Out of the mouths of BABES

I am a good mom, I promise. My last post deserves a slight explanation for all my wonderful friends who have never before uttered a slightly off-coloured word. I don’t swear on a regular basis, I promise; only on very rare, extremely off-colour moments where the world is exploding and I too along with it. It’s something I’m working on eliminating entirely, however, it’s difficult to change something which I am genetically inclined to do. Let me elucidate (that’s for you Chris!).

With five children underfoot my Mother was beyond an extraordinary mom, but I recently shared with her a memory I have of her not quite filling that description. I will never forget my mother threatening us that if she did not take an afternoon nap (a habit that she has stuck with to this day) she would become a witch with a wart and broom and all. We believed her and were more than quiet because, well, we’d seen that witch. When Mom had a broom in hand, that was the only time we heard THAT word. THAT word and the mumbling, grunting and complaining that erupted when cleaning had to be done was more than a little disheartening. I remember having my very own child-size broom and dust bin (perhaps an attempt of a wise mother to pass on the job to her children) and uttering THAT word in precise copycat fashion.

When I told my mom this, she was shocked to pieces that she had ever done this! Being the person she is, it is a little shocking, to say the least (I love you Mom)! More than disappointed at her own behavior, she was appalled that she had continued the family legacy. You see, Mom grew up hearing OTHER words from her own mother’s mouth when she cleaned. OMA? My Dutch, beyond cleaner than clean grandmother? Not only was I outraged that Oma swore, but the fact that she may not enjoy cleaning was just as scandalous. Mom shared that, as a child, she’d confronted her mother about THESE words and Oma swore (pun intended) that she didn’t know what those words meant in English (as she was an immigrant and just learning the language). I’m not so sure.

A couple of months ago, before I had a maid for the summer, Julia asked me how I could be having such a good day and then suddenly get so angry. I was cleaning the bathroom at the time. My husband was wondering the same thing, as I hollered with my head stuck somewhere in the toilet with comet up my nose “Because cleaning makes me angry!”

I suppose it’s not so bad. From THOSE words to THAT word to simply ANGRY, each generation is getting better. And from the looks of my little Cinderella, one day my descendants may actually enjoy cleaning and even sing while they do.

The point being, in all of this, is that I come from a long line of absolutely fabulous women, remarkable mothers who have taught their children well and made me who I am. And while I have faults and sometimes say things I shouldn’t, I am a good Mom. (I just write about all of my faults on the internet for everyone to read!)

Words of Wisdom?

The other day, on our drive up to the cottage when the boys were sleeping and Julia was off in la-la-land, Grandma and I were talking. At one point Grandma spat out a word that sounds like sit but isn't quite, followed by a "excuse me". Julia piped right up, "Um, Grandma, you just said a bad word". Grandma apologized profusely, completely acknowledging that what she has said was wrong. I was astonished, and said, a little embarassed - "How does she know that's a bad word anyways?" I'd love to blame it on the President, but I think it may be from the Queen of the castle. Oh........

I've Become One of THOSE Moms

I have a confession to make. As much as I feel that the bond of motherhood unites and entitles every mother everywhere to enter into a sort of cult (with new momhood being the worst possible form of initiation), I am, I’m afraid, very Momist. You’ve heard of sexism and racism, but are you aware of Momism? Perhaps not in that term, but I’m fairly certain it attacks most Moms on various occasions. It’s what allows us to have those moments where we feel like a good Mom. Because, invariably, if I am a good Mom, somebody else somewhere is what is definitely defined as a bad Mom. This summer, I’ve become that mother.

You know the Mom who, upon being awoken turns on the TV for her kids so that she can perchance catch a few more winks instead of physically and emotionally caring for and nourishing her children – yup, I’m her. The Mom who keeps her kids up way too late with no semblance of bedtime? Check. Last night my kids fell asleep watching something on late-night TV with their Dad. They have fallen asleep in the car too many times for count this summer. And my favorite was when I was the Mom with the kids running around in IKEA at 9pm – I HATE that Mom! Nobody should have their kids up that late, and if you do, don’t bring them somewhere to run around where I am trying to escape into a realm of matching furniture and adorable accessories! Summer Mom has completely taken over. She allows the children to eat way too many popsicles, she has introduced them to pop enough to make it a beverage that is asked for, and she has allowed fruit loops and waffles for breakfast. Unhealthy and uncaring, Summer Mom has also enabled her children to become so spoiled that one such child (with all fault being placed on Summer Mom and not on said child) actually refused to talk to a certain grandparent for a whole day when siblings were graced with a gift but not said child. Awful. Summer Mom’s kids have been overwhelmed with experience after experience – from amusement parks to cottages – they unremittingly ask “what’s next?” Summer Mom even has a constant supply of candy for potty bribes, etc. ETC!!!!!! I swore I would never become that Mom. I disgust myself, and yet…. I have come to an understanding that will forever change my Momism. Maybe those Moms are hating who they are just as much as I do, maybe it’s just an interlude for them too, maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world to be a bad Mom every once in a while. Maybe we’ll all survive. Maybe. For now I groan inwardly and hand my son the second remote to the TV so he can watch something different than the other two. Two TVs? What kind of Mom am I?

Ode to Uncle Jeff

I grew up with an Uncle Max, and I am ever so thankful that my kids have a semblance of one such uncle in their lives. Uncle Jeff is in town for a extended weekend visit… and though he thought it was to be a break from his kids, well, it’s not a break from mine. Julia, in particular, is enthralled with Uncle Jeff. Her first reaction when hearing he was coming for a visit was, “Oh great! He’s the one who lets me give him kitty kisses!” Uncle Jeff is a twin, for those of you who don’t know, and if Julia can just get his name straight, that would be one less thing to drive Uncle Warren, I mean Uncle Jeff batty! Uncle Jeff also has a daughter Julia’s age, but she talks about 95% less than Julia does, and it is beyond amusing to see his face as she continues to talk and talk his ear off. We are very accommodating to the strengthening of their relationship, and have let the car seats be switched out, table settings changed and even sent Julia in to wake up Uncle Jeff so that they can spend more time together. Uncle Jeff definitely has a new twin now! Thanks for a great visit.

Rise Up With Wings Like Seagulls!

Like most young children, mine are fascinated with birds. The bigger the better; they love ducks, adore yet apprehend the vicious Canadian geese, and are comfortable with seagulls. After numerous attempts at correction, Julia and Tyler call them “eagles” and Ethan “giggles”. They love to chase them and watch them scatter, they enjoy translating their coos, from “mine” (thanks to Finding Nemo) to “please ask Mommy if you can stay and play”. I truly believe my children would be happier to feed a seagull than to be full themselves – as is demonstrated at most of our picnics as of late.

Personally, I think of seagulls as vultures; begging for a bite of my sandwich or anything else for that matter. We have become well-versed in the eating repertoire of seagulls – they will eat anything, from raw carrots to paper towel with peanut butter fingerprints. Having been pooped on by a seagull one too many times, I feign interest in order to give my children as unbiased a childhood as I can muster. Those dirty creatures disgust me, and have ruined at least one day of my life. Lest I digress, let me elucidate.

The year is gone from my memory, but I was old enough to be wanting to go out on New Year’s Eve. My Dad, a relentless bird lover, decided we should celebrate New Years together as a family, stuck at home, all together, with nothing to do but watch a special (to him) movie about a (drum role please…..) SEAGULL! Thus came the longest, most boring New Years of my life. With great introduction from Dad about how this movie, based on a book of course, would change our lives and help us improve in the New Year, we sat through what felt like hours of dirty birds. Jonathan Livingston Seagull squelched any inkling of bird-liking that may have survived my being pooped on experience. (Funny thing is, Greg and I were laughing over this movie last weekend at the family reunion, and Dad was shocked that I a) remembered the movie and b) was making fun of such a great movie and wonderful family time. Sorry Dad. But at least you were right about one thing, it did affect me and change my life in a memorable way!)

So now I sit and cringe while endorsing the bird-loving children I have. It’s great how free they can be. However, I think that if I really want them to learn to fly high, I will keep from ever showing them that awe-inspiring movie about a seagull who learns to fly and transcend the normalcy of a seagull’s life. I’ll have to find some other way to keep them from going out on New Years with friends I don’t approve of! For now, I’ll let them feed, chase and adore the eagles and giggles!

Overheard

Julia (examining her tan): "Dad, do we have the same colour skin?"
Daddy (who tans much better than Mommy could ever dream of): "Pretty close."
Julia: "That means we both speak Spanish."

My Bony Boy

While I would love to ponder on the perplexities of pollution, sift through my mind for something witty to say about the magnitude of womanhood or even enlighten you with some freshly gained gem of knowledge… I know you are all waiting for an update on Tyler… and well, that’s about all that’s been on our minds lately too.

So update I will.

Friday morning we fought the weekend traffic and hectic boarder to get to the Children’s Hospital once again. This time we went upstairs to meet with an orthopedic surgeon. Our appointment was at 11am, and by 12:30 we were in to meet with him. The doctor did his best, but really Tyler was in severe pain with all his poking and prodding. When he looked at the his x-ray, suddenly there was concern in his voice mingled with uncertainty as he started to ask us lots of questions about his medical history with his feet and ultimately the given diagnosis. His x-ray startled the doctor and the explanation of it shocked us too: Tyler has an extra bone in his foot that shouldn’t be there. After a while the doctor attending us said he didn’t feel like he was competent enough and so he was going to explain everything to his ‘boss’ and bring back the senior doctor to take a look at Tyler. Again we waited…this time a little more worried than when the worst was merely a fracture or a break.

The two returned and Tyler was again examined – a little more gently. The x-ray was the real point to be examined. In the end we were given a referral for a pediatric orthopedic surgeon in Indianapolis for when we return. He will need x-rays on both feet, an MRI, and then surgery to remove the bone or bones – if on both feet. He could have a bone infection – which may have been causing his on and off fevers for the past two years (or the fevers could be completely unrelated). But basically this is pretty serious. As much as this will be a long and hard journey for Tyler, we are also a bit relieved. Since before he could walk, we’ve been trying to convince doctors everywhere that there was something just not right with his feet. We’ve seen all sorts of specialists and it has only been his physical therapist that thought there was a problem but wasn’t “specialized” enough to determine or diagnose it. She set us up with a pediatric podiatrist who said he had flexible flat feet… and ordered insoles. When that didn’t work our physical therapist helped us get his braces, since he was walking on the insides of his feet and ruining his navicular bone as well as he lacked major muscle in his legs. Since his supposed “injury” that hasn’t worked either. In fact, as the two doctors who stared unbelievably at his x-ray said, this was not acute and was so obvious that they couldn’t fathom that any specialist of any kind could have looked at an x-ray of his foot and not see that extra bone. In fact they were appalled and want to be kept in the know of what happens with Tyler. We finally have a Dr. on our side – and his name is Dr. Galpin, so he won’t be forgetting us too quickly either. For now Tyler has a cast to keep his foot and leg still and help with the pain. His fevers fluctuate, but he is starting to hobble around. Monday we start making calls to get the medical attention he’ll need back home. In a sense we are relieved to finally be heard and to start the process that will result in Tyler’s full health.

Just a note: his cast is, thankfully, waterproof! He can swim, bathe – the works! So our summer fun isn’t toast! Also my double stroller was in storage at my father-in-law’s, so we dug it out for double use! Tyler was scared to death to get the cast on, but is now very proud of his red superman cast that drains water while he hangs upside down after his bath!

After the hospital we headed to Palmyra, New York. We did some of the sites, but the real high of the day was the Hill Cumorah Pageant. Amidst trying to keep Ethan from singing at the top of his lungs the whole time, and answering all of Julia’s questions, it was a very enjoyable spectacle. I truly had my testimony strengthened of how much our Savior loves each of us. I was especially touched at this time with feeling how much He loves Tyler and understands what he is going through and will help him to be made whole. It was a great experience and really made everything we did that day worthwhile.

That night we drove till almost 2am and stayed near Niagara Falls. Saturday morning we did the falls thing. Greg has been having nightmares for a year of Ethan falling down the falls. Thankfully it was pretty uneventful, but it was a bit amusing to watch Greg being the paranoid parent for once! Julia commented that she thought the Niagara Falls was a dream and hoped now that we could come back to see it every year! It was nice to feel the mist on such an incredibly hot day! Saturday afternoon we drove back to Toronto for the Saunderson family reunion. We had a great time visiting and relaxing and while Tyler fought a fever, he was able to nap a fair amount. We couldn’t get Julia out of the pool, and Ethan was enjoying a brand new tiny puppy! It’s always fun to be with family, and this reunion was no exception. Today we have enjoyed a nice quiet day together and are happy to report zero injuries or happenings of any kind. Oh happy day!

PS - Sorry for how long this is!

LMNOP & My Little Sickie

I have a very sick little boy on my hands. We go to see a specialist tomorrow so I'll keep you up to date. Right now his whole ankle and foot is swollen up like no other regardless of how often I ice it and keep it elevated. He also has his high fever again (103-104.7) with meds... which may or may not be related to his foot injury. We called the orthopedic specialist earlier and she thought he might have an infection in his bones if the fever is related. With our little sickie it's always hard to tell. We'll keep you up to date after our appointment and more x-rays. His bug bites are looking better though, so that's the good news!

I love to read and haven't given myself much oppourtunity to do so as of late. My little brother recommended a book to me the other day and even lent me a copy so I wouldn't have any excuse not to read it. I even adore the title - Ella Minnow Pea: A Novel in Letters by Mark Dunn. I read it in almost one sitting. (And if you don't have a sick kid, you could do it easily in just one!) I loved this book - very witty and the writing is intoxicating. Here's a review I found from Amazon.com (since I have a nasty habit of giving away too much). I highly recommend it! It's one I want to have on my shelf. My only criticism with it would be that it had to end! It would definately be a fun one for any book group too. Thanks Kyle!

Review:
“There’s the whiff of a classic about Ella Minnow Pea.” —The Christian Science Monitor

“A love letter to alphabetarians and logomaniacs everywhere.” --Myla Goldberg“A curiously compelling . . . satire of human foibles, and a light-stepping commentary on censorship and totalitarianism.” --The Philadelphia Inquirer

“This exceptional, zany book will quickly make you laugh.” --Dallas Morning Herald Book

Description:
Ella Minnow Pea is a girl living happily on the fictional island of Nollop off the coast of South Carolina. Nollop was named after Nevin Nollop, author of the immortal pangram,* “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.” Now Ella finds herself acting to save her friends, family, and fellow citizens from the encroaching totalitarianism of the island’s Council, which has banned the use of certain letters of the alphabet as they fall from a memorial statue of Nevin Nollop. As the letters progressively drop from the statue they also disappear from the novel. The result is both a hilarious and moving story of one girl’s fight for freedom of expression, as well as a linguistic tour de force sure to delight word lovers everywhere.

"Oh what a tangled web we weave..."

I finished reading Charlotte's Web to my kids today. What a story! I think that maybe because it has taken us soooooooo long to read together (we started it months ago and then took it back up this summer) I have become incredibly attached to the characters, in particular Charlotte. While my kids, and in fact everyone in the story is fond of Wilbur, my heart goes out to Charlotte. Maybe its the writer in me, or the bit of feminist in me, or even the mother in me, I don't know. Yesterday when we read the second last chapter, I could hardly contain myself... in fact I was crying and Julia laughed at me for doing so! You see, I'm going to spoil it for those of you who haven't read it, and yet it's not spoiled if you decide to read it again as an adult and see what it means to you, but in yesterday's chapter Charlotte died. In the words of the books, "No one was with her when she died". I was overwhelmed with the fact that someone who gave all she had to give to help save someone else's life would, in the end, lose her own. But not only that, someone who was really the greatest friend you could imagine, had nobody, not even a rat with her when she died. Gosh. I was struck too with Charlotte's mission and vision of life and how she so gracefully lived what she believed. "After all," she explains to Wilbur, "what's a life anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that". So true.

This book was fun for us to read. Julia has taken her pig "Wilbur" with us everywhere, and Tyler is obsessed with the grotesque facts of spiders and captured by Spiderman! To be honest it wasn't quite as an exciting read as The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was for us. Now comes the fun part where we search for a new book for our collection. Any suggestions? What have you enjoyed reading with your kids?

Family Home Evening

I’ve always been a little over-enthusiastic about family home evening. I put way too much into this weekly spectacular – and am delighted when the participation and ultimately the rewards merit the effort and exertion.

We have gotten into a tradition of using Sunday’s for FHE (mostly due to Greg having had Monday night classes). So yesterday, I was anticipating a very memorable FHE and some relaxing down time as a family. It has been weeks since we’ve had an uneventful Sunday, and Greg and I both felt the need as well as extreme gratitude for the blessed Sabbath day that was to take place. Not so.

It started Saturday night as we were sleeping over at Grandma and Papa’s and there was a scream in the middle of the night which resulted in Tyler coming to sleep with us and whimpering away the rest of the night (we think he fell out of bed). Sunday morning he was complaining of how much his feet hurt and insisting to be carried everywhere. We didn’t think anything of it – except of trying to make him be quiet. You see Tyler has a misalignment in his feet along with weak muscle structure in his legs and has recently acquired braces to help with these problems – but is still in the stage where the braces are painful and hard to get used to and he’ll try anything to get out of wearing them. We were leaving early to get to church and decided to stifle him by complying and leaving him barefoot until we absolutely had to put on his braces and shoes. Speaking of shoes, Greg had forgotten his dress shoes and so he dropped Julia, Ethan and I off at church to quickly run home to get his shoes and then return. Tyler went because he had had a number two potty accident and desperately needed a shower and new pants. (Too much info, I know!) When they never came back to church I started to get worried.

Apparently at home Tyler was screaming in pain and refusing to walk – crawling all over and favouring his right foot. Greg decided to examine it since, in his words, “this is crazy!” His right ankle was swollen up like a balloon.

Well, to make a very long story and extremely long day just a little bit reader-friendly, Greg picked the rest of us up at church, we ate and then started researching ankle sprains and fractures. Then the phone calls: we called our doctor, attempted to contact our insurance for pre-authorization (of course they were closed on Sunday) and then made a bazillion calls trying to find someone to watch our other two rambunctious children while we started our medically-recommended extended vacation to the emergency room. No such luck, so we made the trek all together.

We don’t have coverage in Canada, so we had to drive to a Children’s Hospital in Buffalo, New York. This was the first ER trip that included bringing our passports and birth certificates! We had no trouble at the border and made it to the shady area where, when we had to get a prescription at the pharmacy not only did we all go in because I was scared for us to stay in our car, but I encouraged my children to look at the candy and magazines in the check-out instead of the prostitutes and druggies in the lines surrounding us! Anyways, at the hospital we waited and waited – you all know the ER routine. I’m actually surprised we didn’t get any other injuries while Ethan jumped from the bed, stood up in the stroller that flipped over and Julia twirled her way dizzily around all the equipment that was shoved in that tiny room. Ultimately Tyler had x-rays and it was determined he has a grade 3 sprain with a potential fracture. Also he had contracted an infection from some bug bites on his legs that was spreading – that merited a $50 prescription! So we’re hoping our insurance will take care of the hospital bill at least. We have to return to an orthopedic clinic within 7 days for more x-rays to determine if it is a fracture… but for now he needs Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation and lots of Motrin. With his other ankle issues, he mostly likely won’t be walking for 2-4 weeks! We got home just before 10pm yesterday and skipped the whole bedtime routine, simply transferring the sleepy kids from car to bed. But I must say, for being unplanned it certainly was a Family Home Evening Adventure. Next week I’m hoping we can simply act out a little scripture story!

So now I'm a Mummy

It's happened. We've been in Canada too long and my worst nightmare has come true. Last night marked the first episode, but I'm sure there are to be more. Julia called me "Mummy"! I HATE that! I can deal with Mom, Mommy, and even Mama from my little one - but MUMMY! Somebody help me before I begin to feel like one!

I've Got It Made; I've Got A Maid

So I’ve been basically permanently down about our living conditions this summer. It stinks – literally. However, there are some perks. And for those of you who care and actually read through all my never-ending far-too-long and almost always pointless bloggery, I’m going to enlighten you with one of the few perks. I have a maid. Margo is her name, and she is basically my only summer friend. I love my maid. Twice a week she changes my sheets, makes our beds snuggly and tight, takes out my trash, mops my floor, and even cleans my bathroom. It doesn’t get much better than that. (Parentheses needed, however, for those of you who know me – it does get a little better… there are some ways she cleans that I would definitely want done differently – I’m abstaining from using the word “better” – and after 7 weeks I’m still waiting to have my place dusted or even vacuumed for that matter… close parentheses.) The best thing about my maid, though is that she comes during quiet time and so I get to visit and usually help her while we do. We’ve gotten so close, in fact, that she told me that her mother (who also works here) cried when we moved to the first floor – thinking we’d left for good without saying goodbye!

Margo is a 20 yr old college student from Peru. One of our first conversations consisted of her explaining to me how ours was the first family she had seen in real life that was all white, and blonde! Again, she’s from Peru and we’re in multicultural center of Toronto here! She thought it was just from the movies and completely unreal – since most people marry inter-racially – and she was just in awe of us. Next came her impression of the United States. She’s only been to Miami and so she was sure it was all like that: city life, gunshots everywhere… the works. I have to admit this was probably my first time to defend or speak up for the country in which I am an “alien”. But I’m learning a lot about her culture and country too. On our last visit we discussed marriage. My marrying so young, her impending marriage and just the increasing decline of marriage… yada yada yada. We’ve compared country and city living and discussed education as well as sibling rivalry. We’ve dwelled on child abuse and the world cup alike. Mostly we just “talk” – you girls know what I mean – and I love it. I don’t know if she knows what a highlight this is in my week. Today I’m anxiously awaiting her visit. My floor is sticky, my kitchen sink could use a scrub and there are dirty diapers that need to leave! But mostly I’m waiting to see her smile, hear her talk effortlessly while she does my dirty business, and ultimately make my day. Ladies and gentlemen, this place stinks; but at least I have a friend.

As Long As I'm Living My Baby You'll Be

(Here’s Ethan sleeping in his crib a couple of weeks ago. Greg took this picture to show just how many toys our little one takes to bed with him. It’s quite unruly really… and yet he puts up such a fuss if he is missing one of his bedtime buddies. Usually he is pinned up against the railings of the crib with toys crushing him at every angle. Sweet dreams – who do you let your son sleep with?!)

My baby is no longer my baby. As a matter of fact my very tenacious two-year old has suddenly decided he wants to be a big boy. He refuses to wear anything particularly resembling a bib, won’t sit in his booster to eat anymore, is wanting to use the potty on a more regular basis than his older brother, and shock of all shocks, is finally ready to give up his crib. His beloved bed, the one we dragged across country to bring for him to have his specified slumber parties. The crib we have put away and set up a replacement toddler bed for, only to have to re-set it up to solve both my baby and his parent’s insomnia. But now, it’s down and it’s official. As Ethan so enthusiastically put it, “Bye-bye kib, bye-bye kib!” Even now as Greg and I are on our “weekend away” my Mom called to say that Ethan refused to take a nap in her crib. The moment she allowed him to get out and sleep where he wanted to, he fell quickly asleep. The boy is convinced, I guess we should all start to figure it out too.

It started a couple weeks ago when he started climbing out of his crib repeatedly. Try a dozen times at nap time and another dozen at bedtime. Two problems: a) he was getting hurt and b) he couldn’t get back in the crib on his own. This caused two immediate results a) he was beginning to despise his crib as something that caused him pain and b) I had to keep going in to put him back in his crib which would re-start the whole going down routine.

I’m sad, I have to admit. This is a big step for me as a mother. It’s slightly difficult to have another big boy sleeping in a big bed who can now wander and play and easily get out of the bedroom… but it’s harder still for me to have my baby growing up. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. I went through this with each of my children. In fact I took joy in having to lay with them before they fell asleep for naptime. With Julia we would read “I Love You Forever” over and over at her request. With Tyler is was “Bear Wants More”. With Ethan, who is not as enthused with book-reading, we sing songs. But in my heart of hearts I am thinking, “I’ll love you forever baby; Mommy wants more!”