It’s Not All Mary Poppins

Merry, Merry

December 25, 2011 Posted by | Christmas | | Leave a comment

Toddlers and toilets

Hannah‘s tale of toilet woe reminded me of this very old family story. Which I will share with you for your amusement.

Years ago, my aunt was working downstairs in her kitchen when she realized two things:

1. She hadn’t seen her two-year-old son in a while and
2. She could hear water running.

Whee! Aren’t toddlers exciting??? What a rush! Pure adrenaline.

She sprinted upstairs. As you do when your two-year-old is AWOL and there’s water running.

And she found him,

in the bathroom…

naked…

and sitting…

IN…

the toilet bowl.

Yup.

The running water? He was reaching up to flush the toilet, repeatedly.

Yup. The boy was flushing himself.

What was he doing??? you might reasonably wonder. Certainly his mother did. He was happy to answer! Gleeful, proud of his wee self for thinking this one up.

“I’m having a shower in the toilet, mummy!!”

Ba-dum-pum.

I suspect he shortly thereafter had a bath in the tub.

But really? This is a tale of encouragement and support. Really! Because this two-year-old is now thirty-something. A thirty-something who, I am quite sure, takes his own showers — in an actual shower!!! So hang in there, you frazzled parents. It does get better!

Eventually.

December 23, 2011 Posted by | eeewww, health and safety, Mischief | , , | 1 Comment

Why I Love My Husband (reason # 57368932)

I put on my boots.
“Mary, you is putting on your boots?”

I put their bowls on the table.
“Mary, you putting bowls onna table?”

I change Daniel’s diaper.
“You is changin’ Danny’s diaper, Mary?”

The Onslaught of the Obvious Questions continues unabated. I answer them straight, I dodge them, I divert them … but still they come. Again and again and again. More and more and ever more. Every.Single.Day. I will freely admit that my patience with them is wearing a smidge thin, and that, from time to time, my answers to the incessant deluge of obviousity has been the teeniest bit edgy. Not enough to alarm a toddler, which would be not only unprofessional but unkind. No, my edginess is carefully calibrated to go right over their innocent wee heads, but be enough to ease the pressure of exasperation, before the top of my head blows right off.

“We is having soup for lunch?”
“Jazz is wearing a hat?”
“The doggies has a ball?”

(Why yes, I am looking forward to my Christmas break. Why do you ask?)

“That is a garbage truck?”
“We is painting?”
“You is playing the piano?”

The Wonderful Husband has been off this week, and so has heard (and answered!) many, many, many obvious questions of his own. He is a master of patience with them, and I am supremely grateful for his quiet, gentle presence. And also for his Distraction Factor. Given a choice between hanging with boring old Mary, who they see every day, or Fascinating New Person (aka Wonderful Husband), the choice is clear.

“I put on my coat?”
“Poppy is inna high chair?”
“You gets your mail?”

(It may even be that once in a while someone has sent the tots to the other end of the house, just to see what he’s up to. Not to get rid of them, of course. Just so they can bask in the wonderfulness of his presence.)

“Grace has a sparkle in her hair?”
“It is lunch time?”
“Rory is reading a book?”

This is my last day of work until January and, really? Since it means several gazillion more of these BLOODY STUPID OBVIOUS QUESTIONS before I’m done, today CAN’T END SOON ENOUGH.

“You is banging your head inna wall?”

Yesterday, I dropped oven-dried bread crusts into the food processor. Certain people in this house won’t eat crusts. I will confess this quirk annoys me. I expect the toddlers to eat their damned crusts (and so they do), but… husbands are a different matter entirely. Sigh. However, as he is an otherwise Perfect Human Being, I let the crust thing go. I’m magnanimous that way.

Besides, bread is easy to recycle. Easy, easy. Toast them crispy in a low oven (preferably one you’re already using to cook something else) let them dry completely, break them into bits to feed through the tube of the food processor, and, a few noisy seconds later, bread crumbs! Ta-dah! I haven’t purchased the things in years. Mine are also low-sodium, low-fat, and waaaaay cheaper.

So.

I am running the food processor. The children are napping. For the next couple of hours, I will be blissfully free of stupid obvious questions.

“You makin’ a big noise, Mary???”

I turn to see the much-beloved face of Wonderful Husband looming over my shoulder, his eyes artificially wide and round, the very picture caricature of innocence.

“You makin’ a big noise?”

I give him The Look. The Look with a twinkle. And a fake scowl.

“Don’t you start with the stupid obvious questions!”

“You not like stupid obvious questions, Mary??” Blink, blink, blink go the big brown eyes.

I point a finger, bring it perilously close to the end of his nose. “You want to lose a limb, sir, you keep that right up.”

(It’s loving exchanges like this, people, that build a long and happy marriage.)

It’s another half-hour or so before I am back in the kitchen, and at first I’m working at a counter with my back to the stove, so it takes a minute before I notice.

I’m thinking of having it framed.

December 22, 2011 Posted by | Peeve me, the dark side | , , , | 4 Comments

Pretty, pretty

From Llevo el Invierno via Prudent Baby via One Pretty Thing, we have…

a whole heap of…

very, very pretty…

wings!

Most of these were made with scrap material I had already, though I did need to purchase some. Aren’t they lovely???

I cut the feathers using pinking shears to reduce fraying, since there was NO WAY I was going to hem each scallop of each row of each wing. No way at all.

Since there’s such a mix of fabrics of indeterminate provenance, they will have to be machine washed in cold water on the delicate cycle, and must NOT be put in the dryer!! But costumes don’t get laundered so much as spot-cleaned generally, anyway, right? And what’s a little hang-drying in the face of such utter cuteness?

I’ve made five sets this month. Though the original blogger glued hers, I sewed mine. I think they’ll be more durable that way. What with cutting the scalloped strips for feathers, piecing, sewing, and finishing (a bit; they could be much more finely finished, but I was DONE), I’d say each pair of wings took three hours.

A labour of love, for sure, but SO CUTE. And really? So FUN to do. I enjoyed every minute.

December 21, 2011 Posted by | Christmas, crafts | , , , , , | 3 Comments

Damn! And a pop quiz

I have a post in the works, with lots of pretty pictures of the DARLING Christmas gifts I have made for the children… when the batteries in my camera died.

I am a failed blogger this month, people, I freely admit it.

It should be a simple matter of replacing the batteries, but we’re down to our last set of batteries, so they’ll need to be recharged before I can finish the task.

I am also a failed photographer. Yeesh.

Here’s a peek at the ONE picture I did get uploaded before my technical difficulties.

Pretty, huh? Any guesses what you’re looking at??

December 20, 2011 Posted by | Christmas, crafts | , , , | 4 Comments

Peek-a-boots

Here we have a sturdy pair of hiking boots, belonging to my son. Size Ginormous.

Not pretty, but durable. The boy is hard on his footwear, and this pair is going on year five now. We are happy about this.

The daycare children like boots. The puppy likes boots. We have to monitor boots carefully in this house. Perhaps, however, we did not monitor this pair quite closely enough. Was that a flash of colour as I passed? Something shiny in my peripheral vision? What could it be?

Let’s see…

Well. Lookit that.

Goodness. What all is in there, anyway? Let’s have a closer look. You know, I saw all those objects being transported into the living room, by a diligent trio of Rory-Grace-Jazz, but I thought they were part of the play-fort behind the couch. (The couch being less than a metre to the right of where the boots sit.) Huh.

Busy, busy, busy little people I have around here. And such cooperative play it was, too. Also quiet. Very quiet. That in itself should have made me suspicious…

I count 12 items, plus the little red dog that was sitting between, but not in, them.

Told you those boots were ginormous.

December 15, 2011 Posted by | Grace, Jazz, Mischief, my kids, Rory | , | 6 Comments

Elephants for lunch

“Mary, is that pasta?”

“Yes, it is. Pasta for lunch.” In fact, it’s meatballs on egg noodles with a sour cream sauce. Nom. (The ‘meat’balls are in fact a meat-free veggie version, in deference to vegetarian Jazz.)

“Mary, is that pasta?” Grace echoes Jazz’s question. Grace is an echo-er. Sometimes it’s cute, sometimes it’s just annoying, and on the worst days, you wonder if the girl ever has an original thought in that pretty little head of hers. (On those days, the bad ones? The answer is a firm ‘no’. No, never, not a one.) Jazz is an echo-er, too, come to that, but it manifests a little differently. One day maybe I’ll remember to tell you all about that.

I hate answering mindless questions. I’ll answer obvious ones. Once. And I just did.

“I already answered that question. If you heard Jazz ask, you heard me answer. You tell me: Is that pasta?”

“Yes. Pasta.”

“Right. Now we all know.”

Now, I know these questions are simply a toddler’s way of making conversation. They talk in concrete terms about what is in their environment. They don’t really wonder if that stuff actually is pasta. They’re just making small talk.

“Mary, is that pasta?” (Jazz)
“Mary, is that pasta?” (Grace)
“We are having pasta for lunch? (Rory)

But I will tell you now that the endless repetition of the same BLOODY OBVIOUS question can drive me insane, some days. I usually answer it once. That seems only polite. Thereafter I’ll deflect, as I did with Grace, above. But when it just. won’t. stop???

“Mary, we are having pasta?” (Grace)

“Mary, that is pasta for lunch?” (Rory)

“No, Rory. No, it’s not. It’s a bowl full of elephants.”

“Elephants?”

“Yes, we’re having elephants for lunch.”

“Oh.”

And I don’t know if the universe knows I’ve been pushed about as far as I can go without cracking up entirely. Maybe I’ve puzzled the children enough so they don’t know what to say next. Or they’ve decided I’m crazy, and it’s best not to provoke the crazy lady. Maybe they’re just finally hungry enough to eat those damned elephants… But, for whatever reason…

no one argues.

No one even asks,

“We are eating elephants for lunch?”

They just eat.

Quietly.

It is enough.

December 9, 2011 Posted by | food, Grace, Jazz, Peeve me, Rory | , , , | 11 Comments

Picking the Moments you Live In

“Treasure these days. They go by so fast.”

While I often get asked if the tots are all mine, it’s usually in tones of astonishment, bordering on horror. However, when an elderly man or woman comments on the children, the response is usually quite different. Families that big were a whole lot more common fifty or sixty years ago. The elderly don’t ask, they assume.

“What a lovely family!” they’ll beam. (I don’t correct. Does it matter? They are lovely children.) And then, possibly as an encouragement to a ‘young’ woman with a lot of small children, “Treasure these days, dear. They go by so fast.”

As parents of young children I’m sure you’ve heard that before, and not just from the elderly. From your mother, from your aunt, from the bank teller, the cashier, the middle-aged woman down the street.

On a good day, those words bring comfort and satisfaction, maybe even a burst of joy. You are treasuring these days, and they’re wonderful! On a middling to poor day, the words may offer comfort and perspective. “It’s not great right at this moment, but, she’s right, it will go by quickly, and then I’ll be missing the sweet parts. May as well focus on the sweet parts today.”

But on a truly rotten day, you can hear that phrase as damnably trite and just be exasperated by it. Maybe even infuriated. “Go so fast? Like hell it does. Not nearly fast enough! This will end soon, you say?? HA! I wish!! Bring! It! On!”

Even at our most frustrated, though, we are usually aware at some level that these times are to be treasured. They will go by quickly. We might wish we were enjoying them more RIGHT NOW, but, yeah, special times, treasure it, fer sure. Really!

But if these are times to treasure, when exactly do you do that? Treasure is to stop and notice, to let the wonder seep into you. You pause, you live in the moment, you savour your time with your child. And I can hear you all — “I know, I know. But tell me WHEN I am supposed to do that?” When do you stop and live in the moment with your child, when all your moments are so utterly jam-packed? Doing crafts? Playing dress-up? Driving trucks on the kitchen floor? All lovely ideas, but you have laundry to sort, the inside of the car looks like a bomb went off in there, there’s a mystery stench in the kitchen, and dinner is nowhere near started.

Not much opportunity for Quality, Living-in-the-Moment-with-my-Darling-Child in all that!!!

You think? I see lots of opportunity. Yes, really.

The problem arises when we assume that to live in the moment with our child, we have to join in the child’s activities. We have to play with the playdough, read endless stories, build the block towers for our child to knock down.

Now, of course you can do all that. Playing is fun! If you want to and it’s fun, play away. I make a pretty mean playdough stegosaurus, there are a bunch of book I have read so many times I have them completely memorized, and long before I started doing daycare I had spent many happy hours with my kids playing with that wonderful Playmobil castle. Because there are times when the dishes, they can just wait. Times when the to-do list, which never goes away, can be set to one side for 20 minutes. It really can.

Thing is, I don’t believe it’s in the Good Parent Rulebook that “You Must Play With Your Child”. Playing is something children do. If you want to play, and most of us do, at least once in a while, you do that. Your kid will love it, you’ll have fun together. But if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Play is by definition a pleasure, not an obligation.

Because, let’s be frank here. Even when we have time to get down on the floor and be princess to his dragon, or drive teeny trucks under the couch … most of us get bored. I will tell you now that my tolerance for playing pretend with a four-year-old is about ten minutes. After that, I am BORED WITLESS. I would chew off my arm to escape.

I can read, I can sing, I can dance, but doooon’t ask me to “you be the daddy and I’ll be the mommy and we’re going to…”

And you know what? Goodness knows I have enough boring tasks I must complete in a day without taking on one that’s totally optional. Another way to look at it: If I’m going to be bored anyway, why not be bored doing something I have to do that be bored doing something I don’t have to do?

Hm. That’s clear as mud.

My point is … Quality Time can just as easily be spent doing adult tasks as it be spent can doing child-centred things. You can live in the moment with your child as you do laundry or cook dinner.

Seriously.

My eldest daughter was nine month old when she learned to play peek-a-boo. It was the cutest damned thing, and we had the most marvellous time as she repeatedly covered her eyes, then opened them to beam and chortle at me as I carolled “Peek! Peek-a-boo!” Total in-the-moment Quality Time with my baby.

We were sorting laundry at the time. I’d dumped the laundry out onto the floor. I’d put the empty basket on one side of me, the baby on the other so as to keep her away from the folded laundry that would go in the basket. To further protect my folded laundry, I put a pile of clean socks on the floor in front of her, hoping they’d prove sufficient distraction that she’d not crawl to the folded clothes. I didn’t care if she crawled through the heap on the floor, but with any luck, the socks would provide ample entertainment.

They did. While I sorted and she waved socks around, I chatted to her. I talked about what she was doing, I talked about what I was doing, I talked about our outing that morning. I filled the air with words, and she basked in my undivided attention. And then, in a moment of cheeriness, she raised her two small hands in the air. The sock that she was holding in those hands ended up — surprise! — smack across her eyes. She dropped her two hands down into her lap, and there were her eyes again!

“Peek-a-boo!” I sang. And Haley? She laughed. Laughed and laughed and did it again! And Again! And Again!!!

And I could be there through all that wonderfulness, because I had this ginormous pile of laundry to sort. We had A Moment while doing laundry.

Laundry does not preclude Moments with your child. Nor does cleaning the inside of the car. They can scramble about in the back seat while you burrow in the front. And what kid doesn’t ADORE ‘steering’ the car, while you dredge up the grossness from under the carseat in the back? In short, just about any boring household task can be modified to include a child.

As they get older, they can help. Four-year-olds can match socks. Six-year-olds can run a small hand-held vacuum cleaner.

If you’ve always involved the kids in your tasks, if being with mummy while she works is together time, having them work alongside you is the natural outgrowth. It’s not punitive, it’s not coerced. It’s just natural. (Not that you won’t have to read them the riot act once in a while, but they will understand that chores are not Grown-up Activities. They are simply part of being in a family.)

Yesterday Poppy came in cranky and tearful. Within half an hour I had declared a nap essential, and off she went. Problem was, she woke up about 20 minutes after everyone else had gone down for their naps. And I had planned an afternoon of sewing! (Christmas is coming. I’ll have to post pictures of the adorable gifts they’re getting.) I had four done. I wanted to get that fifth and final thing assembled this afternoon.

The playpen in which she sleeps, however, is right there in my craft room. Hmmm. You know, I thought to myself, it’s worth a shot… So… I changed her diaper. I gave her a bottle and a snack and a book and a toy… and I sat myself down at the sewing machine.

It mightn’t have worked. Some children would NOT find that sufficient, not at all! But Poppy is a cheery little thing. She had her food, she had a toy or two, AND she had my UNDIVIDED ATTENTION. She stood in her playpen at the end of my large craft table, and chattered to me. I chattered to her. We talked about the fabric and the colours and the noise of the sewing machine. We sang a few songs. And I got my sewing done. Did Poppy feel ripped off? She did not. As far as she was concerned, we had just had some quality time.

Because, you know what? We did. It doesn’t have to be a Kid Activity to be Quality Time.

Last week, after a particularly LOUD, housebound morning, I tucked the last tot into bed for nap, and sat down in front of my computer, cup of tea on my left, all set to write a few emails in peace and quiet.

Just then Adam (my 22-year-old son) emerged from his room. His brain had taken as much Chemistry as it was going to absorb that morning, and he was ready to socialize. He wanted to chat. He wanted to show me something he’d read. He wanted, in short, His Mother’s Attention.

Now, he’s old enough that I could have continued with my plans, but that seemed a) rude and b) a waste of opportunity to spend time with someone who’s pretty busy, and whose comings and goings in the house can be irregular. As ever, though, I have a long to-do list…

Adam and I spent the next half-hour chatting as we rolled Chocolate Brandy Balls. It was friendly, it was companionable, I enjoyed his company — AND I got those delicious but fiddly things made in half the time it would have taken me otherwise. For his part, he got a break from his studies, he got one-on-one time with mom, AND he got to eat half-a-dozen brandy balls. He also added a few more kitchen skills to his already respectable repertoire. (When you’ve worked with mom in the kitchen since you could stand, you’re pretty well-equipped to manage one when you’re twenty…)

Whether they’re two or twenty-two, they like time with mom. And whether they’re two or twenty-two, that time can be spent in some kid-centred activity, but it can just as easily be spent working together. By the time they’re twenty-two, you’re two adults, together. It’s wonderful.

December 8, 2011 Posted by | my kids, parenting | , , | 12 Comments

Strategizing

I am sorry for the protracted silence. Though I am surrounded by the same cuteness every single day, I find myself utterly unable to compose a single post.

But today! I have a Strategy. I shall keep the compose screen open all day, not so much to guilt myself into it (I’m pretty much impermeable to petty guilt), but so as to a) REMIND myself and b) BE READY when the cuteness happens.

Because, be sure it is. I’m just not sharing. And that is not Good Blogging.

I’ll be back!
(I hope.)

December 6, 2011 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , | 2 Comments

   

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