Words of Wisdom from a 3 yr. old

Mr. T was giving his little brother (who was wearing only a diaper) some instructions:
"You can do it! Just dump in your pants." [Translation: "...Jump in your pants"]

Worried about how some construction workers up on a roof were going to get down, Mr. T suggested the following:
"They could fly. Or they need to get a parrot suit!" [Translation: .... a parachute"]

Tomorrow starts my daily blogging... wish me luck!

On the Verge of Hating Halloween

Finding the right balance of traditions and fun family moments is always an adventure for me. I grew up in a family that was nowhere near lacking in the tradition department, and my husband keeps trying to remember if he grew up with one... he thinks his family’s tradition was to not have any. So from the plethora of options I have in my childhood memory, plus those I grew up wishing for and those that just have come about and been created in our little family – the balancing issue is explained.

I love fall, truly I do. Canadian Thanksgiving comes at that prime time of pure autumn celebration... and then we close into the heartbreaker. Halloween; the evil festivity that celebrates costumes, carving, candy and cavities. Chilling, really. Pumpkin carving is one of the icky, ucky traditions that has found its way into my family, actually at my prodding... and yet, I HATE it! I’ve turned the duty over to Mr. Man, and he has made the rule that EVERYONE MUST put their hand in the pumpkin and pull out a bunch of pumpkin brains and guts! Typically we all co-operate against our will as Mr. Man holds us down and forces us to comply with this wonderful family tradition! This year I would have nothing to do with it, and even the kids were beyond grossed out! Mr. Man again started his annual hold and was forcing their arms into the orange skull when he had an epiphany – surgical gloves!


Ironic actually, and after you view “The Life and Death of a Pumpkin” you will more than agree with me. So armed with surgical gloves, the competition was on to see who could remove the most of the pumpkin’s insides – I watched from the sidelines truly in awe of this horrific act and, ultimately, family tradition. So, what do you do to celebrate Halloween?

Priceless

Today we received a call from a member of our church who just recently moved into our neighbourhood, but whom we barely know. Her car wouldn’t start and she had been stranded at Wal-Mart for several hours trying to think of anyone’s name so she could find their number in the phone book and call for help. After several attempts, and now with a very crabby 5 month old, she succeeded in reaching us. Mr. T was not very happy to have to leave with a moment’s warning and so after bribing my boys with suckers and explaining the merits of service we were on our way. Mr. T was especially interested in my explanation that when we serve others it’s like we are serving Jesus. When we pulled up to Wal-Mart, Mr. T was leaning out to get a better view and exclaimed: “Jesus is at Wal-Mart?!” I guess I need to work on that explanation a bit more, but his reaction was priceless. In a way, I suppose, Jesus was at Wal-Mart today!

Red Light = Stop or Go?

I had the rare oppourtunity of driving with just one of my children today. While doing so, my usually quiet child kept the conversation flowing faster than I could keep up. There was not a moment of silence and we were both enjoying the moment. While stopped at a red light I glanced in the rear view mirror to check out the happenings in the car behind me – a curious, yet probably bad habit of mine! In the driver’s seat was a mother and in the passenger seat a boy of about 12 whom I’m presuming to be her son. I had to laugh out loud when I compared the non-stop chatter in my car to the silent stares in opposite directions in the car behind me. However, it is a bit startling to think that one day I may have to be the one instigating a conversation with my son if I want it to happen. I hope I do. I hope I don’t turn into that car behind me.

Just Call Me Doctor

Apparently after almost six years of treating childhood illnesses I’ve merited an honorary medical degree. A few weeks ago I was at a picnic with some other Moms and kids and Little E fell asleep on the picnic blanket while eating lunch. When I realized the sound of a barking dog was coming from my son, I knew he had the croup. I called the pediatricians’ office, informed them of my son’s condition and asked for a prescription. Of course they still made me come in, and while I was tempted to steal one of those handy prescription pads for future use, I abstained and waited for my correct diagnosis to be validated and the prescription given.

Friday morning Big J woke up with a headache, a sore throat, pain in her ears, and a churning tummy. When she was still ill by Saturday afternoon I decided not to go through another night with her and made the doctor’s appointment. Since I was to accompany the boys’ to a birthday party, I wrote a note for Mr. Man with her symptoms, as well as direct instructions to “please have the doctor check her ears and run a strep test”. Apparently it was a med student on duty after hours. He checked her vitals and then my husband told him that his wife wanted him to run a strep test. The med student looked in her throat and told him he thought it looked fine. Mr. Man winced a bit, knowing the wrath of the wife, and again informed him that his wife wanted a strep test to be run. The real doctor was then fetched, a strep test run and the results positive. Two points for Dr. Mom.

This morning I woke up with a headache. I’ve been a bit weepy, especially when I realized that ALL my jeans have holes in them – a direct result of playing with my kids too darn much. I turned green this evening, completely envious after visiting a new friend – who obviously isn’t living on a student income’s home (her home is not only large and gorgeous, but built on 30 acres of a scenic wonderland). Tonight when Mr. Man came home, Mr. T informed him that “Mommy’s being mean in the kitchen”. Dr. Mom can call this one a mile away: PMS. Should have stolen that prescription pad; for now I’ll have to tide myself over with several doses of chocolate! I should be feeling back to normal in a day or two.

Mom Thinking

I announced to my husband this morning that I was thinking of ending my blogging experience. Later, in the same day, I took on Very Mom’s challenge to blog every single day for the month of November. What is wrong with me? Am I a schizo or what?! While that is not an opened ended question upon which we’re going to debate, the fact of the matter remains that I have had to do some thinking about what I want out of blogging and where I fit in the blogosphere.

Lately I’ve been feeling a lot like a lame Mommy-blogger. Don’t get me wrong, I adore many Mommy-bloggers, the key word in that sentence is LAME. According to my blog, as of late my life and thoughts have revolved around absolutely nothing and so I’ve had to constantly post cute little nothings spoken or performed by my three little monkeys. Again, nothing wrong with cute little nothings... my point is that I’ve been thinking too much about what people reading my blog will think and so I haven’t wanted to post what I’m really thinking.

Years ago when I spent time and research on my writing and exchanged it for straight A’s I wrote an essay on Emerson’s The American Scholar. I am passionate about his theory of the state of Man Thinking or as I now like to label it, Mom Thinking – in short someone who can be described as a “more thinker” versus a “mere thinker” or a “mirror thinker”. I won’t enlighten you any further, though my writing about this demonstrates that I’m attempting to cease to care what those reading this think (since I know of at least one of you rolling your eyes in complete boredom!) My point is, how many times do we catch ourselves apologizing for allowing our minds to wander? How often are we embarrassed to admit to or suggest a new idea? Why do we fear the greatness and the magic that lies within? Mom Thinking has no such doubts and makes no such excuses. Mom Thinking lives life to the fullest. She does not only think… she does more. Mom thinking acts.

Afraid of acting, I’ve hidden behind a curtain anxious, like others, of hurting yet another someone with my thoughts and words. (Sorry again.) I’ve lurked on many a blog. Not commenting either because I feel I have nothing of worth to say, no time to say it, or am simply in awe of what others are able to say while I remain silent. I feel ashamed and embarrassed of my insignificant voice on my blog and don’t want it to be traced. But many of you have inspired me and made me want to try harder; to shed my shell of shyness. I believe that when one cannot be an individual, one is more in bondage than any slave is. If none of us would want to reveal who we really are, are we just portraying ourselves as individuals; is our individuality only skin-deep?

My thinking may not make sense to any of you, but I invite you on my journey. I also am interested to see how many of you will write to write and do so EVERY SINGLE DAY OF NOVEMBER. At least you get to post a cute little picture of Yoda if you agree to try!

Identity Crisis

Question asked of Little E: "What's your name?"

Answer last May: "Me."
Answer a week ago: "I three." (note, said child is barely 2 1/2)
Answer 3 days ago: "I Thomas." (either he's going with his middle name here, or his obsession with Thomas the train is worse than I thought)
Answer yesterday: "I Thomas, choo choo!" (worse than I thought)
Answer this morning: "I Julia!" (with a big cheesy - attempting to be a girl - grin)

Terrible Two's Top Ten

Lately it seems like all "ahem" has broken loose in our home, but in actuality Little E has just decided to restate his stage in life: that being the terrible two's.

Here are some tragedies that have recently struck, and the reasons I know I am still living with a tantrummy toddler.

10. There are stickers on my floor, on my walls, and on the railings.

9. There are white chalk scribbles all over my beautiful red wall.

8. Scissors are dangerous. A certain favourite “Thomas the Train” shirt now sports some unsightly holes.

7. He lies, “I’m three” and the receptionist believes him and makes a note on his chart.

6. The imprints of markers and stamps are on the walls, inside the fridge and all over Little E’s body – including in his mouth and ears.

5. We hear, “Ummmmmm..... No” and “NO WAY” way too much!

4. I don’t remember the last “meal” Little E has actually eaten, but I can tell you everything he hasn’t – since I’ve had to pick every little piece up off the floor.

3. Nobody naps here anymore... but Mommy desperately wants one.

2. After getting his feelings hurt, or told “no” Little E runs up to his bed and cries with his blankie until I go up to talk with him.

1. In trying to comfort my crying baby I ask if he needs a hug, or a kiss... he replies with tears running down his face, but with no lack of manipulation: “I need a movie!”

So life is full of adventures and the storybook “Love You Forever” seems real once again. Little E’s favourite game is still to yell and whisper “I LOVE YOU” back and forth with me... so while the moments of solace are few and far between, they do exist.

Overheard

My kids have continued to play together a LOT with all their little figurines mixed together in a gigantic and twisted plot! Big J, being the eldest, particularly enjoys running the show. Lately it’s been fun to hear Mr. T (now 3 ½) standing up to her and trying to manipulate the play a little bit more... here are two precious samples of his recent attempts during their playtime:

J: You must go home... you can’t play here anymore!
T: But I don’t have a home!
J: Your Mommy wants you to come to her.... go see your Mom!
T: But I don’t have a Mom!
J: Yes you do! I can hear your Daddy calling you too – go see!
T: But I don’t have a Mom or a Dad! I have no where to go!
J: Ughhhh! I just don’t want to play with you right now!
T: But I do.

***************
J: Quick come into my house!
T: No thanks, I want to stay outside and play.
J: No, you must come in.
T: I don’t want to.
J: The water is rising and you're going to drown.
T: I'm on a boat.
J: It’s freezing cold outside, you’re going to freeze!
T: I like the freezing.
J: Please come in my house?

Sometimes Onions Make Me Cry

Being a cool rainy autumn day, I decided to make soup for dinner tonight (with some of my extra turkey from Thanksgiving). While chopping up onion, my helper, Little E started getting red puffy eyes and quite teary. It struck me that for some reason the onion wasn’t affecting me at all – sometimes I seem to tear up for days after chopping an onion, but today nothing! Sounds a bit like life to me... maybe I’m alone in this disorder, but sometimes anything at all can make me cry and other times I couldn’t cry if I tried to! Lately I think I’ve been a bit on the weepy end, so maybe this dinner-prep realization was an omen of a change for the better. (I don’t really like to cry!)

On a happy note, we had a wonderful weekend hosting Canadian Thanksgiving. Both my parents, my Oma and three of my younger siblings came all the way to another country to celebrate with us! Everyone enjoyed watching Big J and Mr. T playing basketball,

we had some lovely walks, great game-playing (Oma was a hoot at Malarky – did you know that the word “bluff” in Dutch means “show-off”?!) and of course we devoured a delicious Thanksgiving feast!


Little E was obsessed with saying “OMA” and wanted her to play with him constantly. Mr. T wanted to ride bikes with Oma, but since she didn’t have one offered for her to ride on the back of his! It’s fun to see the generations together, obviously adoring each other, but with my little ones seeing little to no age difference between them! Thanksgiving is always a wonderful holiday to share with family – and it was so enjoyable to have them all here (with nobody flying off on a short notice!)




(The boys loved the new toy Oma brought for them to play with - her walker! And I think Oma enjoyed watching them!)

(Big J, who is always one for a story, quite enjoyed listening to Oma's stories - particularly the one about the giant butterflies in Indonesia!)

We definately miss our family now - each and every one of them. We were spoiled with love, attention and gifts!

When I think about it some more, I suppose crying isn't always such a bad thing - it means we feel and feeling is a good thing. And since love is a feeling that you feel when you feel that you're going to feel a feeling that you've never felt before - I just need to suck it up, ignore the onions and feel the love!

While You Were Sleeping

It's been a while since Mr. Man had one of his "nightmares" or "outbursts"! Last night was great though! Somewhere between midnight and 3 am he shot upright and YELLED
"THAT"S ENOUGH!"
Well, it was enough to wake me up, anyways. He always seems like he's awake and goofing off to me when these outbursts happen, but I quizzed him this morning on his dreams and he was shocked and amused with his hooting and hollering! The next one made me think he may have been having a parenting nightmare. Bolted upright and yelling loudly(I really wish I could have recorded this!):
"Aughhhhhhhhh.... Get all these toys off the fllllllllllllipppin' floor!"
Then there was the somewhat incoherent one that I did my best to interpret:
"I"M UP TO MY ANKLES IN THIS HALLWAY!"
(Interpretation/Explanation: Lately we've had sick kids and a lot of awakenings... when they are up for good in the morning we've been dragging our feet and staying in bed as long as we possibly can... this has resulted in the hallway being absolutely strewn with toys. Usually I'll get up and go to the bathroom and yell out my ultimatum, that by the time I get out I better be able to walk down the hallway without stepping on a toy or it goes in the trash! It's worked, but apparently has also given my husband nightmares!!!)

So if it's not my kids waking me up in the night, it's nice to know I can count on Mr. Man for a late late late night comedy show!

Nothin' but the Tooth

We do our best to tell our children the truth; to answer the questions they so constantly pose and to teach them to be able to search for and ultimately distinguish truth. But when it comes to Santa Claus, St. Nicholas, Rudolph, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy... Mr. Man and I have tales to tell that would make you believe. Personally, I find the Easter Bunny to be the most unbelievable mystical creature that comes in the night... and, as my husband can attest, I find the Tooth Fairy to be the most realistic.

The tooth fairy has been a frequent subject of conversation in our home as of late. Big J lost her first two teeth last January and it seems she has been wiggling the rest constantly since. Just over a week ago she lost her third tooth and also started a love hate relationship with the tooth fairy. When I was young I would write the tooth fairy letters and she would write back telling me what she was using my teeth for – once one especially tiny and shiny one was used as a doorknob for her castle door! I mentioned this to Big J and she became obsessed with writing a letter to the tooth fairy and was really more anxious for the letter than the 2 quarters that would also be left behind. Mr. T however started telling her tales of how “scary” the tooth fairy was. I suppose any midnight visitor is a little bit alarming, but he didn’t want her to visit at all! Big J then became convinced that the Tooth Fairy may turn her into a toad! Long story shortened, we wrote a letter, including a note from myself asking T.F. not to turn my daughter into a toad and she left her tooth pillow and note in our bedroom for extra security purposes. The tooth fairy came and left her expected tooth exchange money, a lovely note and a penny for good luck (with assurances that she knows no bad magic and would be using her tooth to decorate her rose garden surrounding her castle).

All fear vanished, Big J was once again infatuated with T.F. and thankfully had another very loose tooth! Lately she has moaned and groaned at mealtime, because everything we eat is too hard for such wiggly teeth. She has extended bedtime because of her fear of losing a tooth while sleeping, and even tried to get out of going to school today because she thought if her tooth fell out she would definitely lose it in her kindergarten classroom. (We solved the problem by putting a ziplock bag in her backpack to hold her tooth should it fall out.) Today when we picked Big J up from school I was met with a grin that looked more like a jack-o-lantern than my little girl! (but her tooth was safe and sound... and well-preserved too!)

(The mother in me has to post a "cute" picture too!)

Tonight she bravely put her tooth pillow on her dresser and wrote the following note:

Dear Tooth Fairy,

I hope you will take my tooth today. I think you will be a little bit upset because I lost another tooth and I hope you would be a little bit happy because I am sending a letter from the computer. I am going to be the tooth fairy for Halloween but I need to find a bigger costume than you. It is purple though. I want to send you a picture. Soon I will send you a picture. Tonight I am doing photographs with my Mommy.
Take care and know how much I enjoy you coming to visit me. I just like it sooo much.

Love, Jube Jube

Such an innocent sweet little face! Who could ever lie to such a child? For ours, it's nothin' but the tooth! I'm now off to do my tooth fairy duties... just keeping it real!

(Note: This post will self-destruct as soon as my daughter learns both to read and surf the net.)