Category: Kids
Saturday, Dec 6, 2008 | Kids |
Want to capture this moment, right now. Snow falling. We are just home from the library where CJ climbed, crawled, and ripped books off shelves, and the children played on the computers, then got to check out books on their very own library cards–the first I’ve let them do that, not wanting to have extra books and cards to potentially lose; but hey, let’s live recklessly. The kids were beyond thrilled. Walking home, we pretended we were lost in a blizzard in the arctic. Cars were packs of wild wolves. Streets were ice-rivers. Buildings were icebergs. And our house was debatable … was it a tent? An igloo? A house we could buy made of stones? Or one for travelling strangers to shelter in on their way through? In any case, we moved in.
CJ had fallen asleep in the stroller and transferred to his crib despite the shrieks of delight over, “Look, Mama, these strange switches turn on lights!!” Then children sat quietly reading library books and doing mazes together. Peaceful. It’s already starting to fall apart, slightly. They have now moved to the counter and are eating a few snacktime cookies. Albus is about to head out on his second sleepover, ever. I will be putting the others to bed alone tonight, as Kevin is teaching this weekend–both days. That’s okay. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to a weekend alone, but in all honesty, I wasn’t dreading it either. I appreciate having a good excuse not the spend the weekend cooking, baking, cleaning, and doing laundry and other necessaries. Those necessaries will have to wait. Instead, the kids and I get to do projects together, or go on our adventures together.
Shoot, and now it’s totally fallen apart.
Hey, I’m back. As usual, everything happened all at once–children started fighting (over nothing particular as far as I could determine; maybe the sugar made them do it); Albus’s friend arrived to pick him up; CJ started fussing in the monitor. And now all is quiet again. Albus has departed (big boy! but I miss him). The girls are reading together on the couch. CJ stopped fussing and seems to have gone back to sleep. Phew.
Thursday, Dec 4, 2008 | Kids, Music, Politics |
Trying to write this afternoon. Not getting much accomplished. Can’t blame Stephen Harper for everything, can I?? I’m so thoroughly caught up in today’s news that instead of polishing metaphors in this story, I’m composing letters to members of parliament. This morning, Stephen Harper visited the Governor-General and asked for and received a prorogue, which means the operations of the House of Parliament are suspended for seven or eight weeks, at which point, the Conservatives will likely have to face a vote of confidence on the budget they say they’ll introduce at that time. In the meantime, they’re planning a full-on, well-financed publicity campaign, and lots of polling. (Haven’t heard a peep in that plan about reconciling with the opposition). Apparently, that’s how you get the pulse of the people: you poll them. Guess what–I’ve never once been polled; but I do vote. That’s how you actually go to the people. You hold an election.
Nobody wants one.
Brrr. It’s cold out there today, bits of snow falling, icy sidewalks, dim skies. CJ screamed all the way to school in the stroller. He plays strange, now, with adults who are not related to him. The pout and hesitation, the crumpled face and widened eyes, the whimper, the yowl and crocodile tears flowing picturesquely down his cheeks. As soon as he’s back in my arms again, he ceases crying, then quickly turns to check on that Other Person, to see whether they’re still there. Yup. Then back to Mommy, burying his head in my shoulder. Then checking again. He’s a tightly wound little fellow, all kicking legs and flinging limbs and excited energy. He’s going to need a lot of outdoor time as he grows. Sports. I love how he’s drawn to children about Fooey’s size. He approaches them quite differently than he does strange adults. I think it speaks well of his relationship with his big siblings. Fooey sang to him the whole way to school, to try to calm him down; and sometimes it seemed to be working. She loves to make up topical songs.
Maybe she can make up one for me with the word “prorogue” in it. A verse with, “Calm down, Mommy, and stop yelling at the radio,” would hit the spot too.
Thursday, Dec 4, 2008 | Kids, Politics |
Well, not much has changed. Parliamentary crisis, I mean. Just waiting. Stephen Harper was on TV tonight addressing the nation and sounding not one teeny tiny bit willing to change his tone to conciliation. He probably thinks he IS being conciliatory, for heaven’s sake. Stephane Dion had his usual trouble with English, but I still like this guy. Cooperation over conflict. Listen, if someone’s willing to try that mode of operation, let’s go with that.
At our house, we like to strive for cooperation over conflict. I get that it’s hard. I get that sometimes even three-year-olds cannot bring themselves to say those really powerful words: “I’m sorry.” I get that sometimes six-year-olds are “just so mad, I couldn’t help myself, Mommy!” I get that sometimes seven-year-olds “don’t know why” they did what they did. I get that these emotions belong to all of us, even as we grow older and attempt to grow wiser. Sometimes sorry really sticks in my throat, too. But you’ll never even inch toward cooperation if you can’t take responsibility for at least part of the trouble you find yourself in. That’s been my mantra around the house these past two days: yes, I get that you’re upset with (fill in the blank) because it’s not fair … but let’s think a little harder here. (I am now thinking of a specific incident, walking to school, and having to share the sidewalk with a lot more snow, and therefore the kids plus stroller plus me are getting squeezed; Apple-Apple was infuriated because things had changed and she didn’t like it). Let’s find a plan that will work for everyone. It won’t be perfect. You might not get to do everything you want. But you have the power to make changes, even small ones, to better your lot. And hitting doesn’t count as power.
Babe’s awake. I’m outta here.
Sunday, Nov 30, 2008 | Kids |
Fooey in the car this afternoon (an announcement): “I’m going to watch Magic School Bus all by myself. I want some alone time. No one disturb me.”
It’s been a grey day, and it almost seemed that the sun didn’t shine. Dim light. Late November light. That closing in ahead of the winter solstice. Last night, Kevin and I went to a neighbourhood Christmas party and it was darn fun. I haven’t gotten dressed up for well over a year, and had to plunder the attic in search of party-ish clothes (not that I needed to wear them; it was all a matter of wanting to). I wore a black Lida Baday strapless top with this shruggish sleeves-only sweater (no idea what it really should be called), bought in Toronto almost a decade ago. My one and only designer purchase, ever. I still remember going into the store on the Danforth near where we lived at the time and laying out a fair wad of cash for that overall outfit, which included a balloony ballgown-type skirt that didn’t seem right for last night’s bash; I went with an old lined wool black-and-white checked skirt.
It was definitely a rush to apply makeup (approximately a once-yearly event), fluff hair, adorn self. Mostly, I love my mama-self disguise–that’s not the right word, though. It’s not a disguise, it’s a true emanation of myself, the jeans and turtlenecks and zip-up sweaters and frumpy winter hat and last-year’s-maternity coat and rarely brushed hair and rushing out the door without even a glance into a mirror. Mostly, that’ s a very satisfying me to live within. But this other me was delightfully escapist for a night, like going on a full-body holiday. The dancing was the best part. It takes a little time to get really relaxed and uninhibited, I find, but ultimately there’s so much release in moving one’s body to music.
Baby CJ did wake, but his grandma was able to soothe him till we got home, hours later. We found them cuddling on the couch together at about one in the morning.
Right now, I’m baking a huge batch of peanut granola that smells fabulous. Tomorrow Albus is back at the dentist first thing in the morning, and it’s a writing day, assuming everything pans out. We are in the midst of some crammed weeks, with Kevin working weekends, and seemingly endless appointments, dental and otherwise; and then Christmas will be upon us. After lunch today, the kids and I played some songs on the piano, including carols. I bought a beautiful advent calendar yesterday–made in India; Ten Thousand Villages–that you fill yourself, so it’s reusable from year to year. I feel like really celebrating Christmas this year, inventing new family traditions and solidifying others, while remaining faithful to a more-with-less philosophy. These seasonal events take on more significance the older I get (maybe), or the more I feel our family to be its own unique entity in the world, with everyone’s voice adding to the mix. I want to embrace where our family is at, right now, and not waste an ounce of this togetherness. It’s such great fortune to share our lives in relationship with others.
And sometimes you’ve just gotta dance.
Friday, Nov 21, 2008 | Kids, Sleep |
I am eating cheese and crackers right before bed. This is probably ill-advised, but I am SO HUNGRY. The past two nights have been off-the-map bad for sleep, basically in ruinous desert territory where sleep is a form of creative drifting, of falling into shallow pits in the earth and being clawed back out and flung onto the sand. How’s that for metaphor. Don’t answer, please. CJ has a nasty snotty cold and has been unable to sleep in his playpen (at least at night) at all, for two nights. He crawls around screaming and crying as soon as we lay him down; ergo, we don’t. Ergo, we hold him and walk him around (Kevin) and hold him and nurse him (me). Constantly. I had these early morning dreams of eating vast trays of sweets, candies, cupcakes, sugar-topped rolls, gorging on them till I woke feeling guilty and … hungry, apparently.
It felt like I slept no more than twenty minutes at a stretch last night. Kevin said every time he woke, he’d hear or see CJ sucking away at me–that, or whimpering, choking on snot, and trying to crawl blindly off the bed.
It’s late, and we can’t get CJ down again tonight. And he’s still sick, so we can’t let him cry anything out, assuming anything could be cried out. People do this, right? People let their babies cry? I have very little resolution and strength on that subject. I am weak weak weak with compassion and desperation to sleep NOW in the middle of the night, which may explain why our baby is still mostly in bed with us, seven and a half months on.
I’ll tell you what last night reminded me, though. It reminded me that you don’t really know tired till you’ve been wakened all through the night feeding a baby, on consecutive nights. I had to nap today, seriously no choice, and I was crashed out cold (Fooey watching TV; CJ taking a proper nap in his playpen–why, oh why does he like it during daylight hours??). That was what life was like every single day for months after CJ was born; and now it already seems rare–I’d already forgotten that must-crash-out sensation.
Okay, I’ve eaten enough cheese. This should hold me through the night.
Wednesday, Nov 19, 2008 | Confessions, Exercise, Green Dreams, Kids |
Deep breath. Confession. I just drove the kids to school. Okay, and worse. It made my morning so much easier. Baby CJ slept in, so I didn’t rush to wake him and feed him and change him so he could endure a half hour in the stroller. I just let him sleep. Popped him, pajamas and all, into the car seat. The big kids are big enough that I don’t need to walk them to the school doors and see them inside. I just hopped out and helped them cross the street, and kissed them goodbye (not Albus; he’s too big for kisses–in public, at least). Then we drove home. It was still early. No one was cranky and complaining about being stuck in the stroller.
Oh dear. It was so darn luxurious that I’m actually glad we only have one vehicle so that I will be forced to keep walking the kids to school in the morning (afternoons are different–it actually seems easier to walk than to join the crowd of vehicles being irresponsibly driven and parked on the snowy sidestreets surrounding the school). I wonder why I feel better about my life when I’m doing things the hard way, and guilty when I’m taking shortcuts. Balance, balance. It’s a kind of comfort to know there’s never perfect equilibrium, and therefore always something more to strive for.
Here are my excuses for carbon-burning this morning. One, Kevin is in Ottawa and I am all on my own today, and seeking ways to make the day that much more survivable. Two, CJ was up most of the night, off and on, with a terrible croupy cough, and wide awake at 5am for a good hour. He needed that extra sleep. Three. Umm, apparently I don’t have a third excuse. I wanted to drink my cup of coffee while it was still hot? I wanted a few extra minutes to Blog? In any case, we have a pile-up of other errands to run this morning, all within walking distance (long walks, but nevertheless) … and I’m considering, maybe, just this once … driving. (Something tells me that “just this once” could become my winter phrase, as long as a vehicle is available to me. Slippery, slippery slopes.)
Durn snow.
On another subject: boy are we partied out. We had such a blast with Apple-Apple’s butterfly birthday on Sunday, and another good family party last night; but there’s been enough cake eaten and enough thoughtfully chosen gifts opened and enough candles whooshed out to thoroughly mark the (truly significant) occasion. Six years old. From precocious baby who walked early and talked early (how fascinating to hear what was on the mind of a 14-month-old; she looked up while nursing one afternoon and said, “Daughter”), to determined toddler, insisting on potty-training herself at 20 months, through the process of learning to be a kind and helpful big sister (not easy!), to becoming a schoolgirl and revelling in her independence, in learning, and in being a helpful and thoughtful group participant. My equal parts serious and silly child. My French-language-delighting, yearning-to-play-piano-and-learn-to-knit, Little-House-loving-girl. Six years old.
