Despite my aversion to baby/parenting books (see last post), I have a monthly subscription to "Today's Parent" (I can get it el cheapo on my Rogers bill). I don't generally find it all that useful (except for the occasional recipe) but I enjoy reading it and I have a certain amount of respect for the people who produce it. I mean really, props to them for putting together something that's supposed to appeal to parents of newborns and parents of teenagers. Really that's kind of like trying to create a meaningful publication for tattoo addicts and macrame enthusiasts. Anyway, one of their monthly features is a reader submitted piece on some aspect of parenting. Recently it was a piece by a woman admitting her intense shock and indeed sadness at finding out she and her partner were expecting a baby boy. Of course it goes without saying that she is now completely besotted with their gorgeous little boy but her piece spoke about how when she had imagined her life with a child, she had always imagined a girl. She didn't have anything against boys, just a long held fantasy that she would be the mother of a girl.
Reading the piece got me thinking about how aspirational parenthood is. Even before they are born, children inspire a future looking mentality where many of ones hopes and dreams reside. For many of us the decision to have kids is one we made long ago. It may not even really have been a decision - just a belief that we would one day be parents. I know that's how it was for me. I never imagined a future that didn't include having kids. I can't say I ever gave a whole lot of thought to whether or not these children would be boys or girls but reading this article reminded me that I definitely did have a vision of what my child would be like. And while I didn't experience her feelings of intense sadness, I did have many moments where my dreams of what my child would be like and who he actually was were very, very different.
He is of course perfect. Perfectly Gabriel. But from an early age it became clear that what I expected my child to be like and who Gabriel was did not always overlap. I remember eagerly looking forward to the day he would be able to grasp a crayon and scribbley masterpieces would cover my fridge. I couldn't wait to enjoy his first works of self-produced art. Let's just say that if Molly hadn't come along, our fridge would be pretty bare. Despite my efforts to engage him in arts and crafts, Gabriel never latched on. Of course he delighted and thrilled us in a million different ways but there was often a little pang of sadness when I saw swirly finger paintings on the fridges of other parents. A little sigh when the crafts that came home from drop-in were very clearly crafted by my mother-in-law or Ana, his caregiver. Now it's true that over the years I have been lucky enough to receive some lovely works of art from Gabriel but it's definitely not how he'd prefer to spend his time. Looking back I'm surprised at how long it took me to accept that this is the way Gabriel is. But I can say that I now enjoy being able to easily pick out his decidedly "minimalist" pieces of art from the display outside his classroom!
Like many parents I had always imagined and looked forward to the day my child would participate in his first school concert/recital/soccer game. We would of course be charmed as our little cutie flubbed his lines/missed the ball and gave us a little wave while doing so. Well, that bubble got burst when Gabriel flat out refused to wear the cap and gown ensemble for his pre-school "graduation" and balked heavily at the idea of walking across the stage to receive his "diploma". I watched all the other kids lined up in the caps and gowns and I can't say I didn't wonder why my kid wouldn't participate. A year later, my heart ached a little when his JK teacher asked if we were going to bother coming to the spring concert; Gabriel hadn't participated in a single rehearsal so there was little reason to imagine he'd do so at the concert. Well, we showed up and you know what, he actually stood on stage with his class for one song. He spent the second song holding a teacher's hand at the side of the stage. We considered that a huge success.
I call Gabriel my "unconventional" child. In a given situation, you can never count on him to behave as the majority of kids will. Time with this unconventional little soul has reminded me that it's good to know your own mind, to do your own thing, to stick to your guns. Conventional children wake up and want to know what the plans for the day are. Unconventional children wake up, pee, play with Lego for 3 hours and need to be reminded to eat breakfast. Unconventional children beg you not to register them for day camp "ever ever ever again" (even though they actually had fun). Unconventional children love what you thought they'd hate and hate what you thought they'd love. Unconventional children keep you on your toes.
But because I'm blessed, mother nature very kindly provided us with a child that does love to draw and perform and go willingly to day camp. The "conventional" one who pretty much always does what you expect (pretty much...). The one who's everything I imagined a child of mine would be right down to her endless desire to provide me with more scribbly drawings than I know what to do with. The one who, at age 3, eagerly went on stage and forgot to pirouette at her first dance recital.
The contrasts between my children allow me to enjoy motherhood as I imagined it to be and to experience joys I never knew were possible (remember when I mentioned he wakes, pees and plays contentedly by himself?). While I enjoy Molly's prolific artistic nature, every work from Gabriel is something to be carefully treasured. Every performance he gives, be it in a school concert or on the soccer field, is deeply appreciated because he rarely participates without some serious reservations.
Babies come in to the world with their own little agendas safely stowed in their tiny, sweet heads. As parents we have agendas of our own long before those sweet heads ever even rest on our shoulders. The magical thing about parenthood is that those agendas cannot help but become aligned. No matter what, your children cannot help but be just right for you.
October 14, 2011
September 7, 2011
buy, by, bye the book
There are a plethora of easy top ten lists to be made from parenthood. And I do love a good list! On my top ten list of dislikes are parenting books. I'd almost forgotten how very much I dislike them but for some reason I recently started trying to read "Kids Are Worth It" by Barbara Coloroso. And I was immediately reminded of my dislike. For one thing much of the advice in parenting books is oblique. Example -toddler has fit every time you try to get them dressed. Solution? - give toddler some control and choice. Offer toddler the green shirt and the blue shirt. And like magic toddler will feel happy and satisfied that they have control, choose a shirt and willingly gets dressed. Ta da! I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who had a toddler that stomped on both shirts and continued whining. So, smarty pants book, what do I do now? Usually the advice stops there.
I could go on at length about my beefs with Ms. Coloroso. I mean her heart is in the right place and she makes some good points; her theory is that kids need to suffer the natural consequences of their actions and there by learn how to regulate their own behaviour ("the gift of inner discipline"). I don't necessarily disagree but I don't want to be made to feel guilty about giving my kid a time-out. It's not always possible to get to the true root of misbehaviour and dammit, sometimes you just do it because I bloody well said so. And a good deal of her advice relates to teenagers. I can see it's just common sense that if a kid dents the folks' car he should be made to pay for the damage etc. etc. But that doesn't help me much with my kids as they are excellent drivers and our van already has some many damn dents, who cares?
But I wanted to like parenting books, I really did. Pretty much the first thing I did when I found out I was pregnant with Gabey(right after I cried and laughed and tried for 1 whole day not to spill the beans to my Mum) was buy good old "What to Expect When You're Expecting" WTEWYE gets a fair amount of flak and some of it's deserved but overall I found it pretty handy. I read a few other books while pregnant including the super scary "Birth Partner - Everything You Need to Know to Help a Woman Through Childbirth". OMG, that book contains a description of how a c-section works that is seared into my memory. Jono also read "Birth Partner" and it turned him in to the biggest nerd in our pre-natal class. I had to beg him to put his hand down as he was making the other guys (and, frankly, the pregnant ladies) look bad. But I digress. In sum, pregnancy books were overall pretty useful.
But then I came home with the babe and those helpful books became a source of heartache and frustration. There's a reason why the average baby book is about 14 times longer than the average pregnancy book. That would be because there is no average baby. I made myself crazy reading books, trying "solutions" and then weeping when they didn't work out as advertised. Why why why didn't they work? With time I eventually learned that by the time you've gone mental trying to solve a given issue, your delightful baby will have very likely gotten over that particular problem and has moved on to something else. But in the moment, with my first baby I felt for sure I had some sort of weird infant and that all other mothers were blissfully reading books, following the suggestions and having great success ('cause otherwise why are there so many baby books?). I did of course find out that wasn't true but it was hard for me to get past the belief that the solution for my problems lay in a book. And there's always one mama who's a big reader and is trying all the "expert" recommended tricks and having great success (or so she says...). But fortunately there are more mamas who tell is like it is. After diligently reading and trying "The No Cry Sleep Solution" one of my baby group mamas referred to it as the "No Sleep Cry Solution". Guess that one didn't quite work out as advertised...
So I eventually let the parenting books go. I have a couple around that I haul out occasionally for factual reference (I can never remember what temperature constitutes a fever). But until I tried reading "Kids Are Worth It" last week I hadn't read a parenting book in years. And now I can thank Ms. Coloroso for reminding me why. Now, where did I put that box of stuff that's heading to Value Village...
I could go on at length about my beefs with Ms. Coloroso. I mean her heart is in the right place and she makes some good points; her theory is that kids need to suffer the natural consequences of their actions and there by learn how to regulate their own behaviour ("the gift of inner discipline"). I don't necessarily disagree but I don't want to be made to feel guilty about giving my kid a time-out. It's not always possible to get to the true root of misbehaviour and dammit, sometimes you just do it because I bloody well said so. And a good deal of her advice relates to teenagers. I can see it's just common sense that if a kid dents the folks' car he should be made to pay for the damage etc. etc. But that doesn't help me much with my kids as they are excellent drivers and our van already has some many damn dents, who cares?
But I wanted to like parenting books, I really did. Pretty much the first thing I did when I found out I was pregnant with Gabey(right after I cried and laughed and tried for 1 whole day not to spill the beans to my Mum) was buy good old "What to Expect When You're Expecting" WTEWYE gets a fair amount of flak and some of it's deserved but overall I found it pretty handy. I read a few other books while pregnant including the super scary "Birth Partner - Everything You Need to Know to Help a Woman Through Childbirth". OMG, that book contains a description of how a c-section works that is seared into my memory. Jono also read "Birth Partner" and it turned him in to the biggest nerd in our pre-natal class. I had to beg him to put his hand down as he was making the other guys (and, frankly, the pregnant ladies) look bad. But I digress. In sum, pregnancy books were overall pretty useful.
But then I came home with the babe and those helpful books became a source of heartache and frustration. There's a reason why the average baby book is about 14 times longer than the average pregnancy book. That would be because there is no average baby. I made myself crazy reading books, trying "solutions" and then weeping when they didn't work out as advertised. Why why why didn't they work? With time I eventually learned that by the time you've gone mental trying to solve a given issue, your delightful baby will have very likely gotten over that particular problem and has moved on to something else. But in the moment, with my first baby I felt for sure I had some sort of weird infant and that all other mothers were blissfully reading books, following the suggestions and having great success ('cause otherwise why are there so many baby books?). I did of course find out that wasn't true but it was hard for me to get past the belief that the solution for my problems lay in a book. And there's always one mama who's a big reader and is trying all the "expert" recommended tricks and having great success (or so she says...). But fortunately there are more mamas who tell is like it is. After diligently reading and trying "The No Cry Sleep Solution" one of my baby group mamas referred to it as the "No Sleep Cry Solution". Guess that one didn't quite work out as advertised...
So I eventually let the parenting books go. I have a couple around that I haul out occasionally for factual reference (I can never remember what temperature constitutes a fever). But until I tried reading "Kids Are Worth It" last week I hadn't read a parenting book in years. And now I can thank Ms. Coloroso for reminding me why. Now, where did I put that box of stuff that's heading to Value Village...
July 31, 2011
is the livin' really easy?
Well, it's summer time so it must be right? Well, actually yes, the livin' is pretty easy around chez Nemethy (for the most part...). It is at this time of year over all others that I am most thankful I made the decision to quit work. Check with me on any random snowy/rainy/freezing day in January and I might not be so sure.
(Now, before I go any further a disclaimer stating that quitting work was the right decision for me and our family. This post implies nor intends judgement of families who choose any other course. There are many many many good reasons to go out to work and money might be the least of them. The concept of a "coffee break" and general lack of small children are greater. I feel the need to explain myself a little on this point as the decision of who works and how much is one of the toughest issues most families face and no one needs any one else judging their choices. And while I can't guarantee you won't be judged, I can guarantee it won't be by me.)
Okay, where was I...right, quitting work...boy, that was fun. Anyway, summer time and the stay at home Mum. A match made in heaven? Mostly. I could write an uber fair post filled with the pros and cons of how kids can best spend their summers (I'm not going to) but I know for me, as an actual person and not just as a Mum, not going out to work in the summer rocks. There, I said it. I selfishly enjoy that for the first time in my adult life, I have a tan. An awesome tan. A tan that I did not lie around working on but a tan that just happened because I spend a ton of time outside (wearing sunscreen...mostly...). I wear flip flops almost every day. I have eaten more than one giant freezie. I am hot (in a temperature sense) and happy.
But what of the children you may ask. Well, they're pretty happy too. Me being home means that they get a relaxing summer that I think really feels like a break. Lots of time to wake up late and hang out in their jammies. Plenty of time at the pool and riding their bikes. It is synergistic that the lack of need for awesomely cool summer camps is balanced by the fact that we cannot afford such camps anyway. They have both enjoyed a little free day camp and some free tennis lessons but for the most part their days have been pretty unstructured.
So, are they bored? Truthfully yes, sometimes. Gabriel told me the other day that he was in fact "sick and dying from boredom". But he's still with us so I guess that passed. That's the downside of no awesomely cool camps and a well structured routine - potential boredom. But you know what, I read just the other day that boredom is the hip new trend (Elle Canada July 2011 issue). "Boredom is Back!" they say. And without any effort at all, I am exposing my children to the trend that all the hipsters are dying to try. Genius. Except for hearing "I'm bored I'm bored I'm bored I'm bored" from time to time. And of course, the potential risk of "dying". I guess the article was in Elle, not Today's Parent so the awesomeness of boredom may only apply to fashionable, over-worked 20-somethings and not to potentially under programed small children.
So that's our summer, unstructured, outdoors, active and yes, a little bored (but remember, that's potentially a good thing now). But hopefully no one will be bored in August - we're off to sunny (please, please be sunny) Nova Scotia and PEI for 3 weeks. And that right there is what truly shows me that the quitting decision was the right one. The potential for multiple glorious weeks with my lovely and muchly missed family. A chance for four great kids to experience being cousins without Skype. Chances for so many things really. I can't wait. See you in September!
(Now, before I go any further a disclaimer stating that quitting work was the right decision for me and our family. This post implies nor intends judgement of families who choose any other course. There are many many many good reasons to go out to work and money might be the least of them. The concept of a "coffee break" and general lack of small children are greater. I feel the need to explain myself a little on this point as the decision of who works and how much is one of the toughest issues most families face and no one needs any one else judging their choices. And while I can't guarantee you won't be judged, I can guarantee it won't be by me.)
Okay, where was I...right, quitting work...boy, that was fun. Anyway, summer time and the stay at home Mum. A match made in heaven? Mostly. I could write an uber fair post filled with the pros and cons of how kids can best spend their summers (I'm not going to) but I know for me, as an actual person and not just as a Mum, not going out to work in the summer rocks. There, I said it. I selfishly enjoy that for the first time in my adult life, I have a tan. An awesome tan. A tan that I did not lie around working on but a tan that just happened because I spend a ton of time outside (wearing sunscreen...mostly...). I wear flip flops almost every day. I have eaten more than one giant freezie. I am hot (in a temperature sense) and happy.
But what of the children you may ask. Well, they're pretty happy too. Me being home means that they get a relaxing summer that I think really feels like a break. Lots of time to wake up late and hang out in their jammies. Plenty of time at the pool and riding their bikes. It is synergistic that the lack of need for awesomely cool summer camps is balanced by the fact that we cannot afford such camps anyway. They have both enjoyed a little free day camp and some free tennis lessons but for the most part their days have been pretty unstructured.
So, are they bored? Truthfully yes, sometimes. Gabriel told me the other day that he was in fact "sick and dying from boredom". But he's still with us so I guess that passed. That's the downside of no awesomely cool camps and a well structured routine - potential boredom. But you know what, I read just the other day that boredom is the hip new trend (Elle Canada July 2011 issue). "Boredom is Back!" they say. And without any effort at all, I am exposing my children to the trend that all the hipsters are dying to try. Genius. Except for hearing "I'm bored I'm bored I'm bored I'm bored" from time to time. And of course, the potential risk of "dying". I guess the article was in Elle, not Today's Parent so the awesomeness of boredom may only apply to fashionable, over-worked 20-somethings and not to potentially under programed small children.
So that's our summer, unstructured, outdoors, active and yes, a little bored (but remember, that's potentially a good thing now). But hopefully no one will be bored in August - we're off to sunny (please, please be sunny) Nova Scotia and PEI for 3 weeks. And that right there is what truly shows me that the quitting decision was the right one. The potential for multiple glorious weeks with my lovely and muchly missed family. A chance for four great kids to experience being cousins without Skype. Chances for so many things really. I can't wait. See you in September!
July 18, 2011
thanks for the memories
Not so long ago I was chatting with one of my mamas. I said that I couldn't believe that her daughter was going to be in grade 3 next year; it seemed so grown up. And she commented about how she remembered grade 3. Me too I said. What did we remember about grade 3? Quite a lot as it turns out. And grade 2, I vividly remember a lot of things about grade 2 (I had an amazing teacher that year). We were quiet for a moment, processing what this meant. In our most glib way we joked about how we'd better step up and actually start taking this parenting thing seriously. Damn, our kids are actually going to remember stuff! No more parenting freebies - now we're playing for keeps! Our glibness belied the fact that not so deep down this realization had freaked us out a bit (actually a lot).
Of course parenting matters right from the moment our little nuggets are born but knowing that memories they will carry with them for life are now being formed is a heavy responsibility. And for this reason it feels like my kids are currently residing in two different worlds. Molly is still in blissful pre-schooler land where there is plenty of drama and heartache but it comes and goes in the blink of an eye; sometimes before the tears have even dried. Sure she remembers stuff, most little kids have freakish ability to remember seemingly endless bits of minutia, but not in the way that leads to enduring memories. But for Gabriel, some of what he experiences now is going to be there in his memory for a very long time. Perhaps forever.
So, I feel acutely, more than ever, the need to get it right. The guilt of wondering if I got it wrong. Because if he is going to remember, what he learns now needs to be worth remembering. I know that every aspect of my parenting can't be perfect and that no matter good it is he will still probably remember the day(s) Mummy yelled. The disappointments. The heartaches. The times I get it wrong. Geesh. Much as I am loath to admit it, I know now for sure that everyone who told me newborns were a piece of cake compared to the struggles to come was 100% right. And yes, I know, I've still not faced any "real" struggles...yet...
But so as not to end on a heavy note, I have to say it is of course a wonderful thing to know that many of the good things Gabriel experiences now will become happy memories. Maybe even things he will tell his own kids about. Most parents have had the experience of taking a 1 year old some place amazing and feeling a regretful pang knowing that there is no way that 1 year is going to remember a damn thing about it. If you've ever spent your hard earned money on a plane ticket for an 18 month old, you know what this feels like. So I smile knowing that a lot of what Gabriel experiences now will become part of his happy memories. That more than ever, the efforts we make as parents and the opportunities we struggle to provide will affect him positively.
Of course parenting matters right from the moment our little nuggets are born but knowing that memories they will carry with them for life are now being formed is a heavy responsibility. And for this reason it feels like my kids are currently residing in two different worlds. Molly is still in blissful pre-schooler land where there is plenty of drama and heartache but it comes and goes in the blink of an eye; sometimes before the tears have even dried. Sure she remembers stuff, most little kids have freakish ability to remember seemingly endless bits of minutia, but not in the way that leads to enduring memories. But for Gabriel, some of what he experiences now is going to be there in his memory for a very long time. Perhaps forever.
So, I feel acutely, more than ever, the need to get it right. The guilt of wondering if I got it wrong. Because if he is going to remember, what he learns now needs to be worth remembering. I know that every aspect of my parenting can't be perfect and that no matter good it is he will still probably remember the day(s) Mummy yelled. The disappointments. The heartaches. The times I get it wrong. Geesh. Much as I am loath to admit it, I know now for sure that everyone who told me newborns were a piece of cake compared to the struggles to come was 100% right. And yes, I know, I've still not faced any "real" struggles...yet...
But so as not to end on a heavy note, I have to say it is of course a wonderful thing to know that many of the good things Gabriel experiences now will become happy memories. Maybe even things he will tell his own kids about. Most parents have had the experience of taking a 1 year old some place amazing and feeling a regretful pang knowing that there is no way that 1 year is going to remember a damn thing about it. If you've ever spent your hard earned money on a plane ticket for an 18 month old, you know what this feels like. So I smile knowing that a lot of what Gabriel experiences now will become part of his happy memories. That more than ever, the efforts we make as parents and the opportunities we struggle to provide will affect him positively.
The good news is your kid is going to remember how awesome today was. The bad news is your kid is going to remember how crappy tomorrow might turn out. So, as the old saying goes, we take the rough with the smooth. And all this thinking about memories has made me realize how important it is to take good care of my future memories too. So I'm trying to hold on to every wonderful thing that happens. And trying even harder to forget the crappy moments; when I yell at my kids, or burn the last 2 toaster waffles or step on Lego (goddam pointy little bricks...). I'm learning lots of hard lessons right now, but to haul out another tried and true platitude, I like to think of my parenting glass as half full.
July 6, 2011
thanks for the memories
Not so long ago I was chatting with one of my mamas. I said that I couldn't believe that her daughter was going to be in grade 3 next year; it seemed so grown up. And she commented about how she remembered grade 3. Me too I said. What did we remember about grade 3? Quite a lot as it turns out. And grade 2, I vividly remember a lot of things about grade 2 (I had an amazing teacher that year). We were quiet for a moment, processing what this meant. In our most glib way we joked about how we'd better step up and actually start taking this parenting thing seriously. Damn, our kids are actually going to remember stuff! No more parenting freebies - now we're playing for keeps! Our glibness belied the fact that not so deep down this realization had freaked us out a bit (actually a lot).
Of course parenting matters right from the moment our little nuggets are born but knowing that memories they will carry with them for life are now being formed is a heavy responsibility. And for this reason it feels like my kids are currently residing in two different worlds. Molly is still in blissful pre-schooler land where there is plenty of drama and heartache but it comes and goes in the blink of an eye; sometimes before the tears have even dried. Sure she remembers stuff, most little kids have freakish ability to remember seemingly endless bits of minutia, but not in the way that leads to enduring memories. But for Gabriel, some of what he experiences now is going to be there in his memory for a very long time. Perhaps forever.
So, I feel acutely, more than ever, the need to get it right. The guilt of wondering if I got it wrong. Because if he is going to remember, what he learns now needs to be worth remembering. I know that every aspect of my parenting can't be perfect and that no matter good it is he will still probably remember the day(s) Mummy yelled. The disappointments. The heartaches. The times I get it wrong. Geesh. Much as I am loath to admit it, I know now for sure that everyone who told me newborns were a piece of cake compared to the struggles to come was 100% right. And yes, I know, I've still not faced any "real" struggles...yet...
But so as not to end on a heavy note, I have to say it is of course a wonderful thing to know that many of the good things Gabriel experiences now will become happy memories. Maybe even things he will tell his own kids about. Most parents have had the experience of taking a 1 year old some place amazing and feeling a regretful pang knowing that there is no way that 1 year is going to remember a damn thing about it. If you've ever spent your hard earned money on a plane ticket for an 18 month old, you know what this feels like. So I smile knowing that a lot of what Gabriel experiences now will become part of his happy memories. That more than ever, the efforts we make as parents and the opportunities we struggle to provide will affect him positively.
Of course parenting matters right from the moment our little nuggets are born but knowing that memories they will carry with them for life are now being formed is a heavy responsibility. And for this reason it feels like my kids are currently residing in two different worlds. Molly is still in blissful pre-schooler land where there is plenty of drama and heartache but it comes and goes in the blink of an eye; sometimes before the tears have even dried. Sure she remembers stuff, most little kids have freakish ability to remember seemingly endless bits of minutia, but not in the way that leads to enduring memories. But for Gabriel, some of what he experiences now is going to be there in his memory for a very long time. Perhaps forever.
So, I feel acutely, more than ever, the need to get it right. The guilt of wondering if I got it wrong. Because if he is going to remember, what he learns now needs to be worth remembering. I know that every aspect of my parenting can't be perfect and that no matter good it is he will still probably remember the day(s) Mummy yelled. The disappointments. The heartaches. The times I get it wrong. Geesh. Much as I am loath to admit it, I know now for sure that everyone who told me newborns were a piece of cake compared to the struggles to come was 100% right. And yes, I know, I've still not faced any "real" struggles...yet...
But so as not to end on a heavy note, I have to say it is of course a wonderful thing to know that many of the good things Gabriel experiences now will become happy memories. Maybe even things he will tell his own kids about. Most parents have had the experience of taking a 1 year old some place amazing and feeling a regretful pang knowing that there is no way that 1 year is going to remember a damn thing about it. If you've ever spent your hard earned money on a plane ticket for an 18 month old, you know what this feels like. So I smile knowing that a lot of what Gabriel experiences now will become part of his happy memories. That more than ever, the efforts we make as parents and the opportunities we struggle to provide will affect him positively.
The good news is your kid is going to remember how awesome today was. The bad news is your kid is going to remember how crappy tomorrow might turn out. So, as the old saying goes, we take the rough with the smooth. And all this thinking about memories has made me realize how important it is to take good care of my future memories too. So I'm trying to hold on to every wonderful thing that happens. And trying even harder to forget the crappy moments; when I yell at my kids, or burn the last 2 toaster waffles or step on Lego (goddam pointy little bricks...). I'm learning lots of hard lessons right now, but to haul out another tried and true platitude, I like to think of my parenting glass as half full.
i rode my bike today*
First of all let me say that this post is not meant to come across as a sanctimonious brag about how wonderful we are as a family that bikes. Sure, we are wonderful but we also have a lot of factors working in our favor that make getting around by bike an easy choice lots of the time. For example we live within a block of an excellent, flat bike path. I hate hills so I can guarantee that if our rides involved any kind of incline, I'd be a lot less inclined to bike. So while I'd encourage everyone to bike more and car less, I know it's not always easy. And before I polish my halo too brightly, I cannot begin to pretend that we are giving up our vehicle. We're not that hardcore! But we are trying to make a conscious choice bike as often as we can and for trips that we might not typically have thought of as bike trips (we biked to the movies the other day for example).
In all honesty, the choice to bike is often easy as it allows me to avoid two of my biggest annoyances. The first is finding/paying for parking. The second is getting in our gas guzzling, AC busted, squeaky, messy van. An outing that allows me to avoid both is a total win in my book. And frankly for a lot of trips in the city, biking is by far faster than driving. By the time I factor in traffic and dealing with parking, biking often turns out to be the more efficient choice even for longer rides. And showing up some place, and watching the cars queue and pay for parking while we cruise up, lock the bikes and go is a special, special feeling.
And that's just the beginning of why we love to bike. Obviously it's healthier for us and better for the environment than driving. For me, biking is about the only actual exercise I get. But I figure hauling all 36.4 lbs of Molly, plus bike seat plus my heavy-ass bike is a pretty damn good work out. I watch Gabriel when he's riding and I can see some pretty good muscle development in those skinny little legs. Sometimes I worried we were pushing him too hard on our longer rides, but you know what, he rises to the occasion every time. Sometimes we have to turn the ride home into a race to keep him moving but he always gets there. And that's another rewarding discovery I've made biking; that my kid is tougher than I give him credit for. He's playing soccer this summer and every Monday night we bike there. That's about a 20 minute ride each way plus an hour of soccer and he can totally do it. Many rides I've been amazed how far we can go without him tiring. At 6 he can navigate tricky turns and work the gears on his bike. Biking develops a lot more than his leg muscles. It's his balance, fine motor skills and mental quickness that are also being tested.
Another surprising reward of biking is watching and listening for what happens while we ride. Sometimes we chat. Molly particularly is super chatty and spends a lot to time yammering on about this that and everything. And if I slow down I get a rousing chorus of "go mama go" from my "co-pilot". But sometimes she just chats to herself. She makes up little songs. She comments on what she sees. And I realize that this perfect mental "downtime" for her to be in her own little world (and as passenger, it's also physical downtime for her too - wait 'til next year girly!). Gabriel too gets a bit lost in his own world when we ride. I often hear him talking and singing to himself. Of course, he's got to ride and watch what he's doing but he's an accomplished enough rider that he can relax his brain a little and just be in his own world. Watching and listening to my kids I remember what my bike meant to me when I was a kid. It was freedom both literally to make journeys on my own, but also mentally to let my mind wander, to indulge my imagination. I remember fondly each and every one of the bikes I had growing up (hello purple cruiser with the awesome handle bars and the flowered banana seat). I always rode a lot but of course that was in a different time and place. I was a rural kid so biking was a safer, easier proposition than it is for my urban babies. And that's another reason I'm so glad we bike places as a family; if we didn't, I don't think my kids would really get to ride their bikes very far or for very long.
On all our travels down the bike paths we pass lots of other riders and it always makes me feel good when people smile at our little team. For some reason people love to see kids on bikes and Gabriel gets lots of positive feedback which I know makes me feel good too. Yet another reason I love to ride. And as a Torontonian, a side benefit of every bike ride is the opportunity to be one more "bike riding left wing pinko" sticking it to our bike hating mayor. An opportunity to claim our share of these city streets. And that makes it all worthwhile on the days when hauling 36.4 lbs of preschooler etc. while riding into the wind doesn't feel so rewarding.
*bonus points to any fellow Simpson's geeks who remember the origins of this line.
In all honesty, the choice to bike is often easy as it allows me to avoid two of my biggest annoyances. The first is finding/paying for parking. The second is getting in our gas guzzling, AC busted, squeaky, messy van. An outing that allows me to avoid both is a total win in my book. And frankly for a lot of trips in the city, biking is by far faster than driving. By the time I factor in traffic and dealing with parking, biking often turns out to be the more efficient choice even for longer rides. And showing up some place, and watching the cars queue and pay for parking while we cruise up, lock the bikes and go is a special, special feeling.
And that's just the beginning of why we love to bike. Obviously it's healthier for us and better for the environment than driving. For me, biking is about the only actual exercise I get. But I figure hauling all 36.4 lbs of Molly, plus bike seat plus my heavy-ass bike is a pretty damn good work out. I watch Gabriel when he's riding and I can see some pretty good muscle development in those skinny little legs. Sometimes I worried we were pushing him too hard on our longer rides, but you know what, he rises to the occasion every time. Sometimes we have to turn the ride home into a race to keep him moving but he always gets there. And that's another rewarding discovery I've made biking; that my kid is tougher than I give him credit for. He's playing soccer this summer and every Monday night we bike there. That's about a 20 minute ride each way plus an hour of soccer and he can totally do it. Many rides I've been amazed how far we can go without him tiring. At 6 he can navigate tricky turns and work the gears on his bike. Biking develops a lot more than his leg muscles. It's his balance, fine motor skills and mental quickness that are also being tested.
Another surprising reward of biking is watching and listening for what happens while we ride. Sometimes we chat. Molly particularly is super chatty and spends a lot to time yammering on about this that and everything. And if I slow down I get a rousing chorus of "go mama go" from my "co-pilot". But sometimes she just chats to herself. She makes up little songs. She comments on what she sees. And I realize that this perfect mental "downtime" for her to be in her own little world (and as passenger, it's also physical downtime for her too - wait 'til next year girly!). Gabriel too gets a bit lost in his own world when we ride. I often hear him talking and singing to himself. Of course, he's got to ride and watch what he's doing but he's an accomplished enough rider that he can relax his brain a little and just be in his own world. Watching and listening to my kids I remember what my bike meant to me when I was a kid. It was freedom both literally to make journeys on my own, but also mentally to let my mind wander, to indulge my imagination. I remember fondly each and every one of the bikes I had growing up (hello purple cruiser with the awesome handle bars and the flowered banana seat). I always rode a lot but of course that was in a different time and place. I was a rural kid so biking was a safer, easier proposition than it is for my urban babies. And that's another reason I'm so glad we bike places as a family; if we didn't, I don't think my kids would really get to ride their bikes very far or for very long.
On all our travels down the bike paths we pass lots of other riders and it always makes me feel good when people smile at our little team. For some reason people love to see kids on bikes and Gabriel gets lots of positive feedback which I know makes me feel good too. Yet another reason I love to ride. And as a Torontonian, a side benefit of every bike ride is the opportunity to be one more "bike riding left wing pinko" sticking it to our bike hating mayor. An opportunity to claim our share of these city streets. And that makes it all worthwhile on the days when hauling 36.4 lbs of preschooler etc. while riding into the wind doesn't feel so rewarding.
*bonus points to any fellow Simpson's geeks who remember the origins of this line.
May 15, 2011
it's the littlest things
Who doesn't enjoy a good list? Okay, probably lots of people but personally, I enjoy lists. I enjoy writing them and I especially enjoy ticking stuff off them. Molly seems to have inherited my fondness for lists. In fact I dictated the grocery list to her the other day and she was very attentive in writing it down (I couldn't read the finished list but that's beside the point).
So, here is a list of some of the littlest joys of parent-hood (I may be alone in some of these but others are probably pretty universal). No major events or achievements, just the funny little moments and things that give me a wee rush happiness.
Washing grass stains out of my kids clothes (other stains do not fill be me with joy but grass, for some reason, does)
Referring to my "son" or "daughter" - I always remember my old friend Julia telling me about going to get her son's birth certificate and being really overwhelmed (in a good way!) the moment she referred to her brand new baby boy as "my son".
Seeing my kid's name on their cubby or on piece of artwork at school. Molly had a brief stint in daycare just before I quit work for good and when we withdrew her (which was a happy thing!) I actually got really sad when they gave me her cubby photo to take home. I loved seeing her sweet face there on that little piece of her turf in the daycare. Same feeling when I put stuff in Gabriel's locker and I see the "Gabriel N" tag with his funny little drawing next to it.
When they say "thank you" and you can tell they actually mean it.
Another kid banging on the door asking if one of your kids can come out and play. The pleasure of this one is actually starting to wear off but for the most part it still gives me the warm fuzzies.
When your kid does/buys something for you with actual thought about what you would like. This is the big jump from assuming that EVERYONE wants plastic dinosaurs or my little ponies for their birthday. Now, they may not get this exactly right, especially at first, but when you can see the genuine intention behind the offering it's a wonderful feeling. When Gabriel was 3 he picked out a very charming bracelet for me with these giant light blue beads. As blue was his favorite colour I asked him if that's why he'd picked that one. I will never forget the sound of his little voice saying "no, it was the one I thought you'd like". Melt.
Siblings playing peacefully. Even if it only lasts for a minute. Which is good as it probably will only last for a minute. Tops.
Listening to my kids talk on the phone. Or answer the phone. This can also be heartwarming and helpful if you're making dinner and you've taught your kids how to deal with telemarketers.
There are a million more of these little moments and if you're lucky you'll find them throughout the day; there to give you a lift, maybe when you least expect it or better still, when you most need it. They don't knock your socks off like the major milestones, but major milestones can't be rushed and they don't happen everyday. So it's a good thing to find your joy in small stuff too. Otherwise you might find yourself encouraging that not quite ready to drop baby tooth or loosening up the training wheels a little too soon. And blood and tears are not going to be that memorable moment you're looking for now are they?
May 4, 2011
gone and kind of forgotten
Molly has exactly the same thing for breakfast every single day ("tella toast" - nutella on bread, that is not actually toasted, and apple juice). She doesn't eat the crusts but she does take great care to set them up neatly on her plate so they form the outline of the slice with the middle gone. Every day the same breakie, same ritual with the crust. And everyday I have to then wipe the nutella off her cheeks. For face wiping I have a charming stack of ancient baby facecloths some of which I think were actually from Gabriel's babyhood so let's just say they are well used. Anyway, all of this atmospheric set-up is actually leading to a point that has nothing to do with nutella or disintegrating face cloths (yay!). As I wiped Molly's face this morning it struck me that I really don't have to wipe Gabe's face much any more. He wants to do it himself and that's one more little tedious task of parenthood gone. And I was thinking about all the other mundane parts of being a parent that disappear into our rear view mirrors without a second look or thought. Some you never even notice they are gone. We remember the monumental baby to kid milestones (the last diaper, the last night in the crib) but many tasks and things start off as a big part of a parent's life and then...just kind of slip away...
I'm thinking of face/bum wiping, carrying a diaper bag, sippy cups, bottles and plastic dishes, stair gates, using a stroller, baby food, delightful word mispronunciations. I'm probably forgetting lots of things because, well, that's what this list is, the incidental, easily forgotten stuff.
Because Molly's only four some of those things still apply in our house though not for Gabriel. Can I remember the last time he used a sippy cup? Nope. I'm not sorry he's moved beyond these things but more than ever these days I feel like I'm very close to being out of a certain phase of parenting. All the special gizmos and gadgets for babies and toddlers are no longer relevant. Soon I won't need to go down the baby aisle in the grocery store. I notice Mums with older children and wonder if they remember what it's like to carry crackers and wipes in your purse. Do they remember the last time they had to help button their kid's jeans? I look at my kids and I realize that they are indeed kids; not babies, not toddlers. The drive for independence is finally somewhat matched by the ability to actually be independent.
I love watching my kids grow and I'm not really sentimental and wishing to hold on to the little kid years. But I am going to try and enjoy every part of parenting a 4-year old knowing that there are lots of little things that will soon be gone from my mummy repertoire. But though she says it with great flourish and panache, I shall not be at all sorry to never ever again hear the cry from the loo "buuuuuuuuuuuuuum wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipe".
I'm thinking of face/bum wiping, carrying a diaper bag, sippy cups, bottles and plastic dishes, stair gates, using a stroller, baby food, delightful word mispronunciations. I'm probably forgetting lots of things because, well, that's what this list is, the incidental, easily forgotten stuff.
Because Molly's only four some of those things still apply in our house though not for Gabriel. Can I remember the last time he used a sippy cup? Nope. I'm not sorry he's moved beyond these things but more than ever these days I feel like I'm very close to being out of a certain phase of parenting. All the special gizmos and gadgets for babies and toddlers are no longer relevant. Soon I won't need to go down the baby aisle in the grocery store. I notice Mums with older children and wonder if they remember what it's like to carry crackers and wipes in your purse. Do they remember the last time they had to help button their kid's jeans? I look at my kids and I realize that they are indeed kids; not babies, not toddlers. The drive for independence is finally somewhat matched by the ability to actually be independent.
I love watching my kids grow and I'm not really sentimental and wishing to hold on to the little kid years. But I am going to try and enjoy every part of parenting a 4-year old knowing that there are lots of little things that will soon be gone from my mummy repertoire. But though she says it with great flourish and panache, I shall not be at all sorry to never ever again hear the cry from the loo "buuuuuuuuuuuuuum wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipe".
April 15, 2011
i love my mamas
Just to be clear I have but one actual Mama*. And she is Mum or Mummy - never Mama or Mom. I love her dearly and she truly is both a magnificent mother and friend. But that is perhaps another post. The maternal types referred to in the title are not in fact my mamas biologically speaking and truthfully I don't think I can really claim possession of them. But these mamas are my network, my support system and my "co-workers" (really - we even had a holiday party. But without the actual office part). And none of what I just said in that sentence really sums up what these mamas mean to me. In this post I will brag about "my" mamas while knowing that many moms are lucky enough to find a group of like-minded mothers that they click with. I know we are not the only group of supportive, friendly, wine drinking, socializing mothers out there. But in the way that every mother knows that her kids are the cutest, I know that I am right when I say that my mamas are the best (and also the cutest).
Of course I see my mamas, at least some of them, almost every day and so I think about them a lot. But the start of a new moms and babies group at our school really got me thinking about the bonds mothers form. I was watching the moms and babies arrive the other day, mostly one by one and I got nostalgic thinking about when I went to my very first moms and babies group when Gabriel was about 2 months old. Those moms saved my sanity. Literally. Right about that time my doctor diagnosed me PPD and while I know anti-depressants helped, it was meeting those moms and sharing experiences with them that really made the difference. I felt about a thousand times better from the first day I met them. Over the years we've mostly fallen out of touch mostly because almost all of us have since moved from that neighborhood. But I will never forget those moms.
So watching the moms walk into the school I couldn't help but wonder if there was one among them who was going to have her sanity saved. If this was going to be the beginning of a whole new network of mamas. I hope so. Because like many moms I know how an awesome gang of mamas can change your whole parenting experience. For the better.
My mamas - the best. They really are. For one thing I enjoy each and every one of them as a person. They are people I could have been friends with under any circumstance. We're a delightfully mixed bag of bags (ahem); some at home, some at work, some doing both. Professionally our backgrounds are varied. But our kids are all roughly the same ages (in some cases best buddies) and they all go to one of two neighborhood schools. Aside from actually seeing my kid at 3:30, the other highlight is seeing what mamas are going to be around and enjoying a quick chat. If the weather's good we often hit up the park and we all enjoy chatting and ignoring our kids together. Over the years we've had semi-regular wine evenings and shared a number of parties and outings. But the socializing is only part of the picture. Any mamas can chin-wag and drink wine. Here's why my mamas are really the best.
Perfect example two days ago. I was totally wiped out having been up half the night feeling sick. Molly's birthday was on the horizon (today in fact!) and I needed to bake various things for her various celebrations. And Jono was (and is still) in Texas working. It was a shitty rainy day so I thought of inviting two of Molly's buddies over (they are brothers) to play. Instead, their awesome Mama invites Molly to play AND offers to feed her lunch. Did I mention that these brothers also have a 2 year old sister? So that's going to be 4 kids under 6 in her house on a rainy afternoon. And I got to go home and make cupcakes - alone. Awesome right? Totally saved my butt and gave me a break on a day when I was feeling like absolute crap (of course by "break" I mean that I baked a million cupcakes, roasted a squash to make soup and cooked a chicken for supper).
And this is totally typical of my mamas (in fact just today another awesome mama hosted my kids at an impromptu Friday party.) We make each other dinner, look after each others kids and generally cover each others asses. I always feel like I'm receiving more ass covering than I'm giving but I know we do things for each other in ways that are not always directly reciprocal. You do for me and I end up doing for someone else. We all know that it's a karmic circle of mothering and childcare.
So I love my mamas. Part of the reason I knew I could quit work and be happy at home with the kids was knowing that I'd have these mamas as co-workers. Parenting can be isolating especially when you stay home full time. You need other adults to interact with. You need that friendly ear and the reassuring response that tells you that someone else's kid is totally doing that weird/worrying/annoying thing too. Having another mother and her kids over for a play date and a cup of tea can turn even the most blah day into something a whole lot better. And when that mother then offers to take your kid back to her house for dinner, a movie and a sleepover, well, then you know you hit the jack-pot. I truly mean it when I say I'm rich in everything but money. I'm definitely rich in mamas**.
*I also have an AMAZING mother-in-law whom I adore. And not just because she helps look after my kids. She also gives me free facials ;)
** new mamas are always welcome!
Of course I see my mamas, at least some of them, almost every day and so I think about them a lot. But the start of a new moms and babies group at our school really got me thinking about the bonds mothers form. I was watching the moms and babies arrive the other day, mostly one by one and I got nostalgic thinking about when I went to my very first moms and babies group when Gabriel was about 2 months old. Those moms saved my sanity. Literally. Right about that time my doctor diagnosed me PPD and while I know anti-depressants helped, it was meeting those moms and sharing experiences with them that really made the difference. I felt about a thousand times better from the first day I met them. Over the years we've mostly fallen out of touch mostly because almost all of us have since moved from that neighborhood. But I will never forget those moms.
So watching the moms walk into the school I couldn't help but wonder if there was one among them who was going to have her sanity saved. If this was going to be the beginning of a whole new network of mamas. I hope so. Because like many moms I know how an awesome gang of mamas can change your whole parenting experience. For the better.
My mamas - the best. They really are. For one thing I enjoy each and every one of them as a person. They are people I could have been friends with under any circumstance. We're a delightfully mixed bag of bags (ahem); some at home, some at work, some doing both. Professionally our backgrounds are varied. But our kids are all roughly the same ages (in some cases best buddies) and they all go to one of two neighborhood schools. Aside from actually seeing my kid at 3:30, the other highlight is seeing what mamas are going to be around and enjoying a quick chat. If the weather's good we often hit up the park and we all enjoy chatting and ignoring our kids together. Over the years we've had semi-regular wine evenings and shared a number of parties and outings. But the socializing is only part of the picture. Any mamas can chin-wag and drink wine. Here's why my mamas are really the best.
Perfect example two days ago. I was totally wiped out having been up half the night feeling sick. Molly's birthday was on the horizon (today in fact!) and I needed to bake various things for her various celebrations. And Jono was (and is still) in Texas working. It was a shitty rainy day so I thought of inviting two of Molly's buddies over (they are brothers) to play. Instead, their awesome Mama invites Molly to play AND offers to feed her lunch. Did I mention that these brothers also have a 2 year old sister? So that's going to be 4 kids under 6 in her house on a rainy afternoon. And I got to go home and make cupcakes - alone. Awesome right? Totally saved my butt and gave me a break on a day when I was feeling like absolute crap (of course by "break" I mean that I baked a million cupcakes, roasted a squash to make soup and cooked a chicken for supper).
And this is totally typical of my mamas (in fact just today another awesome mama hosted my kids at an impromptu Friday party.) We make each other dinner, look after each others kids and generally cover each others asses. I always feel like I'm receiving more ass covering than I'm giving but I know we do things for each other in ways that are not always directly reciprocal. You do for me and I end up doing for someone else. We all know that it's a karmic circle of mothering and childcare.
So I love my mamas. Part of the reason I knew I could quit work and be happy at home with the kids was knowing that I'd have these mamas as co-workers. Parenting can be isolating especially when you stay home full time. You need other adults to interact with. You need that friendly ear and the reassuring response that tells you that someone else's kid is totally doing that weird/worrying/annoying thing too. Having another mother and her kids over for a play date and a cup of tea can turn even the most blah day into something a whole lot better. And when that mother then offers to take your kid back to her house for dinner, a movie and a sleepover, well, then you know you hit the jack-pot. I truly mean it when I say I'm rich in everything but money. I'm definitely rich in mamas**.
*I also have an AMAZING mother-in-law whom I adore. And not just because she helps look after my kids. She also gives me free facials ;)
** new mamas are always welcome!
April 12, 2011
zero income? really?
I sometimes like to say (well, maybe "like" is the wrong word) that we are at times a "zero income" family. Really? Well, technically yes. My employers (Gabriel and Molly) are generous in many ways. Financially generous is not one of those ways. Jono works free-lance as a television production manager. So, if he's not working, there's zero income. When people find out about this slightly loopy situation I often see a distinct look of disbelief flash across their faces. Sometimes people say "oh, you're so philosophical not worrying about your situation". I think what they really mean is "why the *&$% aren't you worried???". Truth is I am sometimes but no matter what anybody else thinks, I know we made the best possible decision for our family. Are we crazy? Irresponsible? Stupid? Perhaps. But let me tell you why I believe we are not.
So, how does one get to become a zero income family by choice? What is the thought process that would lead seemingly sane and rational adults to choose to live with such financial insecurity? Well, in our defense let me say that I have tried every variation possible when it comes to paid employment. And by every variation I guess I really mean full time and part time. After my maternity leave with Molly I went back to work full time and that felt really swell (honestly it did!) for about 2 months. And then it just started to feel really really stressful. My job as a doer of everything at a small consulting company was exceptionally time consuming and emotionally demanding. Neither Jono nor I had a 9-5 existance so almost every day we played a game of chicken to see who was going to leave work first to be home at 6 so our caregiver could leave. And it was pretty much always me that threw in the towel and headed home leaving a pile of incomplete tasks. Doing work from home in the evenings (at least checking email) was pretty standard. It felt like I had about 2 hours a day with the kids and I was rushing them off to bed so I could deal with some work issue. I felt disconnected from their lives and totally stressed out. We were all eating lot of rice and fishsticks. It was like I was doing a crap job as an employee and as mother. So with Jono working a relatively long term contract, we decided that I would quit.
In retrospect I picked a bad day to tell my boss I was quitting. Many wacky things were happening and she was about to head out of town. But she was often on the road so I sort of had to seize the opportunity when we were actually in the office together. Her response was "no, you can't quit, will you work part time?". I probably should have said "no" knowing full well where that would lead but I thought "what the heck, if it doesn't work out I can quit - again"! So I worked 2 days a week. And for a while I really did only work 2 days a week and it seemed like I'd found the best of both worlds. But not surprisingly work got increasingly hectic and more and more of my time at home with the kids was spent trying to do my job. Molly would nap and I'd park Gabriel in front of "Thomas" and I'd try to squeeze in some calls and emails. A friend started watching Molly while Gabriel was at school and pretty soon I was working the mornings of my 3 days at home.
After about 8 months it became clear things the "part-time" thing wasn't working. But things were totally crappy on the work front for Jono. So we made the decision for me to work full-time again. And of course then Jono found an awesome gig and then we were scrambling to try and sort out child care. We cobbled together this crazy hodge-podge of mother-in-law and daycare but we still had one day a week with no childcare. That day was super exciting! Every week was a fun game of "what's going to happen on Thursday"! More playing chicken over who would sacrifice work time to do childcare. Stressful is not the word. After about 2 1/2 months I was losing my mind. I was disconnected from the kids and our weekends were a whirlwind of chores and errands - not fun family time.
It was the Thanksgiving weekend of 2009 and I remember breaking down in tears knowing that I had no will to go on like this. It was clear that my job could never be part time (hell, it was more than full time!) so there was only one choice left** - I had to quit. Again. When Jono said "quit your job" and handed me a Kleenex it was like a million tonne weight was lifted off my shoulders. So, after calling Jono about 5 times to make sure we were serious, I quit. Again. My boss didn't try to talk me in to staying this time. We both knew we'd tried all the options. To her credit she'd given me a tremendous amount of flexibility to try and make some variation of my job work for both of us. Having tried so many options, I knew what was going to work best for our family - a parent at home full time.
18 months later and we still know we made the right decision. Jono's work has been pretty steady but it's mostly shorter contracts so we are constantly wondering what's going to happen next. We had some savings and well, now we don't really. I can't say it's not stressful, because it is frankly. But we like to say it's a better quality stress. We're all happier and healthier. The weekends are devoted to family. Jono's work is really crazy and me being at home allows him to use whatever non-work time he has to just be with the kids without having to worry about doing anything else. For now, this works for us. Someday I'll go back to work. But I'll figure that out later...
When I was in grade 2, my class had a "special of the week". The special person would be interviewed and our teacher filled a big sheet of lined paper with all the information about you. I remember you even got to choose the marker colour - I chose red. I also remember what I said I wanted to be when I grew up - a mother. Turns out my grade 2 self was right. But I do wonder how things worked out for the all aspiring fashion designers, marine biologists and astronauts...
**Now, you might be thinking "why didn't Mr. Freelance remove himself from the job market and stay home with the kids?". Indeed we considered that but unlike me Jono actually liked his job. His income was better and well, how shall I put this...he didn't really want to stay home with the kids full time. He's an amazing Dad and he totally could do it, but he didn't really feel he'd be satisfied by it the way I knew I would be.
So, how does one get to become a zero income family by choice? What is the thought process that would lead seemingly sane and rational adults to choose to live with such financial insecurity? Well, in our defense let me say that I have tried every variation possible when it comes to paid employment. And by every variation I guess I really mean full time and part time. After my maternity leave with Molly I went back to work full time and that felt really swell (honestly it did!) for about 2 months. And then it just started to feel really really stressful. My job as a doer of everything at a small consulting company was exceptionally time consuming and emotionally demanding. Neither Jono nor I had a 9-5 existance so almost every day we played a game of chicken to see who was going to leave work first to be home at 6 so our caregiver could leave. And it was pretty much always me that threw in the towel and headed home leaving a pile of incomplete tasks. Doing work from home in the evenings (at least checking email) was pretty standard. It felt like I had about 2 hours a day with the kids and I was rushing them off to bed so I could deal with some work issue. I felt disconnected from their lives and totally stressed out. We were all eating lot of rice and fishsticks. It was like I was doing a crap job as an employee and as mother. So with Jono working a relatively long term contract, we decided that I would quit.
In retrospect I picked a bad day to tell my boss I was quitting. Many wacky things were happening and she was about to head out of town. But she was often on the road so I sort of had to seize the opportunity when we were actually in the office together. Her response was "no, you can't quit, will you work part time?". I probably should have said "no" knowing full well where that would lead but I thought "what the heck, if it doesn't work out I can quit - again"! So I worked 2 days a week. And for a while I really did only work 2 days a week and it seemed like I'd found the best of both worlds. But not surprisingly work got increasingly hectic and more and more of my time at home with the kids was spent trying to do my job. Molly would nap and I'd park Gabriel in front of "Thomas" and I'd try to squeeze in some calls and emails. A friend started watching Molly while Gabriel was at school and pretty soon I was working the mornings of my 3 days at home.
After about 8 months it became clear things the "part-time" thing wasn't working. But things were totally crappy on the work front for Jono. So we made the decision for me to work full-time again. And of course then Jono found an awesome gig and then we were scrambling to try and sort out child care. We cobbled together this crazy hodge-podge of mother-in-law and daycare but we still had one day a week with no childcare. That day was super exciting! Every week was a fun game of "what's going to happen on Thursday"! More playing chicken over who would sacrifice work time to do childcare. Stressful is not the word. After about 2 1/2 months I was losing my mind. I was disconnected from the kids and our weekends were a whirlwind of chores and errands - not fun family time.
It was the Thanksgiving weekend of 2009 and I remember breaking down in tears knowing that I had no will to go on like this. It was clear that my job could never be part time (hell, it was more than full time!) so there was only one choice left** - I had to quit. Again. When Jono said "quit your job" and handed me a Kleenex it was like a million tonne weight was lifted off my shoulders. So, after calling Jono about 5 times to make sure we were serious, I quit. Again. My boss didn't try to talk me in to staying this time. We both knew we'd tried all the options. To her credit she'd given me a tremendous amount of flexibility to try and make some variation of my job work for both of us. Having tried so many options, I knew what was going to work best for our family - a parent at home full time.
18 months later and we still know we made the right decision. Jono's work has been pretty steady but it's mostly shorter contracts so we are constantly wondering what's going to happen next. We had some savings and well, now we don't really. I can't say it's not stressful, because it is frankly. But we like to say it's a better quality stress. We're all happier and healthier. The weekends are devoted to family. Jono's work is really crazy and me being at home allows him to use whatever non-work time he has to just be with the kids without having to worry about doing anything else. For now, this works for us. Someday I'll go back to work. But I'll figure that out later...
When I was in grade 2, my class had a "special of the week". The special person would be interviewed and our teacher filled a big sheet of lined paper with all the information about you. I remember you even got to choose the marker colour - I chose red. I also remember what I said I wanted to be when I grew up - a mother. Turns out my grade 2 self was right. But I do wonder how things worked out for the all aspiring fashion designers, marine biologists and astronauts...
**Now, you might be thinking "why didn't Mr. Freelance remove himself from the job market and stay home with the kids?". Indeed we considered that but unlike me Jono actually liked his job. His income was better and well, how shall I put this...he didn't really want to stay home with the kids full time. He's an amazing Dad and he totally could do it, but he didn't really feel he'd be satisfied by it the way I knew I would be.
April 6, 2011
tofu is tofu
Picky kids. Peeved parents. Blah blah blah. I share the grief of food struggles but I'm not gonna' write a word about how to get your kids to eat better/more/politely. Mostly because I don't know how. But, as I made dinner the other night I was thinking about the amusing food lies parents, myself included, tell kids. My personal favorite "no crackers, dinner will be ready in 2 minutes" (uttered as water is just about to boil). Mainly I was thinking of all those "sneaky" foods that parents are currently being urged to prepare. Personally I'm not into the effort but occasionally I step up and try to stick a few extra nutrients in. But what I do enjoy is dreaming up answers (and watching others do the same) when confronted with questions regarding the contents of say, a given muffin; Nooooooo, no, those chunks are NOT sweet potatoes. What are they? This is how stay at home mothers (theoretically the ones with time to sneak potatoes into muffins) keep their minds limber. Given that I'm too lazy make purees and sneak stuff in, I don't often have to lie about individually suspicious ingredients. Mostly I lie about what something actually is. Here are some of my favorite fibs and fool-ups (mine and others) -
- All juice is concentrated and needs to be diluted.
- Quinoa is couscous. Bulgar is couscous. Every grainy side dish type thing is couscous. Because they like couscous.
- For my niece there was only "chicken". Thanks to her we never had "turkey", not even at Thanksgiving.
- At our house chicken is chicken but pork and beef are "meat"
- In a story that is now family lore, my nephew once demanded "fruit". After many offers of everything from oranges to kumquats, it turned out that "fruit" was cherries.
- Frozen yogurt is ice cream (actually I think that's kind of true).
- Yogurt is pudding.
- Gnocchi is pasta.
Now, even though I'm too lazy to be "sneaky" doesn't mean I don't want my picky kids to eat better. I also want us to eat less meat. But I don't want us to eat pasta every night (though I can think of one person in our house who'd be totally cool with that). So, maybe you can guess where I'm going with this...TOFU!
Some months ago I found a recipe for tofu and thought maybe maybe maybe I could get the kids to eat it. It was a) fried and b) had sugar in the marinade, so I had reason be hopeful. So I bought a block 'o tofu and made sesame tofu sticks. And put them on the polar bear plate and the tiger plate, put those plates in front of their respective owners and waited. Naturally I was asked "what's for dinner". (Do all kids do this even when the food is on the plate in front of them?) But what was for dinner? Was it "chicken"? "Meat"? I couldn't believe I hadn't thought up an answer the whole damn time I was cooking. So you know what I said? "It's tofu". And you know what else? They ATE IT!!!!!* But I still lie plenty. Though it is good to know you can sometimes get away with the truth.(*Okay, I admit I brag a little about the fact they will eat tofu but I figure I've earned the right to tout this triumph in the face of innumerable food failures past and present. Molly's food hang-ups could fill a long and very depressing book. She only drinks apple juice, eats exactly the same thing for breakfast every day, won't eat pasta with any kind of sauce, won't eat most meat, won't eat apples with skin, won't eat eggs...the list goes on and on. )
March 31, 2011
a little over dressed
If I asked you if you if you'd rather show up at an event overdressed or underdressed, I'm pretty sure you'd say the former rather than the latter. I guess it's better to be a little bit too fancy than be slumming in jeans when all around you look glam. For most of us, this strategy applies to the occasional parties and functions where we find ourselves unsure of the dresscode. For Molly, to be attired in a ballgown while surrounded by folks in jeans and yoga pants is a daily occurance.
For those who know Molly, her personal style is well known; girly. Her level of devotion to her Sleeping Beauty dress is such that my mother-in-law refers to it as her "uniform". It is almost unheard of for her to wear pants. Leggings under a dress are okay but actual pants are not. She is very fond of accessories and takes great care to choose an assortment to compliment her look. Today she had change out of her Sleeping Beauty dress because we couldn't find a tiara. And Sleeping Beauty wears a tiara. Thank god Cinderalla wears a hairband. I swear I'm not making this up. She is very fond of Disney Princesses and has a wide range of items bearing their various liknesses.
It's no secret to Molly that I'm not really fond of her sartorial choices. Someone once complimented her on her outfit and her response was "thanks, my Mummy hates pink". The roots of this dislike are varied. For one thing I'm a jeans and t-shirts kind of girl. Sure, I like to slip on a frock and heels from time to time but my wardrobe is mostly about function, not fashion (okay, fine, my wardrobe is mostly about what's on sale at Zellers). I really can't wrap my head around choosing to wear a dress and tights on a daily basis.
Her fancy outfits are a daily reminder of my many failed efforts to bring her look more in line with my vision for how little girls should dress. I once swore she would never wear the princess dresses out of the house. I can't now pin-point the moment that intention went out the window; I only know that one day I was standing in a grocery store with a little girl in a Sleeping Beauty dress and this little girl was my daughter. And I was eating my words. I used to insist that she had to wear a complete "proper" outfit under the princess dress (my logic was that she might need to remove the dress in case we went to the park - turns out you can climb the monkey bars in gown if you're suitably motivated). I have tried endlessly to get her to wear pants. I pushed the sensible shoes. Over time all these efforts and more have fallen by the wayside. I may have given up trying but it didn't mean I was any happier with her clothing choices.
The main reason for my dislike, of course, are the ideas and images that go hand in hand with all this super-girly behaviour. The messaging in the Disney Princess books literally makes my skin crawl. In my mind looking like a girly-girly is equated with all sorts of behaviours and beliefs that I don't want anywhere near my girl. I sure don't want Molly thinking she's not up to any task, that her main purpose is to be a pretty face, or that she needs to be focusing on getting a prince to marry her.
But in the course of agonizing over what to buy her ladyship for Christmas, my wise Mummy made a very astute observation; did we agonize so much over what to buy Gabriel? The answer was no. From Thomas to Transformers to Lego, we've pretty much gone with whatever he was in to. So is it fair to deprive Molly of the things that so clearly make her happy? Is it fair to try and make her wear jeans when she doesn't want to? Am I really imparting morals in doing so or just coming off as a mean, unfair Mummy? Slowly I've come to realize that it's not only a waste of time trying to change her ways, saying she can't wear a fancy dress doesn't actually teach her anything about the kind of person I want her to be. If I think there are messages out there that aren't a good influence, I need to face them head-on.
So, I'm trying to stress less and enjoy the quirky little pink person that she is. I still don't like the dresses. Or the tiaras. Or the satin gloves (she got gloves for Christmas). But I love Molly. And I tell myself that there will be many chances over the years to tell her that she can be anything, do anything, go anywhere. That she doesn't need a prince to help her do any of it, but she can, if she wants to, do it all in a dress. I'm 100% sure about that last part because she shows me everyday.
For those who know Molly, her personal style is well known; girly. Her level of devotion to her Sleeping Beauty dress is such that my mother-in-law refers to it as her "uniform". It is almost unheard of for her to wear pants. Leggings under a dress are okay but actual pants are not. She is very fond of accessories and takes great care to choose an assortment to compliment her look. Today she had change out of her Sleeping Beauty dress because we couldn't find a tiara. And Sleeping Beauty wears a tiara. Thank god Cinderalla wears a hairband. I swear I'm not making this up. She is very fond of Disney Princesses and has a wide range of items bearing their various liknesses.
It's no secret to Molly that I'm not really fond of her sartorial choices. Someone once complimented her on her outfit and her response was "thanks, my Mummy hates pink". The roots of this dislike are varied. For one thing I'm a jeans and t-shirts kind of girl. Sure, I like to slip on a frock and heels from time to time but my wardrobe is mostly about function, not fashion (okay, fine, my wardrobe is mostly about what's on sale at Zellers). I really can't wrap my head around choosing to wear a dress and tights on a daily basis.
Her fancy outfits are a daily reminder of my many failed efforts to bring her look more in line with my vision for how little girls should dress. I once swore she would never wear the princess dresses out of the house. I can't now pin-point the moment that intention went out the window; I only know that one day I was standing in a grocery store with a little girl in a Sleeping Beauty dress and this little girl was my daughter. And I was eating my words. I used to insist that she had to wear a complete "proper" outfit under the princess dress (my logic was that she might need to remove the dress in case we went to the park - turns out you can climb the monkey bars in gown if you're suitably motivated). I have tried endlessly to get her to wear pants. I pushed the sensible shoes. Over time all these efforts and more have fallen by the wayside. I may have given up trying but it didn't mean I was any happier with her clothing choices.
The main reason for my dislike, of course, are the ideas and images that go hand in hand with all this super-girly behaviour. The messaging in the Disney Princess books literally makes my skin crawl. In my mind looking like a girly-girly is equated with all sorts of behaviours and beliefs that I don't want anywhere near my girl. I sure don't want Molly thinking she's not up to any task, that her main purpose is to be a pretty face, or that she needs to be focusing on getting a prince to marry her.
But in the course of agonizing over what to buy her ladyship for Christmas, my wise Mummy made a very astute observation; did we agonize so much over what to buy Gabriel? The answer was no. From Thomas to Transformers to Lego, we've pretty much gone with whatever he was in to. So is it fair to deprive Molly of the things that so clearly make her happy? Is it fair to try and make her wear jeans when she doesn't want to? Am I really imparting morals in doing so or just coming off as a mean, unfair Mummy? Slowly I've come to realize that it's not only a waste of time trying to change her ways, saying she can't wear a fancy dress doesn't actually teach her anything about the kind of person I want her to be. If I think there are messages out there that aren't a good influence, I need to face them head-on.
So, I'm trying to stress less and enjoy the quirky little pink person that she is. I still don't like the dresses. Or the tiaras. Or the satin gloves (she got gloves for Christmas). But I love Molly. And I tell myself that there will be many chances over the years to tell her that she can be anything, do anything, go anywhere. That she doesn't need a prince to help her do any of it, but she can, if she wants to, do it all in a dress. I'm 100% sure about that last part because she shows me everyday.
March 25, 2011
amazing barfing girl
I have this great piece about Molly pretty much ready to post. But Molly is sick. So it doesn't feel right to post it now. So instead I'm posting about having a sick little girl who is sick for mysterious reasons. I'm very very glad that all her tests today came back clear but I would really really like to know why she is still throwing up and having excruciating tummy pain. But as gloomy as that sounds, there are many bright spots. And I guess this is a good post topic - the resilience of kids.
Moll's been under the weather for a week now. But when she's feeling good she's skipping and biking (well she was before the damn snow) and arguing with her brother and taking good care of her luvies. How the heck does she have the energy to skip? The last actual real meal she ate and held down was lunch 7 days ago! Everyone knows kids have reserves and energy that mere adults dream of having. It is beyond all logic and comprehension that she has the desire to do anything other than sleep. But yesterday after listlessly lying around at the doctor's office she has a strong desire to chase her brother and demand cheetos from the vending machine. Just watching her get sick kills any desire I might have for cheetos. And at the hospital today with half a bag of saline in her system she was bouncing around the room and demanding that I change the TV channel. (Is it just me or is a trip to Sick Kids kind of like a kids dream come true? I mean aside from the potential needles and tests, there are private rooms with TV, more stickers than you could dream of, freezies and she got a stuffed dragon for being brave with the IV!)
So here we are; every time she stops being sick I pray that this will be the last bout. She's sleeping now and every thing is crossed that she won't be sick again. Get well soon brave and spunky girl.
Moll's been under the weather for a week now. But when she's feeling good she's skipping and biking (well she was before the damn snow) and arguing with her brother and taking good care of her luvies. How the heck does she have the energy to skip? The last actual real meal she ate and held down was lunch 7 days ago! Everyone knows kids have reserves and energy that mere adults dream of having. It is beyond all logic and comprehension that she has the desire to do anything other than sleep. But yesterday after listlessly lying around at the doctor's office she has a strong desire to chase her brother and demand cheetos from the vending machine. Just watching her get sick kills any desire I might have for cheetos. And at the hospital today with half a bag of saline in her system she was bouncing around the room and demanding that I change the TV channel. (Is it just me or is a trip to Sick Kids kind of like a kids dream come true? I mean aside from the potential needles and tests, there are private rooms with TV, more stickers than you could dream of, freezies and she got a stuffed dragon for being brave with the IV!)
So here we are; every time she stops being sick I pray that this will be the last bout. She's sleeping now and every thing is crossed that she won't be sick again. Get well soon brave and spunky girl.
March 21, 2011
It's hard to guess - stop trying
“Hey Gabriel! Get on the D!”. The words come through our open kitchen window. Finally it’s a mild afternoon and the kids are playing ball hockey. I’m listening because my two are part of the fray. I really notice that comment because the Gabriel who needs to get on the “D” is mine.
It’s just a comment between kids playing but I’m immediately anxious, waiting to hear what’s going happen next. Does he care he’s getting yelled at? Does he even know what “the D” is? I’m hoping it won’t end in tears. When social/sporty things get challenging for Gabriel it’s not unusual for him to give up entirely. Which, in true maternal guilt fashion, I interpret as a failure on my part. But no, the game continues, with Gabriel! Maybe he’s figured out what “D” is?
Moments later I hear crying. I head out and see Gabriel being escorted home by one of the older girls. “He got hit in the face with a slap shot, whatever that is” she tells me. (She doesn’t know what a slap shot is????.). Gabriel is in tears and one hand is clamped firmly on his right cheek. I simultaneously hug him and try to peel his hand away. His cheek is flaming red and I gently open his mouth, scared I’m going to see blood and broken teeth. But I see neither. Aside from a tiny drop of blood on his lip (which is probably from them being chapped) he is perfectly fine. But I lead him home, relieved that he can “gracefully” exit the game with a good excuse before he ends up quitting in frustration. “No, I want to keep playing”. He’s already pulling away from me and heading back to the game. And these are the moments in parenting when you are reminded that you might as well give up trying to guess what’s going to happen next.
Another recent example of this lack of predictability comes courtesy of Gabe’s best buddy, D. We've recently noticed that Gabriel has developed a facial tic. He periodically takes very exaggerated deep breaths in. He opens his mouth wide and you can clearly hear him take a gulp of air. And within the past couple of weeks it’s been happening with increasing frequency. It seemed inevitable that someone aside from family was going to notice and ask about it. And it was D. The exchange went something like this –
D – Why are you doing that?
Gabriel – That’s how I breathe.
D –Can’t you just breathe like this? (helpfully demonstrates normal human respiration)
Gabriel - No.
Now D’s a super sweet kid, but in my mind the next words out of his mouth are something along the line of “that’s so weird” or “annoying”. Not mean, but negative. But no, D says “Huh. I’m going to breathe like that too”. And he gives it a try. Did I see that one coming? Nope. Of all the reactions I anticipated, admiration wasn’t even on my radar. I felt immeasurably better and it gave me some much needed perspective.
And that’s parenting for you right there. You might as well not even bother trying to anticipate the outcome of, well anything really. Just sit back and wait for it to happen. Easy right? Of course once “it” happens, you are very often compelled to actually do something. Darn.
It’s just a comment between kids playing but I’m immediately anxious, waiting to hear what’s going happen next. Does he care he’s getting yelled at? Does he even know what “the D” is? I’m hoping it won’t end in tears. When social/sporty things get challenging for Gabriel it’s not unusual for him to give up entirely. Which, in true maternal guilt fashion, I interpret as a failure on my part. But no, the game continues, with Gabriel! Maybe he’s figured out what “D” is?
Moments later I hear crying. I head out and see Gabriel being escorted home by one of the older girls. “He got hit in the face with a slap shot, whatever that is” she tells me. (She doesn’t know what a slap shot is????.). Gabriel is in tears and one hand is clamped firmly on his right cheek. I simultaneously hug him and try to peel his hand away. His cheek is flaming red and I gently open his mouth, scared I’m going to see blood and broken teeth. But I see neither. Aside from a tiny drop of blood on his lip (which is probably from them being chapped) he is perfectly fine. But I lead him home, relieved that he can “gracefully” exit the game with a good excuse before he ends up quitting in frustration. “No, I want to keep playing”. He’s already pulling away from me and heading back to the game. And these are the moments in parenting when you are reminded that you might as well give up trying to guess what’s going to happen next.
Another recent example of this lack of predictability comes courtesy of Gabe’s best buddy, D. We've recently noticed that Gabriel has developed a facial tic. He periodically takes very exaggerated deep breaths in. He opens his mouth wide and you can clearly hear him take a gulp of air. And within the past couple of weeks it’s been happening with increasing frequency. It seemed inevitable that someone aside from family was going to notice and ask about it. And it was D. The exchange went something like this –
D – Why are you doing that?
Gabriel – That’s how I breathe.
D –Can’t you just breathe like this? (helpfully demonstrates normal human respiration)
Gabriel - No.
Now D’s a super sweet kid, but in my mind the next words out of his mouth are something along the line of “that’s so weird” or “annoying”. Not mean, but negative. But no, D says “Huh. I’m going to breathe like that too”. And he gives it a try. Did I see that one coming? Nope. Of all the reactions I anticipated, admiration wasn’t even on my radar. I felt immeasurably better and it gave me some much needed perspective.
And that’s parenting for you right there. You might as well not even bother trying to anticipate the outcome of, well anything really. Just sit back and wait for it to happen. Easy right? Of course once “it” happens, you are very often compelled to actually do something. Darn.
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