The Birds and the ... Trees?

After spending all afternoon at a park with a group of Moms and their kids (and several babies), we were driving home. (The car seems to be where all my "deep" conversations with my kids happen.) Mr. T asked me if I would "buy" him a baby. A bit confused, I asked him to clarify whether he meant a real baby or a doll baby. Not a bit flustered he answered that he meant a REAL baby, a baby brother, of course! I told him that unfortunately that's not something you can buy. "But where do babies come from?" he asked, quite urgently. Since he's not my oldest, and I've been through this before, I calmly answered with a question to scope out his knowledge, "Where do you think babies come from?" Without a second to spare he replied, "They grow on trees up high with the leaves. When they're all done they fall out." I was quite interested in his response... about a year ago he had an imaginary friend named "baby girl" who was always climbing up trees! Who knows?! I clarified a bit, pointing out exactly where babies do grow (Mommies' tummies actually)... but he was dead set on his tree answer. He did however have one remaining question: "How do the babies get in the trees?" I wonder if I'll ever have this Mommy thing figured out!!!

Weapons of Mass Destruction

Wooden spoons and bowling pins have become my boys' weapons of choice as of late. They sleep with them, they travel with them, and they fight over and with them. This morning at breakfast Mr. T had a bowling pin sitting on the table, one under his chair and one on his lap. I commented on this and he assured me that there was a bear in the downstairs bathroom but that as soon as he was done with his breakfast he would be off to kill the bear. "Don't worry Mom, I'll take care of it." Later on today both the boys had mysteriously disappeared... I found them on top of the kitchen counter chasing away any remnant of "bad guys" in my cupboards. (Thank goodness we keep the knives even higher than they have yet attempted to climb.) Still, how can I get upset at such little knights in shining armour?! Truly, it is their adorable faces and smiles that are the real weapons of mass destruction in this mother's house!

New Discovery

I recently added a site tracker to my blog and I have to admit to becoming a bit obsessed with trying to figure out who is actually visiting my blog. There are those I know, there are people who link to me from some of your blogs and than there are the complete strangers who run into me by accident by googling (is that a word?) something random like "bedtime charts" or "how many days tell halloween" -(this is verbatim from one of you!). It's the Nancy Drew in me, I suppose, but I am loving this new detective work. Just today was a discovery that got me really excited: somebody in Morocco is reading my site! Not only that, whoever they are, they are reading my writing in French!!! I looked into it a bit, and for your reading pleasure, you can also visit me in Spanish!!! So you can read and you can run, but with this detective around you cannot hide!!! (Shall we google detective and Nancy Drew now???)

I Spy Superman

Little E is his own very best playmate. He loves to play on his own. Often he will meander away from a group activity to go upstairs and play with his trains all by himself. Sometimes I'll try to make an entrance into his playland and be thoroughly told to "go 'way!" This little man needs his space!

I recently started to make an effort at planning playdates for each of my children on a weekly basis... that includes my little 2 year old who prefers to fly solo. I've been stunned at the results. While two year olds don't exactly play "together," Little E is becoming quite the little host and a fabulous friend. Last week when he had his "playdate" at our home... he dedicated himself to making his little friend as comfortable as possible. He brought him any toy he thought might interest him - including all his very own favourites! He shared anything the little guy attempted to grab from him with a smile and a "here you go" that only I could understand! He was as thoughtful and as gentlemanly as you could imagine and I wasn't the only one shocked. The other mother (my "playdate") couldn't get over his manners and his ability to share at such a young age. I had to acknowledge my own surprise, but it was definately one of those proud Mommy moments!

Tonight after letting the kids run around in the grass in bare feet (it was such a gorgeous evening) I was trying to gather everyone in for bedtime. Always a daunting task, but tonight I couldn't seem to find Little E anywhere. Though I was pretty sure he would be off somewhere playing on his own, I was a little concerned that he had somehow snuck back outside. After a rampant search outside I started looking all over our house once again. Downstairs, upstairs, and on my way back down the stairs when a flash of light caught my eye. There was Little E in the dark bathroom, sitting behind the shower curtain in the empty bathtub playing with a flashlight and watching the light reflect on the shiny overflow. I watched him for a moment playing by himself and then went to get the camera to capture the moment. In doing so I interrupted his "moment" and he shooed me away so he could continue his experimentation... alone. I guess Superman does prefer to work alone! Isn't he sweet?!

this one's for YOU!

Mr. Man called me from work today to express his dissatisfaction with my blog updating. He wants something new to read and is worried about me disappointing my “fans”!!! Time has been of the essence lately, but I’m taking a moment to write this post and dedicate it to Mr. Man.

On our drive home from picking up Big J from school today we passed a gas station where several old cars were parked and on display (I don’t really understand this strange phenomenon where like cars gather, but I also couldn’t tell you for the life of me the type of cars these were and so perhaps I’m completely out of my car-knowledge league at being able to comprehend it). Anyways, I pointed them out to the kids as any good parent who is trying to make the children look at something other than their siblings (who are seated much too close, using each other’s arm rests and grabbing limbs). Upon seeing the cars, Big J piped up, “That’s what we should get Daddy for his birthday!” (See, even my kids know the difference from a non-car lover [me] and a car-lover). They all agreed and began discussing which one would make the best gift. Mr. T then explored another option: “I think we should get Daddy a playground. A really really BIG playground that would be fun for him.” Big J agreed because maybe if the playground were more fun, Daddy wouldn’t just sit on the bench! They settled on a car and a playground. Both blue, of course!

Mr. Man told me that the other day Mr. T kept asking him what he wanted for his birthday. (The whole discussing of Daddy’s birthday is a bit amusing since his birthday is a good 10 months away!) But Mr. Man’s answer was completely sweet and made my love for him grow. He said he couldn’t think of anything to tell him, because as much as he tried, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted. He already has it all.

I love you.

Overheard

(The kids are playing “dolls” with the dollhouse. The dolls include Big J’s Kelly and Sleeping Beauty, Mr. T’s superhero figurines and Little E’s ‘Little People’)

E: “ROAR! ROAR! ROAR!”
T: “Batman will save you. Here I come!”
J: “Be careful! I just mopped the floor!”

My New Title

It started earlier this week, and has made it through the weekend. I'm hoping it's a new trend that will become rather catchy around our home. The first time I heard it the boys and I were driving to pick up Big J from kindergarten (since her small-sized class is at a far-away school). I passed back a snack... the forbidden snack that Daddy had purchased and I had grabbed in a rushed moment of necessity: fruit snacks. Mr. T nearly jumped out of his car seat and exclaimed, "You're the best Mom ever!" My heart stings pulled, yet I felt it was imperative to mention that Daddy had been the true giver of the snack. His reply, "But you passed it back here cause you're the best Mom ever!"

Later it was the ice cream for dessert that merited the golden title. "You're the best Mom ever" was pronounced when a long lost toy was found and when I dragged his bike through the grass to the sidewalk. The title is growing on me and is especially effective when given with Mr. T's to-die-for smile (complete with squinty eyes) and even better with a hug! Sadly, however it was used as definite manipulation yesterday: "Mom, cause you're the best Mom ever can I stay up late and watch Star Wars?" Um, no. And today I felt betrayed, and yes even a tinge of jealousy, when I heard him utter "You're the best Dad ever" and even "You're the best brother ever". Can it be that we are all just the best to him, or has my three year old learned the fine art of flattery? Regardless, I can only say that truly labels do work wonders on your self-esteem and your actions. If only for a few moments scattered throughout the week, I was the best Mom ever!

Joy School

This is my fourth year participating in a preschool co-op. Meaning once every 5 weeks (depending on how many children participating) I teach preschool at my house, and during the rest of the weeks I drop my child off at the lucky mother/teacher’s house for 2 ½ hours. It’s been four years and I confidently consider myself a pro. I’ve got so many tricks up my sleeve of songs and games to last a lifetime of preschool... not to mention crafts! This year a group of us decided to try out Joy School. I have been in awe of this curriculum and am thrilled to have found a group of Moms who feel as I do and are interested in trying it out with me. I love that Mr.T gets to go to preschool without actually going to preschool. I love the home preschool option and could stand on my soapbox all day discussing the benefits. Like I said, I’m a pro and so I boldly offered to be the first to host Joy School.

Tuesday went wonderfully and of course didn’t merit a post at all. Today. Well. With 6 boys (including my Little E) and only one little girl... let’s just say it was a little rowdy. Some were a little sad and are still getting used to being at preschool and so we had to take turns sitting on the teacher’s lap – much to Little E’s dismay. All in all it was a pretty typical preschool day until I had to deal with a potty accident. It was in the bathroom and not that big a deal. I told the child to stay still, while I got the other six involved in snack time at the table. Snack’s safe, right? What could go wrong during snack time? Up to my arms in clorox and quickly cleaning and changing one preschooler, I can hear the sounds of utter chaos coming from my dining room. When I came out I discovered that snack really isn’t the safest option for 6 rambunctious joy schoolers. Crackers and cheese dipped in water make for lovely plaster on the walls, floor and tables. Curtains hung by very cheap rods make for fabulous swings, and more than 3 boys together can cause a huge wrestling match and pile-up. There were many tears, screaming to deafen my ears, boogers running, curtain rod broken and mess mess mess. I faced the children and escorted them into the front room (the tidy room) for stories. “The Little Gingerbread Man” has never made me want to cry before, but I held back the tears and read. Chaos was still ensuing and we still had 45 minutes left. It was one of those moments where I felt like crawling back into bed, and left with that thought I decided I should probably call for back-up before I either took that option or exploded. I told myself I was not a failure, swallowed my pride and called one of the other mothers, who was marvelously understanding and came over immediately. Of course by then things had calmed down drastically and we went outside to all get a breath of fresh air.

I know it’s the first week of Joy School. I appreciate that the children are still getting used to this new part of their lives. I am sure there won’t be a potty accident every time and I recognize that they are young and I need to adjust to that age level (after teaching 4 and 5 year olds last year). But it was still hard to feel that complete sense of out-of-control-ness. I’m over it now. My house is back to some semblance of normalcy and I have 5 weeks before I teach again! But mostly I’m sharing this because I wanted all of you who comment that I’m a supermom to know that indeed I am not. I’m just a Mom like all of you and I had a nice taste of humble pie today. I’m still excited about Joy School and I sincerely love each one of those little preschoolers.

***I just returned from helping somebody who called needing immediate help. I felt like I was returning a favour. I much prefer to be on the giving end of service, and I felt validated being able to help. However, I’m glad that in the middle of Joy School I was the one who learned a much needed lesson: it’s okay to ask for help. Thanks for listening.

Know what I wanna be for Halloween?

It started months ago, days after last Halloween, but has grown incessant in the last few weeks. “Know what I wanna be for Halloween?” is flung out in the middle of stories, dinner and even prayer. The answers change constantly, or I suppose I should say that they’re at the point of fluctuation. Each child in my family now has 3-7 ideas of what they want to be. Little E’s costume is bought and ready and worn on a very frequent basis (by each child, I should add), and has been another trigger in the question phase of “Know what I wanna be for Halloween?”

Mr.T wants a sword. Halloween has seemed the perfect opportunity to acquire said weapon in a “need” basis. If you’re a knight, a prince, Robin Hood, or any number of brave masculine figures, you definitely need a sword for your costume. BigJ has followed suit and inquired weeks ago of the librarian if there were any female knights. Always the feminist, my daughter has now become obsessed with Joan of Arc and while her Halloween ideas are the broadest, she seems to always come back to Joan (who she insists is somehow connected with Noah and his “ark”).

Thankfully my children aren’t completely narcissistic; they do in fact ask others what they wanna be for Halloween. Including myself. I’ve resorted to brushing the question off with an “I don’t know” or “Halloween is mostly for children”. Instead of accepting my lame responses, my children have made it their duty to help Mommy figure out what to be. In my attempt to dissuade their increasing joy at the prospect of Mommy dressing up for Halloween, we’ve been going through my childhood albums looking for costumes I’ve already worn. Its funny how many times I was photographed dressing up – and not necessarily for Halloween. I thought I’d share a few of my costumes with you as we all look forward to that festive holiday! My children’s costumes will be photographed and shared closer to the date, as they are still to be finalized!

(My personal favourite is the ‘sailor’ – I actually LOVED that hat; and note the “Sound of Music” drapes in the background – LOVED those too! Also noteworthy is the clown costume that I think each of my siblings took a turn wearing!)

(I'm 3 here!)

The traditional "look at all my candy shot", and our yearly scarecrow!

PS - Can you tell we grew up in Canada? We were usually wearing our snow suits under our costumes - we all look a little roly poly!

What Dreams May Come

I almost slept in this morning. Had I looked at my calendar it could have happened. Nope, when BigJ crawled into bed with us (us meaning Mr. Man, LittleE and myself) we could’ve all fallen into a family bed slumber, but instead I looked at the clock (8:02) and told her we had 2 minutes before beds had to be made, prayers said and breakfast inhaled. We rushed somewhat and I dragged Mr. Man out of bed to take care of yet another teething enhanced pull-up change. By 8:40 we were definitely ready for the day, all dressed (except Mom of course!), teeth brushed, hair combed... we even had time to finish up homework and have family devotional. We bid our farewells with yawns... for although we were on time and well ready we still had cravings for our fabulous beds... and somewhere in the distance we could hear them calling us. I was barely dressed when a knock on the door and BigJ yelling – “It’s labour day” snapped me into reality: WE COULD STILL BE SLEEPING! Mr. Man still has classes to teach and attend, so our reverie couldn’t have lasted all day, but the hopes and dreams of a lazy morning were slaughtered. I’m going to have to set an alarm for American Thanksgiving so that we are sure to ignore it and go back to bed.