The most difficult thing that I had to get my head around when my son was born, was that I had a new part to my identity. Not one of those blessed people who grew up wanting and preparing for children, I was at quite a loss as to how to act and even how to perceive myself as “mother”. I remember one day my own father telling my then toddler son to go see mom and didn’t even turn to greet him, because in my mind he was going to see mom, you know, MY mom, the only mom. Oops.
Well, now hearing, mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom (you get the idea) has sunk in the idea that these, now two boys, are in fact my children, I am their mom, my own mother has graduated to nana, and this is not in fact the most underpaid babysitting gig of my life.
Every day I learn something new about the part of my identity that is mom. And with joy I have chosen to lay aside a number of other parts of myself to allow the mom part to grow and love and give and learn. I still cling to taking care of my health and my spirit and get up hours earlier than the household to embrace that small time to find peace and healing for my mind, my body, and my soul. In this season in my life where I am called mom more often than Chantelle, I am sowing seeds for what I believe will be a beautiful harvest in another season to come.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
I'LL SEE YOUR "WHY MOMMY?" AND RAISE YOU A "WHAT KIND OF?"
I have been best friends with Michelle since we were 5 years old. She had her first baby just 5 weeks before my first, and has since been my tip-off to what is coming next in my firstborn’s development. As her child is a girl, 5 weeks older, and definitely on the advanced side of things, I usually have some prep time before my eldest shows the same signs.
Michelle is now going through, the “why” stage. Everything is “why mommy” from her little girl. So I have therefore been watching my kid very closely for signs of the “why”. Instead I think I am dealing with something just as amusing (or frustrating). I have entered the “what kind of” zone.
Let me explain:
Me: Look at the digger
Him: What kind of digger?
Me: A yellow digger
Him: What kind of yellow digger?
Me: A big yellow digger
Him: What kind of big yellow digger?
You see where this is going. This is where my husband tries to see how much the boy can remember and continues the adjective game on and on…
I told him the other day that we were going to go somewhere tomorrow – and of course, he asked me “what kind of tomorrow”. How do you not laugh.
Sigh. And sometimes cry a little.
We may still get to “why why why why why why” but until then, “what kind of why?”.
Michelle is now going through, the “why” stage. Everything is “why mommy” from her little girl. So I have therefore been watching my kid very closely for signs of the “why”. Instead I think I am dealing with something just as amusing (or frustrating). I have entered the “what kind of” zone.
Let me explain:
Me: Look at the digger
Him: What kind of digger?
Me: A yellow digger
Him: What kind of yellow digger?
Me: A big yellow digger
Him: What kind of big yellow digger?
You see where this is going. This is where my husband tries to see how much the boy can remember and continues the adjective game on and on…
I told him the other day that we were going to go somewhere tomorrow – and of course, he asked me “what kind of tomorrow”. How do you not laugh.
Sigh. And sometimes cry a little.
We may still get to “why why why why why why” but until then, “what kind of why?”.
60 MINUTES
Things that I did, one lonely woman can in only 1 hour when I was left alone in my own home without children or husband to get ready for an event…
1. Took out the garbage and finished my chores
2. Got my clothes and items ready for tomorrow’s work day
3. Laid my phone/alarm clock out on the bedroom end table without fear that it would snatched and hid in some toy box before being allowed to complete its mission
4. Listened to the Sex and the City soundtrack without ridicule
5. Danced and sang out loud, once again, without ridicule
6. Relaxed and watched TV with the volume really really loud (once again and once again without ridicule – I have been chastised for wanting the volume too loud as apparently I’m going a little bit deaf) AND watched any channel other than TreeHouse
7. Had a shower without peekers
8. Shaved my legs without questions about what I am doing and why…
9. Laid my clothes out on the bed without fear of them getting a nice big ketchupy hug
10. Left the baby gate open
11. Actually got ready for the event, without help or questions, or changing twice because I got kissed with a face full of ketchup
12. Left my drink out on the counter within reach of, well, nobody now!
13. Ate some chocolate without sharing
14. Wrote this article
15. Realized, or rather remembered that, when given the chance, I am an extremely efficient person capable of accomplishing many excellent things in a short period of time
Thank you to my parents for taking the children and giving me the most fun hour I’ve had in a long time!
1. Took out the garbage and finished my chores
2. Got my clothes and items ready for tomorrow’s work day
3. Laid my phone/alarm clock out on the bedroom end table without fear that it would snatched and hid in some toy box before being allowed to complete its mission
4. Listened to the Sex and the City soundtrack without ridicule
5. Danced and sang out loud, once again, without ridicule
6. Relaxed and watched TV with the volume really really loud (once again and once again without ridicule – I have been chastised for wanting the volume too loud as apparently I’m going a little bit deaf) AND watched any channel other than TreeHouse
7. Had a shower without peekers
8. Shaved my legs without questions about what I am doing and why…
9. Laid my clothes out on the bed without fear of them getting a nice big ketchupy hug
10. Left the baby gate open
11. Actually got ready for the event, without help or questions, or changing twice because I got kissed with a face full of ketchup
12. Left my drink out on the counter within reach of, well, nobody now!
13. Ate some chocolate without sharing
14. Wrote this article
15. Realized, or rather remembered that, when given the chance, I am an extremely efficient person capable of accomplishing many excellent things in a short period of time
Thank you to my parents for taking the children and giving me the most fun hour I’ve had in a long time!
Monday, April 6, 2009
TROUBLE AND CHEEKY
I would like to introduce you to Trouble and Cheeky. I have two sons. Cheeky is 3 years old and Trouble is 15 months old as of yesterday.
I know it goes against all of the parenting books to label your children, especially to the point that the eldest actually refers to his brother as Trouble.
Cheeky is a firstborn, cautious and self-aware. He is also determined, smart, sensitive and loving but independent, my introvert, and definitely cheeky.
Trouble on the other hand, has his father’s easy going calm nature and a great sense of adventure. I am still learning about him, but he is fun and free and happy and cute beyond measure.
When Cheeky falls off a chair (or some other hypothetical situation, ahem…) I believe he thinks, “you know, that hurt an awful lot, I shall be more careful the next time I am on that chair.” (I’m not that far off, for some unknown reason – this child actually uses the word “shall” – don’t look at me).
Now Trouble on the other hand, should he ever fall off a chair, he will think, “you know, that hurt an awful lot, but not THAT much, let us find somewhere higher and see what happens…”
I remember my friend talking about her daughter how she had a thousand names for her – all from love.
And that’s like my Trouble and Cheeky. They are also Squeaky and Squishy, angel and cherished one, stinky bum and well, stinky bum, and many more. There are too many emotions and situations to only call them by just one name. Also, I hope they develop a good sense of humour about themselves too – we might as well laugh at ourselves, to quote Joyce Meyer “we’re about the funniest thing we know”.
I know it goes against all of the parenting books to label your children, especially to the point that the eldest actually refers to his brother as Trouble.
Cheeky is a firstborn, cautious and self-aware. He is also determined, smart, sensitive and loving but independent, my introvert, and definitely cheeky.
Trouble on the other hand, has his father’s easy going calm nature and a great sense of adventure. I am still learning about him, but he is fun and free and happy and cute beyond measure.
When Cheeky falls off a chair (or some other hypothetical situation, ahem…) I believe he thinks, “you know, that hurt an awful lot, I shall be more careful the next time I am on that chair.” (I’m not that far off, for some unknown reason – this child actually uses the word “shall” – don’t look at me).
Now Trouble on the other hand, should he ever fall off a chair, he will think, “you know, that hurt an awful lot, but not THAT much, let us find somewhere higher and see what happens…”
I remember my friend talking about her daughter how she had a thousand names for her – all from love.
And that’s like my Trouble and Cheeky. They are also Squeaky and Squishy, angel and cherished one, stinky bum and well, stinky bum, and many more. There are too many emotions and situations to only call them by just one name. Also, I hope they develop a good sense of humour about themselves too – we might as well laugh at ourselves, to quote Joyce Meyer “we’re about the funniest thing we know”.
KETCHUP
Generally I’m not a “THAT’s not going to happen to MY kid” kind of person, I’m more a, “I wonder WHEN that will happen with us???”
Except for ketchup. Sorry, but personally I’m not that big a fan of ketchup, it has sugar in it and vinegar. I use vinegar to clean my floors, not much for eating it.
When my firstborn was just learning to eat, I was chatting with a co-worker and she was telling me a story of her nephew who only eats if it’s dipped in ketchup. For the one and only time, I thought, I would rather that not happen to my son. And I actually was doing a good job at it. Our treat at our weekly visit to the zoo was always French fries, and since I don’t eat ketchup with mine, neither of us did. We were on our way to at least a little healthy living, or so I thought.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not a complete anti-sugar fanatic or health freak, but I just didn’t want THAT kid, you know the one that asks Grandma for ketchup on the Christmas Turkey dinner (yuck).
Anyways – I forgot about him. You know, the father. He is a ketchup eater and one day, daddy made grilled cheese dipped in ketchup, and the story completely changed. The red stuff is our staple, or maybe it’s just the act of dipping, that seems to be pretty popular too. Anyways, I did have to draw the line the other day, when somehow, between eating off his dad’s plate and the breakfast I’d given him, the second born dipped his waffles in ketchup, now that’s just not quite right…
Except for ketchup. Sorry, but personally I’m not that big a fan of ketchup, it has sugar in it and vinegar. I use vinegar to clean my floors, not much for eating it.
When my firstborn was just learning to eat, I was chatting with a co-worker and she was telling me a story of her nephew who only eats if it’s dipped in ketchup. For the one and only time, I thought, I would rather that not happen to my son. And I actually was doing a good job at it. Our treat at our weekly visit to the zoo was always French fries, and since I don’t eat ketchup with mine, neither of us did. We were on our way to at least a little healthy living, or so I thought.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not a complete anti-sugar fanatic or health freak, but I just didn’t want THAT kid, you know the one that asks Grandma for ketchup on the Christmas Turkey dinner (yuck).
Anyways – I forgot about him. You know, the father. He is a ketchup eater and one day, daddy made grilled cheese dipped in ketchup, and the story completely changed. The red stuff is our staple, or maybe it’s just the act of dipping, that seems to be pretty popular too. Anyways, I did have to draw the line the other day, when somehow, between eating off his dad’s plate and the breakfast I’d given him, the second born dipped his waffles in ketchup, now that’s just not quite right…
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
QUICK RANT
I recently read an article that touched on equality in the workplace citing that women work on average 37 hours a week and men 43 or something like that.
All THAT tells me is that the women work more efficiently.
All THAT tells me is that the women work more efficiently.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
AM I THE ONLY ONE...?
1. Who has 5 items on my grocery list before I’ve finished unpacking my groceries from my current trip?
2. Who wonders where my boobs went?
3. Who irons my baby clothes?
4. Whose young ones take every opportunity to stick their hands down my shirt?
5. Who can bench press 200 lbs with one arm but has tendonitis in the other?
6. Who has called one of the kids by the dog’s name?
7. Who has a hard time switching off the “mommy voice”?
8. Who has screwed up the whole disciplinary process and paid for it for weeks by openly laughing at your kid sneezing milk out his nose?
9. Whose kid can properly order, in the right sequence, his Starbucks request? (kid’s lemonade with ice)
10. Who dreams of carrying a purse that is too small to carry a diaper in it?
11. Who feels like she’s getting a gift when she gets to go to Walmart ALONE?
12. Whose kids have more and better clothes than I do?
13. Who could make a meal just eating the food that falls off my kids
14. Who falls in love with my husband every time I see him cuddling one of our kids
15. Who jokes about ironing my baby clothes?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
ODE TO MY SISTER
Of all the people in my life, I cannot imagine my life without my older sister, Crystal. I have never known a day without her and have never imagined one. She is my confidant, my counselor, my therapist and friend. She is my ‘brutally honest’. No matter what, she will tell it like it is – no holds barred – and I count on her for that. She actually asked me once if she had overstepped her bounds – not possible! She is brilliant, funny, pretty, scared of heights, has read every book ever written, speaks 14 different computer languages, could probably still beat me up if she had to. She is my strength and part of my soul.
I can sense when she is going to call me minutes before she actually does and I feel her pain and joy as deeply as it were my own. She is the only one who cried when she found out I was pregnant, including me, and was the only one who actually talked to my belly, including me. Our hair waves in exactly the same place, we both sound the same on the phone, we act more alike than either of us will ever admit and we have been sparring with movie quotes for so long, it’s almost a second language.
In all my memories, she is there. I kept every letter she ever wrote me when I was away from home at bible school, and then of course, used them against her at her wedding, but hey, what are younger sisters for. I know every button to push to get her to laugh, to get her to look at me and stick her tongue out, and of course, to launch into an hour long lecture on the analysis and structure of life and goal setting. She is the only one I ask if these pants make me look fat and want and get an honest answer. She notices every time I get my hair cut and we have frequently purchased the exact same pair of glasses or item of clothing without knowing it.
I am blessed to have had and still have strong and godly female role models in my life: my grandmother, my great aunts and my mother. I add Crystal to this list. Not just because she’s almost 40 and I think she’s old, but mostly because, well, she’s 40 and old (anybody notice that big huge button I just pushed?????). And well, old enough to be adored. And with my heart and soul I adore this wonderful and giving person to whom I would not be half the person I am. Thank you dear seestra.
I can sense when she is going to call me minutes before she actually does and I feel her pain and joy as deeply as it were my own. She is the only one who cried when she found out I was pregnant, including me, and was the only one who actually talked to my belly, including me. Our hair waves in exactly the same place, we both sound the same on the phone, we act more alike than either of us will ever admit and we have been sparring with movie quotes for so long, it’s almost a second language.
In all my memories, she is there. I kept every letter she ever wrote me when I was away from home at bible school, and then of course, used them against her at her wedding, but hey, what are younger sisters for. I know every button to push to get her to laugh, to get her to look at me and stick her tongue out, and of course, to launch into an hour long lecture on the analysis and structure of life and goal setting. She is the only one I ask if these pants make me look fat and want and get an honest answer. She notices every time I get my hair cut and we have frequently purchased the exact same pair of glasses or item of clothing without knowing it.
I am blessed to have had and still have strong and godly female role models in my life: my grandmother, my great aunts and my mother. I add Crystal to this list. Not just because she’s almost 40 and I think she’s old, but mostly because, well, she’s 40 and old (anybody notice that big huge button I just pushed?????). And well, old enough to be adored. And with my heart and soul I adore this wonderful and giving person to whom I would not be half the person I am. Thank you dear seestra.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
5 ESSENTIAL RULES
Most days there are only five fundamental rules that I have in my household (and most of them I’ve even communicated to my family)…
Rule number one – only one child is allowed to bleed and then only once a day. If more than one child bleeds, the second bleeder forfeits his next turn to bleed and bleeder number one is back in line to be the next injured. Should one child DARE to bleed twice in one day, he is forced to endure extra cuddling and coddling. If it’s serious enough, I might just cry.
Rule number two – mommy does not need anything before her children, except a cup (or 6) of Green Tea. There are no exceptions, even the breaking of rule number one. Mommy will do her best to ensure rule number two is set in place before anyone else is up and awake; however, there are no real conditions to this rule. Bonus points are awarded should a family member purchase a Venti China Green Tips Tea Misto and bring it to her.
Rule number three – all toys that spill out of the designated toy room area must be returned to their home before anyone gets to sleep. Should toys remain outside the designated toy room over night – the sweeping monster will eat them.
Rule number four – I can’t remember
Rule number five – family comes first. Also known as us against them. They are brothers, and brothers are forever. They will also eventually find out that we, as parents, especially me as mommy, have no idea what I’m doing and will institute a coup, or coalition, depending on which country you live in. We must remain person and person, friend and friend and husband and wife, and then will remain a strong and united mommy and daddy.
Rule number one – only one child is allowed to bleed and then only once a day. If more than one child bleeds, the second bleeder forfeits his next turn to bleed and bleeder number one is back in line to be the next injured. Should one child DARE to bleed twice in one day, he is forced to endure extra cuddling and coddling. If it’s serious enough, I might just cry.
Rule number two – mommy does not need anything before her children, except a cup (or 6) of Green Tea. There are no exceptions, even the breaking of rule number one. Mommy will do her best to ensure rule number two is set in place before anyone else is up and awake; however, there are no real conditions to this rule. Bonus points are awarded should a family member purchase a Venti China Green Tips Tea Misto and bring it to her.
Rule number three – all toys that spill out of the designated toy room area must be returned to their home before anyone gets to sleep. Should toys remain outside the designated toy room over night – the sweeping monster will eat them.
Rule number four – I can’t remember
Rule number five – family comes first. Also known as us against them. They are brothers, and brothers are forever. They will also eventually find out that we, as parents, especially me as mommy, have no idea what I’m doing and will institute a coup, or coalition, depending on which country you live in. We must remain person and person, friend and friend and husband and wife, and then will remain a strong and united mommy and daddy.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
LAUNDRY
It just took me 45 minutes to fold and put away one load of laundry. I get it now, I understand.
I never judged but was always curious at those mothers whose grown children didn’t do any chores around the house – how could this happen? I wondered.
It happens when you have two toddlers and all you want to do is just get the laundry done. I actually enjoy doing laundry – there is something satisfying in drawers full of clean clothes and a closet full of nice clean hanging shirts. Normally I finish laundry in the evenings when daddy distracts the offspring or during Mighty Machines.
Today; however, it went like this. Put laundry from mommy’s basket into the toy room basket. Then dump the laundry out, then play on it, then pile toys on it, then use mommy’s underwear as a sling shot (how DO you explain thongs to a 3 year old anyways…), then the digger has to help. Yes, the digger, thank you Aunty and Uncle for the biggest ride-on digger that now is essential to every part of our lives, sigh. So helpful they will one day hopefully be.
Then we have to clean up the toys that have made their way into the bedrooms because of course, I am a toy magnet and toys follow me everywhere I go – I like to think of them as treasures, laid at the feet of the goddess in recognition of her divine beauty and power…
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyways.
Once the laundry is actually put away, and the toys shoved back towards the toy room, then the relocation of clothes happens, as the 3 year old had to help put the clothes away. Once I find them in the vacuum closet (that would be my nice black skirt), things are righted and all is good.
In the end the laundry did get finished, I’m sure I’ll find that missing pair of underwear in a toy box one day, the boy is so pleased that he helped. But we are getting closer you know, we’ve graduated from extremely unhelpful to not totally in the way…
I never judged but was always curious at those mothers whose grown children didn’t do any chores around the house – how could this happen? I wondered.
It happens when you have two toddlers and all you want to do is just get the laundry done. I actually enjoy doing laundry – there is something satisfying in drawers full of clean clothes and a closet full of nice clean hanging shirts. Normally I finish laundry in the evenings when daddy distracts the offspring or during Mighty Machines.
Today; however, it went like this. Put laundry from mommy’s basket into the toy room basket. Then dump the laundry out, then play on it, then pile toys on it, then use mommy’s underwear as a sling shot (how DO you explain thongs to a 3 year old anyways…), then the digger has to help. Yes, the digger, thank you Aunty and Uncle for the biggest ride-on digger that now is essential to every part of our lives, sigh. So helpful they will one day hopefully be.
Then we have to clean up the toys that have made their way into the bedrooms because of course, I am a toy magnet and toys follow me everywhere I go – I like to think of them as treasures, laid at the feet of the goddess in recognition of her divine beauty and power…
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyways.
Once the laundry is actually put away, and the toys shoved back towards the toy room, then the relocation of clothes happens, as the 3 year old had to help put the clothes away. Once I find them in the vacuum closet (that would be my nice black skirt), things are righted and all is good.
In the end the laundry did get finished, I’m sure I’ll find that missing pair of underwear in a toy box one day, the boy is so pleased that he helped. But we are getting closer you know, we’ve graduated from extremely unhelpful to not totally in the way…
LIFE CHANGES
My son broke a plate the other day forcing me to sweep in the deep dark corners of my kitchen. It got me thinking how very very different things are now with children, not just my life, but my attitude and, what was very obvious – my new level of tolerance for cleanliness, or lack thereof.
Having children is, in my opinion, one of three things in life that changes your soul – your core values, how you view life, yourself and others. It’s amazing how having a small child can affect every part of your life.
I gave up coffee when I was trying to get pregnant and then, the worst came, I had to give up all coffee related establishments when I actually did become pregnant – the smell, oh the nausea. I remember that that was how I first knew I really was pregnant; we were in Whistler and I was walking around the village and went into the fudge shop to get myself a little holiday treat, took one step in, turned around and just about lost my lunch and beyond. Everything smelt stronger, and shoddier.
I gave up questionable herbal teas, hot tubs, alcohol and looking at my feet. My house is now the last thing on my to-do list and napping is the first. The other day I actually sat, just sat and held my youngest son while he slept amidst a room full of toys and a kitchen full of dirty dishes. THIS has been the biggest change and a surprisingly easy adjustment. Normally an extremely neat and tidy person, my house resembles controlled chaos and I like to think that I’ve become a little bit more relaxed.
Growing up, I would always do my chores first and play after. My older sister, would read first and well, actually, she would read later too, because I had become frustrated that she hadn’t done her chores, which needed to be done in order for me to finish mine, that I most times ended up doing her tasks too. Anyways, my point would be that priorities have shifted from upkeeping a prestine home, to trying to keep up enough that feet don’t completely stick to the floor. Fun comes first and chores are mixed within those. We clean, but we sing while we clean.
From the way I eat, to the way I talk (sometimes “mommy” voice doesn’t turn off as easily as it should), to the choices I make, the stretch marks are not the markers of my mommyness, my fundamental nature has changed and I am a messier person for it.
Having children is, in my opinion, one of three things in life that changes your soul – your core values, how you view life, yourself and others. It’s amazing how having a small child can affect every part of your life.
I gave up coffee when I was trying to get pregnant and then, the worst came, I had to give up all coffee related establishments when I actually did become pregnant – the smell, oh the nausea. I remember that that was how I first knew I really was pregnant; we were in Whistler and I was walking around the village and went into the fudge shop to get myself a little holiday treat, took one step in, turned around and just about lost my lunch and beyond. Everything smelt stronger, and shoddier.
I gave up questionable herbal teas, hot tubs, alcohol and looking at my feet. My house is now the last thing on my to-do list and napping is the first. The other day I actually sat, just sat and held my youngest son while he slept amidst a room full of toys and a kitchen full of dirty dishes. THIS has been the biggest change and a surprisingly easy adjustment. Normally an extremely neat and tidy person, my house resembles controlled chaos and I like to think that I’ve become a little bit more relaxed.
Growing up, I would always do my chores first and play after. My older sister, would read first and well, actually, she would read later too, because I had become frustrated that she hadn’t done her chores, which needed to be done in order for me to finish mine, that I most times ended up doing her tasks too. Anyways, my point would be that priorities have shifted from upkeeping a prestine home, to trying to keep up enough that feet don’t completely stick to the floor. Fun comes first and chores are mixed within those. We clean, but we sing while we clean.
From the way I eat, to the way I talk (sometimes “mommy” voice doesn’t turn off as easily as it should), to the choices I make, the stretch marks are not the markers of my mommyness, my fundamental nature has changed and I am a messier person for it.
THE MAN
The most wonderful person in the world is ‘The Man’.
When my son was two years old, he went through a phase where he didn’t like to leave anything behind. He cried when we had to leave the flatbed at Costco, when we dropped off some plants at a friend’s house (much to the delight of the plants that now they stood a fighting chance), but the climax was when my husband, Steve had to leave his precious mountain bike (sorry, he wants me to add single track slayer to that description…) at a friend’s house to get a tune up.
Tyler would have none of that, it was daddy’s bike and no way were they going to leave it behind. Thus was invented ‘the man’. The man was going to fix the bike and we would get it back, but the man needed to have it right now. That satisfied the possessive nature of our son and that was the first sparkling of respect for this amazing man who could do such things.
Now, I am less creative than my husband and am more inclined to just tell my children the exact truth, that we are leaving the bike to get fixed so get in the car. However, creation of ‘the man’ has been our escape from explanation since then. Mostly ‘the man’ fixes or repairs things or is who is taking care of certain toys or articles that we had to leave at our last house when we moved here.
Thinking on the spot and getting creative with our children is a constant and necessary challenge. Trying to find a good balance between telling them the truth, because they are always much smarter than we give them credit for, and not burdening them with the whole complete truth that a two year old does not need to know. For example – the dog is going to live on the farm, when really, well, we don’t need to go there do we? The best explanation I remember reading was from Anne Frank’s biography when she asked her father about sex. He asked her to look at his heavy suitcase with all of his repair tools and said that he wouldn’t be a good father if he asked her to carry that would he – and she had to agree. Similar to that, he wouldn’t be a very good father if he asked her to carry all the knowledge about sex at such a young age so he would tell her in a couple of years when she was stronger. And this satisfied her.
I think of that story at times when I have to choose between truth or tale and hopefully I’ll give my children confidence that what I say is honest as much as I can and explanations are given, not on demand but on my judgment. Sometimes though, I just go for the most entertaining aspect. Must run now, we are having dinosaur eggs for supper…
When my son was two years old, he went through a phase where he didn’t like to leave anything behind. He cried when we had to leave the flatbed at Costco, when we dropped off some plants at a friend’s house (much to the delight of the plants that now they stood a fighting chance), but the climax was when my husband, Steve had to leave his precious mountain bike (sorry, he wants me to add single track slayer to that description…) at a friend’s house to get a tune up.
Tyler would have none of that, it was daddy’s bike and no way were they going to leave it behind. Thus was invented ‘the man’. The man was going to fix the bike and we would get it back, but the man needed to have it right now. That satisfied the possessive nature of our son and that was the first sparkling of respect for this amazing man who could do such things.
Now, I am less creative than my husband and am more inclined to just tell my children the exact truth, that we are leaving the bike to get fixed so get in the car. However, creation of ‘the man’ has been our escape from explanation since then. Mostly ‘the man’ fixes or repairs things or is who is taking care of certain toys or articles that we had to leave at our last house when we moved here.
Thinking on the spot and getting creative with our children is a constant and necessary challenge. Trying to find a good balance between telling them the truth, because they are always much smarter than we give them credit for, and not burdening them with the whole complete truth that a two year old does not need to know. For example – the dog is going to live on the farm, when really, well, we don’t need to go there do we? The best explanation I remember reading was from Anne Frank’s biography when she asked her father about sex. He asked her to look at his heavy suitcase with all of his repair tools and said that he wouldn’t be a good father if he asked her to carry that would he – and she had to agree. Similar to that, he wouldn’t be a very good father if he asked her to carry all the knowledge about sex at such a young age so he would tell her in a couple of years when she was stronger. And this satisfied her.
I think of that story at times when I have to choose between truth or tale and hopefully I’ll give my children confidence that what I say is honest as much as I can and explanations are given, not on demand but on my judgment. Sometimes though, I just go for the most entertaining aspect. Must run now, we are having dinosaur eggs for supper…
BABYSITTING
Do you ever get the feeling that being a mother is like the longest babysitting job you ever had and you’ve just fallen asleep on the couch and the REAL parents are going to walk in any minute and give you your $1.75/hour (yes, I am THAT old)?...
The kids look like their father and they have the same gestures that he does and their carnivorous nature they definitely did not get from me. It’s clear that they are his and I know deep down in the memories of pain that I had a part in bringing them into this world, but some days, I honestly wonder how they got here?
Don’t get me wrong, we bonded, we nursed, we laughed, we cried, or rather, the babies laughed and I cried but who is this person I’ve become with a new name and a new list (or a list of books with lists) of responsibilities and expectations?
I was never one of those people that always dreamed of having children, imagined what my offspring would look like paired with this guy or that guy, my life goal was actually to join a convent – I was looking into the whole Catholic thing when I met my husband to be, well, the best laid plans…
Needless to say, we married and came to that moment when we had to choose if it was to be us, or a sleepier, poorer us. We are definitely sleepy and poor but happy so I guess we chose wisely.
The kiddlings look at me some days like they’ve figured me out, like they KNOW that I’m not quite cut out for this mothering gig and that maybe, just maybe someone else should really be in charge.
I’ve blinked and pinched myself and dunked my head in cold water and I’m still here and well they’re still here to so looks like we’re here to stay so I should probably get around to admitting to myself that I wasn’t just yo-yo dieting for three years and that smell on my sweater really is spit up and that mommy definitely isn’t the worst name that I’ve been called.
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