When we moved to our new home here in the Okanagan, the youngest boy was still a baby so his crib ended up in with us and the eldest got his own room. Not any more. The little one is growing up and the crib was officially moved into the same room as his big brother - at the wish of the big brother actually.
As the realization that my little baby was growing up, I cried and cried. Nah. Just kidding. I totally celebrated - every step towards independence is a joyful milestone in my books. The other reason for my celebration is the growing bond between brothers. I used to watch super nanny when I was pregnant so I could hopefully avoid some big parenting pitfalls and I remember what she did for one family that had 5 boys - she created a slogan for them “brothers forever”, and the boys took to it like militia.
I have an older sister and she is one of the most important people to me and I hope and pray that my boys will find that same type of soul mate in each other. Someone who will be there for them without thinking whether they can or not, someone who will fight with them and for them and someone who will remind them that it’s their mother’s birthday and to get her something really nice this year.
That the 4 year old wants the 2 year old in his room and is fully prepared to call it a joint room and that the 2 year old is okay with leaving mommy and daddy’s room to join his older brother is excellent - that they may take an extra 2 hours to fall asleep each night is something I’m willing to deal with in the battle for brotherhood. “we few, we happy few, we band of brothers” (Henry V, Shakespeare).
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
CANDY GIRL
I love candy. There, I said it. And not just your standard chocolate bar from the local gas station. I mean the “take me back to being a kid” kind of candy. Mo Jo’s, Tootsie Rolls, Bottle Caps and gummy worms – the stuff that put a smile on your face and brought a sigh from your mom.
As an adult, what is a candy girl to do? Enter: the new British Invasion Sweets & Goods store in Peachland. They have been open only a short time, and I am already a fan. Wandering around the store, I realized that candy has played a surprisingly important role in my life.
I mark my first pregnancy by all of the tootsie rolls that I ate. For the second pregnancy, it was hundreds of those little red coke bottle gummy candies. Long red Twizzler licorice got me through a lot of late night/early morning nursings, and to this day remains my stock and default candy of choice.
Mo Jo’s were my first lesson in economics. I remember when they went from 1 cent each to 2 cents each. Ouch. When you only have 25 cents - that’s a big cut of the pot. My first smoke was with the package of fake gum candy cigarettes (but only until my father found them). When my sister and I played together, taffy was our store’s monetary system. We also could not get enough of the Lick-a-Stick packages – which we substituted with jello sugar when we ran out of the powder. Slurpees got me through High School and I still love mint candy, possibly because I think I’m eating something vaguely healthful. I also love jelly belly’s and anything caramel. One of my favourites is the red box of McIntosh caramel toffee. Sometimes when I visit my mom, I still search through her baking cupboard for any stray boxes she’s saving for some special dessert.
I have even started to bring up my children in the way of the candy. On our last visit to the British Invasion store (it is helpful that it’s right across from a park), my 2 year old picked up a piece of individually wrapped bubble gum and promptly chomped down on it, package and all. I guess a lesson in unwrapping candy first is in order, and yes, we added it to our purchase. Since he is too young for bubble gum, I took it upon myself to ensure it did not go to waste. It has been a fierce number of years since I have actually had pink yummy bubble gum and it was awesome!
So here’s to candy, childhood memories and a new generation of candy connoisseurs!
As an adult, what is a candy girl to do? Enter: the new British Invasion Sweets & Goods store in Peachland. They have been open only a short time, and I am already a fan. Wandering around the store, I realized that candy has played a surprisingly important role in my life.
I mark my first pregnancy by all of the tootsie rolls that I ate. For the second pregnancy, it was hundreds of those little red coke bottle gummy candies. Long red Twizzler licorice got me through a lot of late night/early morning nursings, and to this day remains my stock and default candy of choice.
Mo Jo’s were my first lesson in economics. I remember when they went from 1 cent each to 2 cents each. Ouch. When you only have 25 cents - that’s a big cut of the pot. My first smoke was with the package of fake gum candy cigarettes (but only until my father found them). When my sister and I played together, taffy was our store’s monetary system. We also could not get enough of the Lick-a-Stick packages – which we substituted with jello sugar when we ran out of the powder. Slurpees got me through High School and I still love mint candy, possibly because I think I’m eating something vaguely healthful. I also love jelly belly’s and anything caramel. One of my favourites is the red box of McIntosh caramel toffee. Sometimes when I visit my mom, I still search through her baking cupboard for any stray boxes she’s saving for some special dessert.
I have even started to bring up my children in the way of the candy. On our last visit to the British Invasion store (it is helpful that it’s right across from a park), my 2 year old picked up a piece of individually wrapped bubble gum and promptly chomped down on it, package and all. I guess a lesson in unwrapping candy first is in order, and yes, we added it to our purchase. Since he is too young for bubble gum, I took it upon myself to ensure it did not go to waste. It has been a fierce number of years since I have actually had pink yummy bubble gum and it was awesome!
So here’s to candy, childhood memories and a new generation of candy connoisseurs!
Thursday, May 13, 2010
CHAT ABOUT IT
I do like to talk about subjects other than my children, but sometimes it’s nice to sit down with another mother to swap stories and commiserate about our lives and our families. I have found that even if her situation is seemingly worse than mine, there is always empathy, never pity and generally lots of laughter.
One of the never-ending topics is sleep. Every book and every person says something different. At the beginning I read everything I could about getting my son to sleep, keeping him asleep, blah blah blah. The information was as exhausting and confusing as the boy himself. The tiredness that came from that first year is different than anything I’ve ever felt, it’s like a weariness that starts in your core and just radiates through your body. Of course it is getting better, but I cherish every little bit of sleep so much more now for that experience.
So a friend of mine and I had a wonderful talk about our children and their sleeping habits and how they are keeping us up at different times of the night. Her son is generally pretty good but their daughter still keeps them up until 2am or later some days. My eldest does pretty well and sleeps most nights through and the youngest has recently vacated our bed and, barring the occasional nightmare, has been sleeping; well, like a baby. It was nice to find someone in a similar situation where we could be an encouragement to each other.
The only difference is my children are 2 and 4 and her children are 19 and 21. Sigh. Someone tell me there is a break somewhere in there where I DO get some sleep?
One of the never-ending topics is sleep. Every book and every person says something different. At the beginning I read everything I could about getting my son to sleep, keeping him asleep, blah blah blah. The information was as exhausting and confusing as the boy himself. The tiredness that came from that first year is different than anything I’ve ever felt, it’s like a weariness that starts in your core and just radiates through your body. Of course it is getting better, but I cherish every little bit of sleep so much more now for that experience.
So a friend of mine and I had a wonderful talk about our children and their sleeping habits and how they are keeping us up at different times of the night. Her son is generally pretty good but their daughter still keeps them up until 2am or later some days. My eldest does pretty well and sleeps most nights through and the youngest has recently vacated our bed and, barring the occasional nightmare, has been sleeping; well, like a baby. It was nice to find someone in a similar situation where we could be an encouragement to each other.
The only difference is my children are 2 and 4 and her children are 19 and 21. Sigh. Someone tell me there is a break somewhere in there where I DO get some sleep?
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
MEMORIES
Do you have a memory from your childhood that is so random and seemingly unworthy to be remembered but it is solid and fast in your mind, embedded deeply along with the colours and the people and everything about that moment? I have many and I am starting to collect memories of MY children’s childhood that will be just as indelible.
I remember the moment when playing became for real. I remember the exact time when I looked up suddenly in a panic because the house was quiet, the TV was off and the boys were nowhere to be seen – and searching frantically for the damage that was most surely to be done (there is precedence for this feeling of anxiety so I’m not the bad guy here) and low and behold there they are, playing quietly together for over 30 minutes – ALONE. Sweet grace of God.
I will remember when the playing became purposeful and the games and play-acting started to last all day. I know exactly when they started playing together, not just beside each other, but really playing TOGETHER, with themes and processions and roles, and a story and a purpose. When I have a part in the play now, I am only in one act or the narrator or play some other very small part – it is a blessed thing when your children can play independently.
A friend of mine remembers the moment watching her son run – when he stopped running in that awkward toddler gait to a full-out stride of a young boy – a memory the boy will never share but momentous in a mother’s witness to the evolution of her offspring. When she shared that with me, it made me more watchful of the little things – realizing that just because they’ve learned to walk and talk, that there is still so much more, so many more little moments of glory and magnificence if we but take the time to notice!
So, here’s to you and your childhood memories, and another cheers to you and the memories of the stories of your children.
I remember the moment when playing became for real. I remember the exact time when I looked up suddenly in a panic because the house was quiet, the TV was off and the boys were nowhere to be seen – and searching frantically for the damage that was most surely to be done (there is precedence for this feeling of anxiety so I’m not the bad guy here) and low and behold there they are, playing quietly together for over 30 minutes – ALONE. Sweet grace of God.
I will remember when the playing became purposeful and the games and play-acting started to last all day. I know exactly when they started playing together, not just beside each other, but really playing TOGETHER, with themes and processions and roles, and a story and a purpose. When I have a part in the play now, I am only in one act or the narrator or play some other very small part – it is a blessed thing when your children can play independently.
A friend of mine remembers the moment watching her son run – when he stopped running in that awkward toddler gait to a full-out stride of a young boy – a memory the boy will never share but momentous in a mother’s witness to the evolution of her offspring. When she shared that with me, it made me more watchful of the little things – realizing that just because they’ve learned to walk and talk, that there is still so much more, so many more little moments of glory and magnificence if we but take the time to notice!
So, here’s to you and your childhood memories, and another cheers to you and the memories of the stories of your children.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
AM I THE ONLY ONE?
As a mother, sometimes I wonder if I am 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 body 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 (the one I hold the baby in) 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 the child sneezing milk out his nose?
9. Whose kid can properly order, in the right sequence, his Starbucks request? (kid’s soy steamed milk with whipped cream)
10. Who dreams of carrying a purse that is too small to put a diaper in?
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 boys? (well, hopefully I am the only one who falls in love with MY husband, but you get the point…)
15. Who jokes about ironing my baby clothes?
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 body 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 (the one I hold the baby in) 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 the child sneezing milk out his nose?
9. Whose kid can properly order, in the right sequence, his Starbucks request? (kid’s soy steamed milk with whipped cream)
10. Who dreams of carrying a purse that is too small to put a diaper in?
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 boys? (well, hopefully I am the only one who falls in love with MY husband, but you get the point…)
15. Who jokes about ironing my baby clothes?
Thursday, April 8, 2010
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)?...
My kids look like their father, 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, imagining what my offspring would look like paired with this guy or that guy. No, my life goal was actually to join a convent – I was looking into the whole Catholic thing when I met my husband to be, and well, you know what they say about 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 too, so looks like we’re all here to stay. So I should probably get around to admitting to myself that I wasn’t just yo-yo dieting for three years, that smell on my sweater really is spit up and that mommy definitely isn’t the worst name that I’ve been called.
My kids look like their father, 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, imagining what my offspring would look like paired with this guy or that guy. No, my life goal was actually to join a convent – I was looking into the whole Catholic thing when I met my husband to be, and well, you know what they say about 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 too, so looks like we’re all here to stay. So I should probably get around to admitting to myself that I wasn’t just yo-yo dieting for three years, that smell on my sweater really is spit up and that mommy definitely isn’t the worst name that I’ve been called.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
TODAY I AM MOTHER
Today I am Mother. Actually, this morning I was Rotarian and this evening I will be Wife, but in between, I am Mother. Yesterday I was salesman, secretary, PR Director, Vice President, friend, sister and for a very brief moment while drinking a beautiful latte, I was just Chantelle. But today I am Mother and today is a good day. Today I am also princess (actually I get to be Snow White – you know the scene where the 7 dwarves discover her in their beds and they are all ready to chop her up with their axes and picks, yep, that’s the scene we recreate!) and pirate and recently I am fisherman (I even get to hold the fishing rod every once in a while). I am the big fisherman and the boys are little fishermen and surprise, we catch fish. It’s fun because it’s always exciting to them. Like the 1,000th time it is still exciting! (I’m also excited about the number 1,000 because my 3¾ year old just learned to count to 1,000.)
Some days it is harder and takes more effort to stir up energy, but not today. Today the sun is shining and I can FEEL spring coming. And not just spring, but the hope and the joy and the warmth that it brings. Today my boys are at 75% hugs and 25% hits – it’s a very good day. We usually average about 50/50 so when hugs and helps outnumber hits and pushes, all is good.
Today it is not about me, and sorry, it’s not about you either. It is not even about the house or the to-do lists. Today is about them - it is about the two cheeky monkeys who have turned my living room into a farm, my bedroom into a jumping pillow pile, my kitchen into Rice Krispie central, and the balcony into a fishing boat.
Today is about explaining, while keeping a serious face, why aiming the fishing rod INTO little brother’s face, really actually isn’t a good idea and is also about wishing there was some way I could effectively sneak vegetables into Rice Krispie squares.
By the grace and strength I’ve been given to be Mother for today I am extremely grateful, and so I must complete the work of fishing and feeding and snuggling. What a good day.
Some days it is harder and takes more effort to stir up energy, but not today. Today the sun is shining and I can FEEL spring coming. And not just spring, but the hope and the joy and the warmth that it brings. Today my boys are at 75% hugs and 25% hits – it’s a very good day. We usually average about 50/50 so when hugs and helps outnumber hits and pushes, all is good.
Today it is not about me, and sorry, it’s not about you either. It is not even about the house or the to-do lists. Today is about them - it is about the two cheeky monkeys who have turned my living room into a farm, my bedroom into a jumping pillow pile, my kitchen into Rice Krispie central, and the balcony into a fishing boat.
Today is about explaining, while keeping a serious face, why aiming the fishing rod INTO little brother’s face, really actually isn’t a good idea and is also about wishing there was some way I could effectively sneak vegetables into Rice Krispie squares.
By the grace and strength I’ve been given to be Mother for today I am extremely grateful, and so I must complete the work of fishing and feeding and snuggling. What a good day.
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