Each child requesting something different. Spoons and bowls and crumbs and complaints. The growing suspicion that bedtime snack had become a more important meal, for some, than supper itself. Something had to give.
This was Kevin’s solution.
I didn’t post it immediately upon signing because I wanted to see whether or not it would stick. It didn’t entirely work over Christmas, what with the endless parade of eating and the crazy party hours we were keeping. But it’s been working pretty smoothly on more ordinary evenings.
Here is the full text:
BEDTIME SNACK AGREEMENT
This agreement is between “The Parents” and “The Kids”
Whereas, The parents agree to provide a substantial supper, NOTWITHSTANDING inedible suppers, the kids agree to receive a bedtime snack with no plate including but not limited to Apple slices and carrot sticks.
This agreement supercedes all previous agreements.
Signed at WATERLOO Dec. 21, 2011.
Aside from revealing my husband’s predeliction for random capitalization and punctuation (and the fact that I, his loving wife, will not let such things just pass by), the agreement highlights several important points: 1. no dirtying dishes post-supper 2. eat your supper 3. inedible means actually inedible not merely inedible in one person’s opinion.
For the past number of evenings, we’ve been snacking on apple slices and carrot sticks between episodes of Modern Family, which everyone in our house loves equally. Occasionally a cookie is thrown into the mix (no plate, ergo acceptable snack). We’ve even had several blissful evenings, post-supper, when all of the children have worked together with the parents to clear the table, help with the dishes, tidy the living-room and countertops, and vacuum–all in anticipation of the reward of sitting together as a family to watch Modern Family episodes.
We’ve never been a TV family, but there’s something so deeply pleasurable about sharing downtime together. We work together, then we get to hang out together. There’s a real connection to be made between effort and reward; and best of all, the work and responsibility is shared out, as in the snack agreement, not dumped on one or two in service to the rest. I don’t know whether this marks a lasting change–whether it will survive the return to routine and busyness–but let us hope so (or as Kevin might write let Us hope so). Because it’s been brilliant.
Friday, Jan 6, 2012 | Kids, Local Food, Parenting, Photos |
A sweet keeper is a squash (did you know that? extra points for you).
Here’s another sweet keeper.
Monday, Jan 2, 2012 | Exercise, Kids, Music, Parenting, Photos, Work, Writing |
Resolutions. Do you make them? We went around the table last night and everyone had the chance to make a resolution for 2012. Not all cared to participate, but here’s what we got:
**Albus resolved to finish his Perplexus game (at least it’s not a video game), and buy two new ones and finish those too. (Inspiring … sigh).
**AppleApple resolved to train for and complete a try-a-tri. Her dad wants to, too. We’ll check age limits, but try-a-tris are short-distance triathlons with lengths I’m certain she could manage.
**In addition to the try-a-tri, Kevin resolved to dance more. He intends to practice with help from a wii game we played on New Year’s Eve called Just Dance (we had a kid-oriented New Year’s; very fun). I’m not sure whether a wii game will make him a better dancer, but it is good exercise. (Fooey said, “The best part is that you don’t even have to have a wii remote–you can just dance!”)
“all the little grains of snow,” taken this morning, back porch
Today, I am pretending the holiday is over; Kevin is helping with that. Whenever the kids are off school or home sick, childcare coverage falls to me, and as I start both working more and wanting to take on more work the imbalance becomes more obvious. I’m thankful that Kevin came around to recognizing this himself, and offered, for this coming week, to share childcare and split the days. Today he’s off anyway, so I get the full day. Friday I’d already arranged for babysitting in the morning, so he gets the full day. We’re splitting the other days half and half. I’m already floating the idea of doing this for summer holidays too. Something’s got to change this year.
I don’t usually do resolutions because who knows what will come or how a year will change a person. But I love lists, and this is good place to start.
1. Share the childcare. Take on more work projects. Work more hours.
2. Explore work options. Take risks. Dabble. Whatever I do to fill my hours and earn money, may it be creative, and perhaps surprising.
3. Budget better. Needs no explanation. Kevin and I are already collaborating on this front.
4. Continue early mornings + exercise. On my race list this year (assuming no injuries): the 30km in Hamilton in March; another Olympic-length triathlon; another marathon; and maybe just maybe a half-Ironman triathlon. I’d also like to do another half and another 10km. But racing is expensive. See #3.
4b. (late addition) Stretch!!!! After all exercise. For at least five minutes.
5. Develop book ideas. Apply for grants. Write another book!
6. Promote THE JULIET STORIES.
7. Practice photography. Use my eyes. Use my feet. Find new locations and subjects.
8. Make music. Write songs. Record.
9. Do everything I can do to continue to be “a good model” for my children. Be forgiving. Be kind. Seek to understand. Love.
10. Go bravely forth.
“Desert in the snow,” taken this morning, back porch.
*note: to see photos in full please click on them
Friday, Dec 30, 2011 | Birthdays, Chores, Kids |
Yesterday was such a perfect day. First thing in the morning, my friend Nath delivered a birthday cake that was just like my Grandma King used to make for me when my family happened to be travelling on my birthday (and which I remember eating for breakfast before getting in the car for a long ride home): angel food with strawberry frosting.
The kids and Kevin gave me the whole day off. I went shopping, an annual event, and refreshed my wardrobe for the coming year. (And, no, I’m not exaggerating; it really is an annual event. Lucky me, my birthday falls during prime sales time). Add to the list of happy happenings: yoga, naptime, dinner out, and late-night vegging on the couch watching episodes of Modern Family (why so funny? can’t analyze it), and it was such a fine day.
When I came home from shopping, I found these messages on our chalkboard.
“Happy birthday Mom! why we love you.”
“I love everything about you mom, the way you look smell and act.” “I love how you’r a good role model to look up too. When I grow up I want to be just like you.”
“She plays piano.” “You are generous.” “I love how she does everything.” “She makes the best cookies.” “She makes the best food.” [this message brought to you by the fussiest of all my eaters!] “She gets lego for me.” “She cooks for us.” “You read bedtime stories.” “Because you are organized and kinda bossy.” [“Who wrote that one?” “Daddy!”]
When I was a kid, I was pretty sure my birthday fell at the wrong time of the year. Now I’m pretty sure it’s exactly right. Just when I’m collapsing into the post-Christmas/pre-New-Year’s slump, along comes my birthday to fill me right back up again.
Which is good, because today we return to our regularly scheduled programming.
