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".
May 4, 2011
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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