Happy New Year!

It's that time of the year again, where we reflect on the past 12 months, and start to draw up a new list of resolutions for the next 12. I know my husband's list will be same as last year's - lose weight, exercise more, eat healthier, spend more time with the kids, don't get too stressed about work, etc etc.

Instead of working on my list, I've decided to procrastinate by drawing up a list of resolutions for my kids.

For Devlin, I would resolve that he stop having pee-pee accidents, stop sassing back to his parents, stop whining, and learn how to read.

For Ceilidh, her new year's resolution list would include not tackling/pinching/kicking Devlin whenever they have a difference of opinions, play more gently with Aisling, try eating at least one vegetable at dinner without fuss and pick up her toys upon being asked once, not ten times.

Aisling isn't quite 2, so her resolutions are simple. Sometime before the end of 2010, she will be potty trained, give up the soother and continue eating as well as she does. Oh, and stop pulling on Mommy's hair to get her attention.

Well, upon reviewing these resolutions, I've realized it's just made my list even longer, since I've got to incorporate all of their goals into my own. Do I have a list to "better myself" in 2010? Sure. It's simple. I am going to resolve to be more patient with the kids (very hard to do), be more loving to my spouse (also hard when said spouse is driving me up the wall and doesn't respond to requests which then leads to repeated requests, or more commonly referred to as "nagging" by all husbands), be more effective at work (probably the most attainable of my goals), and keep a less cluttered house (that should really be my husband's resolution).
Of course, it's easy to write down these goals, but the hard part is figuring out how to attain them. Should I read more parenting articles? Go on more "date nights" with husband? Ignore spouse's failure to complete a chore and just do it myself? Take more days off work so I can walk my kids to school? Pick my battles and let there be at least one day of the week where the kids get to eat whatever they want so there are no dinnertime battles? Embrace the dust bunnies and cobwebs that inhabit our house, and revel in the chaos that reigns in our home?
I've got the rest of the year to figure this out, so I'll keep you all updated. In the meantime, from our home to yours, we wish you all the best for a happy, healthy, and prosperous 2010!

Christmas 2009

While December 25th has come and gone, it's still Christmas holidays, so I can still blog about the season. We're spending the holidays in Windsor (my hometown) with my family, as we usually do, and enjoying every minute of it. There's been many memorable moments (and some, not so much, like Aisling getting car sick on the drive down, and throwing up all over her new outfit. Don't ask why I would even think about putting her in a cute new outfit for the trip. Obviously, not thinking. But now, we're seriously considering draping a garbage bag over her whenever we embark on car trips.)
Here are a few of "snapshots" of Christmas 2009:

- Devlin announcing that he will give another new toy to a child without toys this Christmas.

- Picture all three kids staring with eyes as wide as saucers at the Christmas tree and all of the presents underneath. And then a curious hand that reached out to grab a bulb, and lo and behold, the ornaments are not plastic! One crying infant and glass shards everywhere!

- At the Christmas Eve candlelight service, there were plastic candles that actually lit up for the children to hold. Aisling promptly stuck her's in her mouth, and her face glowed, like a radioactive alien.

- At the same Christmas Eve service, Ceilidh spent almost the entire time sitting on Uncle Billy's lap and showered him with kisses and hugs.

- Santa's letter to the children stated the cookies and milk were quite yummy, but he was unable to finish eating all of the cookies because poor Rudolph wouldn't be able to pull the sleigh! Devlin, eyes wide with awe, said, "Rudolph is for real!"

- I was pleasantly surprised at the restraint the children displayed at having to wait to open the gifts until after Christmas brunch was eaten. Stockings were opened upon waking, and there were lots and lots of candy and chocolates in the stockings. Everytime we turned around, Ceilidh had yet another chocolate or candy in her mouth. We thought we had taken away all of the candy, but she still manages to find more!

- It was a pleasure to watch the sheer excitement all the children displayed as they opened each gift. It didn't matter if the wrapping paper gave away to a toy or to pyjamas or socks, the happiness beamed from every pore of their bodies. Aisling even started to undress halfway through the presents to put on her new pjs and socks.

- Devlin, after unwrapping two sets of Lego, turned to his uncle, and asked, "Uncle Billy, will you play with me after and help me make all of these toys?" How could Uncle Billy resist? After all the packages had been opened, and the wrapping paper cleared away, Bill headed to the basement while stating "Going to go play with my best friend."

- Mommy received a "slap chopper", just like the ones "as seen on TV". Devlin viewed the commercial and was sold on the idea as a great gift for Mommy as it would help her with all the cooking, so he badgered Daddy to take him to the mall to purchase one Slap Chopper. I think it will not only help me in food preparation, but it will also aid in taking out my frustrations with children!

- Ceilidh poured many cups of tea for Uncle Nowell with her princess tea set. She may have served some cookies and cake too.

- Aisling practised her new phrase "No Way!" whenever she was asked to leave Mommy's lap, or give Mommy 5 minutes to shower/get dressed/finish a cup of coffee/ or generally detach herself from Mommy.

- Ceilidh informed her grandmother that only her Daddy knew how to say bedtime prayers. She was the only one awake when Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Billy and Auntie Grace went out to the movies. She had a blast watching DVDs with Grandma, and when it was time for prayers, she was quite adamant that Grandma didn't know how to do prayers.

- Aisling pooped on the bathroom rug after getting out of the bath, much to Uncle Billy's horrified disgust.

- We took Devlin and Ceilidh ice skating at an outdoor rink. Despite their obvious excitement about the activity and their impatience to arrive at the rink, Devlin sulked once on the ice, and Ceilidh decided she didn't like it. Devlin wanted Daddy's attention all to himself. Ceilidh cried, with tears rolling down her face, that it was too cold and she wanted to go home. Which was fine with me, as my back ached from bending over to hold her up on the ice. However, she stopped her tears upon spying some other skaters enjoying french fries. "I smell food! I'm hungry!"

- While Grandma may not have spoiled the grandkids with presents, she spoiled them by catering to whatever food urge they displayed. It's the holidays, and apparently, that means no one has to eat a vegetable if they don't want to. Ceilidh has consumed numerous packets of roasted seaweed, rice and instant ramen noodles, all followed by chocolate cake or Christmas cookies. Devlin has eaten croissants every morning, accompanied by mini hot dogs. And bacon every morning for Ceilidh!

- When asked why we celebrate Christmas, we tried to explain to Devlin that it was Jesus's birthday. Why is it Christmas every year? We answered that just like every June 18 is Devlin's birthday, every Christmas is Jesus' birthday, so it's like a birthday party for the Baby Jesus. Well then, Devlin wanted to know how God fit into the whole Christmas story. Jesus is God's son. Having bypassed the story about Mary and Joseph, and the angel Gabriel, and the trip to Bethlehem, Devlin's next question was "Who was God's wife? If Jesus is God's son, then who did God marry?" That left us stumped as how to answer that, so we told him to ask his grandfather, a retired minister, who would know all the answers.

And after all the holiday excesses and craziness and stress, it was Devlin who reminded us of the true meaning of this season. When asked what Christmas was about, he answered with conviction, "It's all about loving and sharing!"

Merry Christmas to All and To All, a Good Night!

Mmmm...bacon...

The other morning I was accosted by Ceilidh. As I made my way into the kitchen, she threw herself at me, and hugged my legs with her famous strangling "Ceilidh" hugs, and shouted, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"Thank you for what?"
"Thank you for buying bacon! I am so excited! I love you!"

Wow! We have bacon every Sunday morning, with the pancakes that Daddy cook up. And yes, Ceilidh does love her bacon, but what a grateful, enthusiastic, appreciative response.

Child - you are getting bacon in your stocking this Christmas!

Maybe we're not so bad as parents!

When we despair about our performance as parents, there are little moments that illustrate to us, that maybe, we're not doing so bad.
Last night, Devlin woke up in the middle of the night, crying because his feet were cold. We think they're numb and he's feeling pins and needles. The doctors suggest it's growing pains. (Really? Cuz he ain't growing so much!) He woke up several times, and I am exhausted! But there he was, crying and whimpering. The commotion woke up Aisling. She crawled out of bed, toddled over to Devlin, and upon seeing how upset he was, she tried to give him a hug and comfort her older brother.
When we were at the in-law's last night for the Christmas celebration, I watched my son ask for a bowl to eat his fruit and then take the bowl and fork and put it in the kitchen sink when he was finished. He also decided to clean up all the toys in Grandma's basement before supper rather than wait until much later. Of course, his reasoning was that he was going to play with his new toys that he was getting for Christmas after supper. Still, it was refreshing to see Devlin, Ceilidh and Aisling clean up the toys with minimal prompting before marching upstairs to eat.
And just when we were wondering if we would ever be able to teach our children the spirit of giving, especially after last night's excesses, my son surprised me this morning. He woke up early to check out the toys he had received last night. We noticed he had gotten two of one particular action figure. I pointed that out to him. "Do you really need both?" I asked. He pondered that, and picking up one large action figure, he said, "Mommy, you can give this one to the kids who don't have any toys to play with." I was filled with pride at that moment, and there were tears in my eyes as I hugged him and thanked him for his sharing.
So, maybe, we're doing okay as parents.

My Christmas/In-Law Rant

In this time of economic recession and over-consumerism, it's often difficult to teach children the true meaning of Christmas. We try hard to get the message to our children that the Christmas season is not about Santa Claus, getting lots of presents and being in toy-heaven. Rather that Christmas is about the birth of Jesus, and the fun stuff is about spending time with family, and thinking about a special gift for someone, and focusing on those who are not as fortunate as us. For example, this year we have sponsored a child in Rwanda through World Vision.
And here is my rant...
Every year, my in-laws go overboard on Christmas gifts for the kids. We have asked them every year, more than once, to not purchase so many gifts. We have asked them repeatedly to refrain themselves and purchase one or two gifts for the kids. And every year, our requests fall on deaf years. We have always only purchased two gifts for each child. This has never changed.
Now picture this - we went to the mother-in-law's for Christmas celebration yesterday. We brought the gifts that we had selected for the nieces and nephew and grandmother. They brought over their gifts. Before the unwrapping, the children spent several hours playing together. We partook in a meal. And then madness started.
They brought out gifts only for our children. The reasoning being that the cousins would visit Grandma on Christmas Eve and receive their gifts then. So, for the next 40 minutes, our 3 children opened present after present. It got to the point, that they would rip off the wrapping paper, take a look at the toy, and toss it into the corner. The pile of new toys grew higher and higher. Apparently when we asked them to select one action figure or one My Little Pony, they understood that to mean one in every colour or model! It was gluttony at its best. (I shuddered to think of the trees that had been sacrificed to make the wrapping paper.) When they each unwrapped the one non-toy gift, we made a big deal of the Superhero and Princess underwear. We try to teach our children to be enthusiastic of whatever gift they receive. They did get excited, because such little gifts are cool too. (This morning, Devlin dropped his pants to show me which superhero underwear he was wearing.)
After our children had demolished their mountain of toys, the cousins unwrapped their meager gifts that we had brought. While we had taken some time to put some thought into the gifts, we looked horribly cheap in comparison. The looks of disappointment were evident on their faces. And if you were a kid, could you blame them?
By this time, both my husband and I were quite upset. Not that we want to seem ungracious for their efforts, but clearly our requests that they refrain from spoiling our children had been rebuffed. It was more than mere spoiling too. I counted about 12-15 gifts that each of my children received. That's more than they'll get on Christmas day from us as parent, Santa Claus, and my family. Whatever message we were trying to teach our children about Christmas was taken from us, stomped on, and thrown out the window. We felt undermined as parents and disrespected as individuals. Also, what if we had also had gotten some of the same gifts for our children? Since we're not showering our children with nearly as many gifts, how will our children perceive us on Christmas day?
They received so many gifts. It seemed to be utterly selfish and irresponsible to keep them all. I know they had some of those same toys at home already too. Under the guise of putting away the gifts in the car, I removed about a third of the gifts and placed them in a large garbage bag for the charity toy drive. When we got home, the kids didn't notice that they were missing anything. They were simply excited to play with the two toys we let them open up that night. (Another rant - what's with all the plastic and blister packaging on toy packages? Really, the packaging is adult-proof and so environmentally unfriendly!)
There, I've said my piece about my in-laws. I'm thankful that other family members are more reasonable, sensible about their gift-giving, and I can only hope that somehow, we'll be able to salvage the true message of Christmas for our children. And maybe boycott Christmas with the in-laws next year?

Adventures with Aisling

It's been a roller coaster 2 weeks with Aisling. There's never a dull moment in our household, especially with Aisling. She's always on the move, so much so, we've idly considered buying a kid's leash for her. The other night, as she ran about, she tripped and fell, and bit the inside of her mouth. Yup - lots of blood, some screaming and tears and 5 minutes later, she was off exploring again.

Aisling also had a bit of a cold last week. A gross nose, a bit of grumpiness, and unfortunately for her, constipation too. At one point, the poor kid was whimpering and saying "poo". We were visiting some good friends (Dave and Shelley) and their gorgeous new house. As the evening progressed, Devlin's temper began to show. If that wasn't enough to call the night short, we ran out of diapers and Aisling was not in a happy place. Said our good byes, and into the car before the diaper situation got more dire. (Spent a few moments reflecting on the beautiful house and came to the conclusion, that notwithstanding Shelley's tasteful decorating, the lack of clutter and toys was what really made the house stand out. Maybe one day, we'll be back to the clutter/toy-free status.)

Got home, with one grumpy boy and two little girls. Put grumpy boy in pjs and on naughty stool for a time-out. Put Aisling in tub, and then Ceilidh. All of a sudden, Ceilidh started a fuss. It appeared, that the warm bath water had its desired effect on Aisling's tortured bowels. Yup - poop in tub. And not just a little. Pretty gross. But Aisling appeared to be content.

A few days later, Aisling was back to her usual curious self. I brought in the groceries. Took 30 seconds to take of my jacket, and help Ceilidh unzip her jacket. Maybe it was 45 seconds. I went to grab the grocery bins, and found the entire carton of eggs dumped into the bin. Four eggs had cracked and were oozing onto the floor and vegetables, but miraculously 8 were still intact. And there was one very satisfied toddler looking at her handiwork. In her mind, of course, she was helping me to "unpack" the groceries. She followed me into the kitchen - and yes, I was grumbling, in between trying to scold her - to again offer her assistance with the remaining groceries. She heaved and pulled the milk bags out and dragged them to the fridge. The strawberries landed on the floor, in her eagerness to reach the cucumbers and carrots. She took a bite out of the cucumber (plastic wrap and all), and attempted to chew through the carrot bag. I saw her little hands move towards the butter and managed to scoop her out of the way, much to her displeasure.
She is a great helper, though. When I return home from work, she greets me at the door and eagerly takes my lunch bag into the kitchen and proceeds to dump the containers into the sink. Having observed it many times, when she sees me grab the laundry basket to fill with soiled clothes, she hurries into Devlin's room and drabs out his laundry basket. She then proceeds to transfer all the dirty clothes into the basket. It does take me a few minutes to sort out the darks from the whites after she's assisted, but hey, I'm not about to discourage this helpful behaviour. When it's time for dinner, Aisling eagerly runs to her chair or looks to grab the cutlery from the kitchen and bring it to the dinner table. After she's done her meal, she will announce "Done" and give you her plate. If you're not quick enough, the said plate will get dumped to the ground, along with the food that's fallen to the tray as she's quick to "clear" the tray of the stray bits of food too.
I'm sure next week will bring more tales of Aisling as we head into the holidays, gift wrap and the tempting, prettily wrapped packages under the tree.

Devlin's Christmas Assembly

A week ago, Devlin brought home the letter from school detailing this year's Kindergarten Christmas Assembly. It clearly stated that grandparents and younger siblings were welcome to attend. Since his grandparents were visiting, he issued the invite and half-heartedly suggested that Ceilidh could come too.
It was a bit crazy on the morning of the assembly. Between parents who slept in a little, children who woke up much too early, four adults trying to get dressed and breakfasts to be eaten, and one daddy who procrastinated (as usual), chaos reigned supreme. The only calm individual was Ceilidh, who was dressed and ready to go before anyone else. She had her hair combed and pinned with the Hello Kitty elastic, her pink pearl Hello Kitty jewellery adorned her arms, neck and fingers and Hello Kitty socks on her feet too. She waited patiently, and proceeded to put on her pink winter jacket and pick sparkly shoes when given the go-ahead. I swear she looked like a refugee from the land of Hello Kitty.
Anyways, the assembly was wonderful entertainment. It's great to watch children sing and dance with excited waves to family member. Before shyness and reservations set in, before it's "not cool" to sing with abandon, before it's embarrassing to wave to your parents. It was hilarious to watch some 35 kindergarten students of every race and ethnicity belt out tunes about Santa. Devlin's class is a great representation of how multi-cultural our society has truly become.
And there was Grandpa with his camera (mommy and daddy forgot their camera), and Grandma beaming and waving frantically.
Afterwards, there were crafts and activities for the children and parents. Ceilidh, apparently enjoyed it so much, she didn't want to go home!

Christmas Stress

The problem with being too organized (is there such a thing?) around Christmas time is that it leads you open to more stress later on. Well, only if you want to be greatest mom and not disappoint your children on Christmas day.
I actually thought I had Christmas under control this year. Made up some cookie dough, and it's sitting int he freezer, ready to be sliced and baked. Two other cookie recipes are ready to be prepared, that is, all ingredients in pantry. Christmas cards ordered, picked up, addressed and mailed out. (No personal hand-written message though. I'm not super-human!) 80% of Christmas presents purchased and hidden - not yet wrapped. All gifts for husband's side of the family done! Teacher's gift selected - just needs to be wrapped before Friday. And since we're spending the holidays with my family in my hometown, I don't have to worry about holiday meals - just looking forward to some relaxing days spent with family.
I was actually feeling relaxed, perhaps even a bit smug! Until I was presented with the letter to Santa from Devlin. It had one item on it - Captain America. Last year, he was into the DC Comics Superheroes, and his fascination was accommodated. This year, it's Marvel superheroes. For those of you who don't know, DC Comics are Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and the rest of the Justice League characters. Marvel Comics are Spiderman, the Fantastic Four, The Hulk, IronMan, and the rest of the Avengers. Captain America too. I know I purchased some Spiderman and Ironman figures, but Captain America wasn't even on my radar.
So, off I went to the toy store on my lunch hour. No luck. Called the husband and suggested he go hunting at the toy store near his office. Also no luck. Starting to feel a little stress about this. But also wondering if Devlin will be distracted with all the other presents. Or maybe, borrowing a page from my parents, I could arrange for a letter from Santa Claus to indicate there weren't any Captain Americas left in the workshop, and would he settle for a difference superhero? Except, which superhero?
I'll try one more time tomorrow at neighbourhood department store.
At least Ceilidh was easy. Anything princess related will appease her - at least for this year. Aisling, I'm sure will be content with whatever she gets. Even the wrapping paper and bows.

Are you my mommy?

Remember that book where the little chick or duck hatches out of its egg all alone? The newly hatched fowl then goes on a tour of the farm looking for its mother? "Are you my Mommy?" it asks all the various animals, before finally meeting up its mother. This, of course, goes against the much touted theory that newborn human babies all know their mother by smell. There is some study that newborns can distinguish their mothers by the scent of the breast milk, and will move towards the "correct" female body. There's also a study that indicated newborns can also recognize their mother's voice, since they've become familiar with the mother's voice from the womb. The support being that newborns will turn towards their mother's voice and be more easily soothed by it than any other sound. As a baby's eyesight is still all fuzzy and grainy, this reliance on the other senses is astounding.
In my opinion, this is all warm and fuzzy research designed to impart a sense of security to the new parent who is terrified of not being able to bond with their new baby. I further will theorize that the ability to recognize the mother's voice is probably a reflex that is soon lost as the child ages. (Like the Babinski and startle reflexes in newborns.) How else to explain why children no longer respond when you call their name or ask them to do something?
I'm also thinking that the eyesight thing might not improve that much. (Or maybe it's just my kids.) One hopes that your children will be able to recognize you by sight. I'm wondering about Aisling.
The other day, while flipping through a magazine, the kids came upon an advertisement featuring an Asian model. Aisling pointed to it, and said "Mama!".
And it's just not me that she has trouble distinguishing. A few nights, she picked up the book I had been reading. On the cover of the smutty romance novel, was a picture of a handsome, buffed male model with dark brown hair embracing a blond woman (yeah, yeah, one of those books - it's my one vice, okay!). Aisling points to the male and says "Daddy!".
When is it too soon to get a child's eyesight checked?
While laughing about this, I remembered when Devlin was about Aisling's age, he would point to any advertisement showing a hair covered arm, and say "Daddy!".

Filled with Naughtiness!

In case some of you readers got the impression that my rugrats are angels at all times, I am sorry to say that I have misled you. The sad fact is, these munchkins are often filled with mischief that soon turns into outright naughtiness. Unfortunately, there are days that we have surpassed the two minute warning, the 5 minute penalty on the naughty stool, the promised smack on the bum, all to no avail.

Last weekend was a prime example.

Devlin woke up whiny. Of all the misbehaviours, whining tops my list. I can't stand to listen to that. The morning started off on the wrong foot. Then Ceilidh joined in. Not to be outdone, Aisling decided to cling and whine also. Wayne and I did rocks, paper, scissors to see who get the first escape (i.e. the shower).

We held out the promise of an afternoon outing to the movies if they behaved. They didn't.

There was a disagreement over the breakfast menu. Then Devlin wanted to play a board game with Daddy. Ceilidh wanted to play too. Fine. Then Ceilidh and Devlin decided to argue over who got to sit where. They pushed at each other, until inevitably one child landed on the floor. A trip to the naughty stool. No apology or remorse. Another trip to the time-out stool.

Ceilidh refused to get ready for dance class. Devlin whined about getting ready for skating. (Really, maybe we should have just refused to take them to their lessons. But that's punishment for the parents who don't get even a 30 minute break from this craziness.) Ceilidh wanted Daddy to take her to dance. I needed to go because I had errands to run. Put crying Ceilidh into car. Left whining Devlin and clingy Aisling at home to get ready for skating.

Returned home after dance class. Ceilidh's mood has improved drastically. Devlin's has deteriorated even more so. Aisling was at least napping, albeit briefly.

After lunch, there was another tussle. Someone got hit in the face. Someone got pushed to the floor. Someone got their cheeks pinched. Someone else got their hair pulled. If I had a whistle, I would blown it. Instead, we enforced naps on all three. Two complied, but the youngest refused. And she kept trying to wake up her older siblings. Apparently, wreaking havoc isn't any fun without your cohorts. I needed a nap!

At my wits' end, I took Aisling out to the Walmart while the other two slept. We picked up some needed items. She started rubbing her eyes while in the check out line. Got her into the car seat. Started the drive home. Her eyes started to droop. Drove around the neighbourhoods while she gently snored. Pulled into the empty driveway. (I guess Daddy thought taking the kids to the movie which they so didn't deserve was better than dealing with another 2 hours of whining/ fighting/craziness.) Aisling was still asleep. So, I unloaded the purchases while I left her in the car. Still she slept. I gently undid the car seat harnesses. Still snoring gently. Picked her up and brought her in. Still asleep. Took off her shoes and unzipped the jacket. Eyes still closed. Put her in bed and gently removed jacket. Still sleeping. Got up to leave the room, and ...Aisling is now awake. Despite all efforts, she refused to close her eyes again.

By the end of the day, any thought of spending some alone time with my spouse and a bottle of wine after the kids were asleep were long gone. Rather, when the kids fell asleep, we, too, were asleep.

Your daily smile

There was a light dusting of snow on the ground this morning. Devlin, upon discovering this after waking up, shouted with joy, "My wish came true! It finally snowed!"

Ceilidh woke up and immediately headed to the tree. Disappointment was evident as she asked, "Why Santa didn't come last night?" Mummy's task was to gently explain that there are 24 more days before Santa arrives.

And Aisling? She made a bee line for the tree and two more ornaments hit the ground before someone caught up to her.

Here comes Trouble!

It's not even December 1st, and we've put up the Christmas tree. Quite a feat for a family where there's always a mad rush on Christmas Eve to get last minute gifts. But we promised Devlin the tree would get decorated after the Santa Claus parade. We saw the big jolly fellow in red on the weekend. All the other homes on our block are decorated. Can't risk looking like the Grinch. So, after dinner, we went about putting up the tired looking tree and tried to decorate.

I know we've always put up a tree every Christmas, but I can't ever remember it being such a challenge as this year. Between over-eager hands and shortening parental tempers, there were a few breakages. But the most troublesome factor was Aisling. Every ornament that went up was touched and pulled off. The breakable ornaments went way up on the tree, out of her reach. (Tree looks top-heavy.) The plastic ornaments bounced on the floors really well, much to Aisling's delight who clapped with glee. After chasing one too many ornaments across the floor, we decided to leave off a third of our ornaments. Thinking back, I should have predicted this. It was the lure of the ornaments last Christmas that got our little baby crawling - towards the tree - and reaching up to bat at the ornaments, much like a cat!

Aisling is 18 months old!

Aisling turned 18 months old yesterday. We didn't mark the day with any special event. In fact, it wasn't until the end of the day, that we realized the significance of the date. That's what happens when you have more than one child - you stop marking the "month" anniversaries. You forget to write down when the child starts to crawl, take their first step, try a new food. I've tried to note down some of the big milestones in the first year of each child's life. A special baby's first year calendar helps, along with stickers for silly occasions like "first laugh", "first trip to grandparents" and the one sticker we never used - "slept through night".
But let's get back to Aisling, who at 18 months has established herself as the most vocal family member. If I get ready to leave the house without kissing her, she runs after me, shouting "Mama" while turning her face up for a kiss. When I arrive home each night, she greets me with a big smile and tries to help me take off my jacket. If she hears anyone mention the words "Time to go" she runs to the door and gets her shoes.
She insists on having her turn to speak with whomever is on the phone. "Talk, talk" she says as she reaches for the phone. (This may come in handy for the telemarketers who call.) She does not toddle - she runs. She is starting to insist on walking down the stairs instead of crawling. But the stairs to the basement - she slides down.
I've mentioned before that Aisling is the most adventurous eater. She loves nori - the roasted seaweed that's used to wrap sushi (called paper in our home). She's also discovered a liking for hummus. Of course, potato chips still top her list, and now she's discovered the hiding place for such treats! The other night, when someone mentioned "chips", she ran to the cupboard, and reached in, behind all the other obstacles, and triumphantly pulled out the half-eaten bag.
Last night, the bath water was drawn and the two older kids were splashing in the tub. Usually, Aisling is the first to race up the stairs when she hears the water running. No Aisling anywhere near the tub. Where was she? I found her downstairs, playing with Ceilidh's toys and trying on Ceilidh's sparkly princess shoes. Hilarious. When I tried to take a picture of her with the sparkly shoes, Aisling quickly looked up and grinned, with her head tilted, clearly posing for the photo.
I know my little preemie baby is getting older. She will now sit for a bed time story or two. If you ask her to find her soother/jacket/bottle, she will. She loves to drink water from daddy's water bottle. She insists on walking everywhere. When we went to the zoo on the weekend, she walked while the other two opted to ride in the chariot. She still won't sit to watch Baby Einstein, but gleefully pointed out the animals at the zoo. Even tried to chase after the peacock that was strutting around the snack bar.
Her vocabulary is slowly starting to expand. But even without words, she expresses her love with her wet kisses, her big smiles and her running hugs. After returning home from the emergency room with Devlin, I crawled into bed next to a soundly sleeping Aisling. In her sleep, she curled into me, and wrapped her arms tightly around my neck and snuggled.
Aisling - it's been an exciting 18 months, and I know this is just the beginning!

A very rough 24 hours for Devlin

It's been rough going for Devlin - but he's finally napping peacefully now. Yesterday afternoon, while tidying up the basement which is what they do every afternoon, Ceilidh and Devlin were horsing around. Also per usual. Except, Ceilidh picked up the handle from Daddy's exercise machine and threw it. Unfortunately, Devlin's head was in its pathway. He ended up with a small gash, just above his left eye. I'm sure there were lots of tears and blood. I wasn't home when it happened, but when I walked in the door some 4o minutes later, Devlin had stopped crying. The wound was no longer bleeding, but it was evident that the skin had broken. Ceilidh mentioned nothing of the incident while Devlin poured forth details and details of his injury.
It was bit of history repeating itself as I recalled a time when my sister Shunaha received stitches to her forehead, courtesy of our brother Bill.
Off we went to the walk-in clinic. After a 30 minute wait with a restless 5 year old, we were ushered into see the doctor on duty. Who happened to be my family doctor, and a good friend of my sister's. He took a quick peek and advised that skin glue (kind of like krazy glue for skin) would do a great job of minimizing any potential scar. For his own child, he would opt for the glue rather than sutures. Unfortunately, clinics don't stock glue, so off we went to the nearest emergency room.
The last time I visited the emergency room, it was very long wait. Dreading the interminable wait ahead of us, we stopped at home to pick up Daddy, books and toys for entertainment and to say good night to the girls. It was pretty late, and now Devlin was hungry. He was no longer complaining about the boo-boo on his head, but about the stomach pains because he was so hungry. This is one of those times you're grateful for having made the decision to hire a live-in nanny. We were able to leave our girls with Novelyn, knowing they would be fed, bathed and put to bed without us having to worry about it, so we could concentrate on Devlin.
While we answered the routine questions, got registered, gave assurances that no one in our family was displaying flu-like symptoms, and the flu was NOT the reason for the ER visit, Daddy went in search of food.
We finally made it to the ER waiting room and handed over the charts. There weren't many patients ahead of us, and it seemed like people were being seen fairly quickly. Hope that we wouldn't be there that long started to grow. Then it died as there was first 20 minutes, then 30, then 45, then 75 minutes before anyone else was allowed to enter the "treatment areas". The sign "Please take a seat. The nurse will be with you shortly" mocked us every time we looked at the clock. I began to wonder if the definition of "shortly" had evolved into "sometime in the next 12-18 hours". Daddy and I took turns reading stories and playing with Devlin. The waiting area became more populated as walk-in clinic hours ended for the evening. We watched Dancing with the Stars, House, Castle. And still no one called Devlin's name. And we watched the clock, because everyone knows you can't sew up a wound after 12 hours.
Finally we got called. We were ushered into a triage area, and told to sit on the stretcher and ...wait again! At last, a tired looking man arrived. He poked and prodded at the gash, and then announced that glue might not be a great option as Devlin would still likely have a small scar.
Doctor: So, it's really up to you.
Me: Will the glue help?
Doc: Oh yeah, it'll help but he'll probably still have a mark.
Me: Do the glue.
Doc: Are you sure? There's a risk of infection.
Me: And there wouldn't be a risk of infection if we left it to heal as is, and possibly have a bigger scar? Do the glue.
Doc: Are you SURE?
Me (wanting to scream but managing to control my tone and volume): Yes, do the glue. (I haven't sat here waiting all night, trying to entertain this child, while second guessing my decision to go to the hospital while alternately wondering if he'll be forever scarred and maimed only to be told "forget it".)

In the end, it took 90 seconds to glue the wound. Some words about watching out
for infection. And we were out of there. Exhausted. Relieved. Sleepy.
Although I think Devlin enjoyed the time alone with mommy and daddy, even if it was in a noisy, crowded ER. He did once comment that he missed Ceilidh and Aisling. At least, he bore no ill will towards Ceilidh.

That would have been that except this morning, Devlin had his appointment with the allergist. Some more waiting around in a nicer looking area. Some more time reading stories with Mommy. He heard one little boy cry, and wondered if it was going to hurt. Before I could answer, we were called in.
I explained some of the allergic reactions Devlin had experienced over the past year, and the decision was made to test his reaction to several potential allergens. Which meant lots of skin pricks on his back. He was told to lie on his tummy while I gently held him. The first part wasn't bad. It involved the nurse placing the allergens on his back - little drops of liquid. Then came the ticklish part where she wrote on his back with a pen, noting what liquid spot was what.
Then came the pain. The nurse tried to be quick about pricking Devlin's tiny back. The first prick stung. The second definitely hurt. By the third prick, he was squirming and crying, and yelling "Don't hurt me anymore!"
He wriggled halfway off the table, so both the nurse and I had to hold him down in a wrestling move while she quickly finished the pricking. More screams of pain, and the accusatory look of hurt in his eyes as the tears poured out was enough to make me cry. When it was all over, and we were waiting for the skin reactions to begin (and boy, did they ever!), Devlin kept crying and lamenting "This is the worst day ever!" Even promises of treats wouldn't calm him down.
He finally calmed down after I promised he could pick out a candy at the mall. There were lots of hugs and kisses before he finally forgave me for bringing him to this place. "I don't ever want to come to this doctor again!" he stated.
Unfortunately, based on his reactions to peanuts, lentils, cat hair and some others, it looks like we'll be back at the doctor's in another couple of years.
And so, that was Devlin's horrible, no good, terrible adventure with the medical world.

I'm just a spring chicken

There's nothing like a five year old to make your day.

Devlin watched as I worked out one morning. As I grunted and sweated through lunges, push-ups, tricep extensions - he patiently sat in a chair, wrapped in a blanket and kept up a commentary on my progress. When I finished, he remarked, "You must be strong now, after all that essersizin'. "
Me: I don't know. Mommy just wants to stay in shape.
Devlin: Why?
Me: I don't want to get old.
Devlin: Well, how old are you?
Me: How old do you think I am?
Devlin (ignoring my side-step): How old are you?
Me: Thirty-seven.
Devlin: Oh, you're still little. My Daddy is forty six!

If that's a compliment, I'll take it!

And incidentally, this "my Daddy this" and "my Daddy that" is amusing at times, and embarrassing at other times. Like when we're at the check-out line, and Ceilidh and Devlin are both talking about "my Daddy". I feel like one of those ladies with 3 different baby daddies!

Devlin - Mea Culpa

Devlin is allergic to peanuts. We suspected something was up when he gagged and threw up after a taste of peanut butter. But since he was 18 months old, and he had a very strong gag reflex, we didn't take it too seriously. A few months later, after a very very tiny nibble of a Mrs. Fields' peanut butter cookie, he vomited, in projectile-fashion. Now we were freaked out, and after a six month wait to see the pediatric allergist, our fears were confirmed.
So, we began to carry a epi-pen with us, read the labels, rid our house of peanut products and mourned the fact that Devlin would never enjoy a simple lunch of p.b.& j. As two people who love peanut butter, we confined our peanut binges to outside the home when we were at work. Fortunately, he didn't demonstrate any allergies to tree nuts - almonds, pecans, walnuts, macadamia nuts. As parents of a peanut-allergic child, we became educated in the differences between peanuts, which are members of the legume family, and tree nuts. This also meant we had to watch Devlin's reactions upon eating other well-known legumes, like beans, chick-peas, lentils, even peas! Fortunately for us, he vomits after ingesting the offending item. The epi-pen is precautionary at this point, and hopefully will remain just that.
Devlin's also allergic to dogs and cats. When he pets an animal, and then makes contact with his face, his face puffs up. (Which is why there are no pets in our family.) We've notes that he's thrown up after having one bite of peas and a sip of ham and lentil soup. All foods he ate as a baby and toddler without reactions, but this may be a sign of the allergy becoming more severe. He's also recently broken out in hives, but we're unsure of the trigger. His eczema is flaring up too. So, there's another appointment booked with the allergist to follow-up on his condition.
In the meantime, we continue on as before. I rarely make meals with beans, and if I do, Devlin doesn't eat it. (Neither does Ceilidh, but that has nothing to do with allergies - more like 3 year old stubborness and pickiness.) We've stopped having peas. We've tried edamame and there hasn't been a reaction yet. No peanuts on pad thai. No peanut butter cookies. Ceilidh and Aisling have also been banned from peanuts, just in case. We love the fact that most indoor playgrounds and schools are peanut-free. Now that he's older, he can tell us if his tummy doesn't feel good, or if he thinks he's going to throw up. We fill out gazillions of forms for school, and send several epi-pens to the class room, just in case.
A few weeks ago, I did the post-Halloween chore of picking through the kids' candy loot and taking away all the peanut goodies. Some were easy - Reeses products, Snickers. Others not so much. But I (and Daddy) totally missed one. Mr. Big chocolate bars. I hadn't seen those in years, and it never occurred to me that there would be peanuts in there.
A few nights ago, the kids picked out their one Halloween treat after dinner. Devlin picked Mr. Big. He took one bite, and promptly announced his tummy didn't feel good. He started making like he was going to gag. Rushed him to the bathroom. Went through the garbage to look for the tiny wrapper. Pored through the teeny tiny list of ingredients. Buried halfway through the list of chemically sounding items, there it was - peanuts. My bad, Daddy bad, we all bad.
Mea Culpa Devlin. All Mommy's fault.
Just like that one time I let you take a bite of the drumstick ice cream cone, totally forgetting there were tiny peanuts on top.

I've become my parents

Remember when we were all young, and we all swore we'd never become our parents? We'd never do to our kids what our parents did to us? Well, I've become just like my parents. I've bought matching shirts for Aisling and Ceilidh. I used to hate having the exact same outfit as my younger sister. Maybe I should buy matching outfits for my "twins" instead.
I find myself repeating what my parents used to say to me at the dinner table - "Clean your plate. You're very fortunate to have good food to eat because there are starving children all over the world."
Or, "I wouldn't complain about dinner. You're lucky to have a mother and father who care enough to cook healthy and yummy food. Some children aren't lucky enough to have parents, or even enough food to eat."
And everyone knows this one: "Stop crying, or I'll give you something to cry about!"
But I realized I had become just like my parents, when I caught myself in this scenario. (Although, it's not really a bad thing because I think my parents did a great job. After all, we've all turned out okay, right?)
Devlin was upset about something. A common occurrence that happens five or six times a day in the life of a five year old. He stomped up the stairs. (Quite a feat for a child who weighs 31 pounds soaking wet.) I made him return, and go back up the stairs quietly. He stomped back up again. We repeated the exercise until he learned to ascend the stairs with quiet footfalls. And when he almost at the top, he gave one last stomp before running into his room.
That's when I saw my dad in me, and...myself in Devlin because that last act of rebellion was just like me.

Aisling's latest thing

Having older siblings is great. You have someone to play with and teach you new things. Sometimes, the older siblings pass on bad habits. Like screaming for no reason. Aisling has now learned this latest trick from Ceilidh and Devlin. When all 3 scream, they think it's hilarious, but the ruckus is enough to wake the dead.

This morning, Aisling decided to voice her displeasure of having to entertain herself for 7 minutes while I showered by screaming and screeching. Then she threw her books and toys onto the floor. Which is easier for me to deal with, than having her in the bathroom with me while I shower because then she'll play with the toilet water, or unroll the entire roll of toilet paper.

I don't like this new side of Aisling. So, when I capture a special smile from her, I hold onto it and cherish it to get through the moments when she's not so angelic.

Autumn Days

After a few very very chilly days in October, it's been nice to have a bit of a reprieve these last couple of weeks. An Indian summer, one might say. Between jumping in the leaves and enjoying a summertime treat, the children have been taking full advantage of this warm weather.

But they haven't forgotten what holiday comes soon after Halloween. The queries have started already.

"When is it going to be Christmas?"

"When are we going to decorate the house?"

"When is Santa coming?"

"When can we decorate the tree?"

"When is it going to snow???"

And since the commercials have started to air, and the flyers have begun to arrive at the door, "Can I get that for Christmas if I'm really really good?"

The Royal Winter Fair

Since both Wayne and I had the day off, we took the kids to the Royal Winter Agricultural Fair yesterday. Dubbed "where country meets city", you could easily tell our kids were truly city born and bred. They were the ones holding their noses as they gazed upon the cows, sheep, goats, various turkeys and chickens. They went "pee-yew" and gagged whenever they saw an animal defecating in front of them, and laughed hysterically at the sheep clad in their white "clansmen" styled coats after the sheep had their wool shorn. Okay, so did we. And to be honest, I had never been that close to a cow before either.

But the kids had a great time, and loved feeding the various species at the petting farm area. See Devlin's and Ceilidh's face after the first ticklish feed?

Aisling shouted out "cow" as we walked past many, many varieties of cattle. Ceilidh looked at one udder and said that it was a boy cow because there was a pee-pee on it. At least no one wanted to bring home a lamb for a pet.

There were lots of treats for all. Cotton candy, delicious fudge, gourmet lollipops, yummy fresh cut fries.

And the doggie show. After waiting in line, and sitting on bleachers for 30 minutes, while trying to keep a very very tired toddler entertained, the President's Choice Super Dog show started. It's really a bunch dogs of various breeds and sizes running through an obstacle course. The kids love seeing how fast the dogs can run and how high they can jump. It was a very entertaining show. But after all that, Ceilidh was really only interested in looking for Rover, the President's Choice dog food mascot in the rubber suit!

Devlin is half-Kornean

Devlin is becoming aware that people look different, and are probably from different parts of the world. For instance, he knows he's half-Kornean (as he used to say when he couldn't quite pronounce Korean), and he's half-mungee cake. Okay, that's a bit of a slam to his non-Kornean side, but it's pretty funny to hear him proclaim himself as such.
One day, his uncle asked him about his friends at school, and Devlin provided details about their names.
Uncle Billy: And what do they look like?
Devlin: What do you mean?
Billy: Do they look like me, or do they look like your dad?
Devlin (looking at his uncle like his uncle had grown 3 heads): They look like themselves!
Billy (laughing) : I mean, do they look Asian like me, or do they look "white" like your dad?
Devlin: They're brown, like from Africa.

So, I guess he's figuring out that different looking people originate from different parts of the world.

Then on the weekend, we had this conversation after his skating lesson.

Devlin: Mommy, you know that boy who skates and glides really good?
Mommy: Yes?
Devlin: He's Korean.
Mommy: How do you know?
Devlin: I saw his face. His eyes look closed.
Mommy (trying not to laugh): Well, he could be Chinese. In fact, I think he is Chinese.
Devlin: How come Korean eyes look closed?
Mommy: That's how God made them.

Moral of the story: It takes more than black hair and yellow skin to be Korean.

My twins

(No, not what you're thinking, Wayne!)

If I could have a nickel for every time someone asked if Devlin and Ceilidh were twins - well, I'd be rich. At about 22 months, Ceilidh suddenly shot up in height and everywhere we went, we were asked "Are they twins?" When the answer was no, people asked if they were very close in age, like 9 months apart?
They may be 25 months apart, but they're now 1/2 inch apart in height. As of last night, Ceilidh outweighs Devlin by 1 pound. How is that possible, when she hardly eats and he is always eating? Mind you, they're nowhere near the normal weight range for their ages. At 5 years of age, Devlin is still 31 pounds - 9 pounds shy of getting out of that car seat! My girlfriend gives me hand-me-downs for Devlin, from her 3 year old son.
The doctor is hopeful that Wayne's genes will kick in and Devlin will have a huge growth spurt. Maybe when he's a teenager.
In the meantime, we'll continue to field questions about our twins, and enjoy the fact that Devlin and Ceilidh are the best of playmates who can go on amusement park rides together since they're the same size!

Ceilidh - My Girly Girl

Sometimes I am amazed that Ceilidh is my daughter because I was never into the frilly dresses thing. She loves to play dress-up, and prefers to wear "pretty" colours like purple and pink, and anything with flowers. She thoroughly enjoys dance class and gymnastics.
At three years of age, Devlin was displaying some talent with handling a hockey stick and he loved to shoot pucks. He was also adept at kicking the soccer ball, and could dribble the ball with both feet. Ceilidh is not displaying the same athletic prowess in the traditional sports at age 3. Which is totally okay with us. Her talents lie elsewhere.
One afternoon, Auntie Grace and Devlin were playing a bit of ball hockey on the driveway. Ceilidh wanted to join in. Devlin suggested the goalie's position to her. She agreed. She played like a sieve. Then Ceilidh wanted to try to shoot the puck too. Despite numerous reminders and demonstrations on how to hold the stick and line up the shot, she failed to make a decent shot. She got frustrated. So, then Devlin suggested she be the cheerleader and provided her with some cheering tools. Ceilidh was in seventh heaven. This was her niche, and she played the role well.
My sister, Grace, who played various high school sports and coaches various sports teams now felt this was a huge step back in the struggle for equal rights as she watched Ceilidh happily shake her booty and cheer.
But then again, we've seen Ceilidh tackle her brother and bring him down easily. She is displaying an uncanny talent for wrestling. Who knows? She may have a future in Greco-Roman wrestling - a decidedly unladylike sport.

Funny memory of Devlin

As a medical doctor, my sister sometimes attends conferences. Sometimes, she gets really cool freebies at these conferences, like mugs or pens. Sometimes she gets t-shirts that are too big for her and she passes them on to family members. That's how Wayne got a t-shirt with a picture of a cute chubby infant breast-feeding. He's had that shirt for a few years now, and wears it at home, not infrequently. But for some reason, the picture finally caught Devlin's eye.
Devlin: Why does that baby have a big funny looking belly?
Daddy: It's not a belly. The baby is nursing.
Devlin: What?
Daddy: The baby is getting breast-fed by the mother. You were all breast fed as babies.
Devlin: Oh, you mean boobs. I've got boobs too.
Daddy: It's called breasts. And that's how mommies feed their babies.
Devlin and Ceilidh: Boobs! Ha ha.. funny.

And the message about being breast-fed was completely lost on them as they collapsed into giggles. But it brought back memories of nursing all of my babies, and a memory of Devlin when Ceilidh was an infant. Unlike other children, Devlin had no interest in breasts once the breast-feeding was over. He made the switch to bottles, and never looked back. Never once gazed upon the naked chest with longing or with smacking lips in the tub (Aisling did that once). Never showed a particular interest in what I was doing when I was feeding Ceilidh. A friend's child watched her with interest, and wanted to know if Mommy's other breast produced apple juice?
Not Devlin. The only time he displayed any interest was when I caught him walking around the house with my breast pump attached to his chest, trying to work the handle.
Really as far he was concerned, breast-feeding was a way to quiet a crying baby. He and Ceilidh were playing "pretend" one day. The baby was crying, and Devlin decided to silence the "crying baby" by bringing the teddy bear to his chest and lifted up his t-shirt!

If I don't see it, then it doesn't happen...

As a working mom with 3 kids, a crazy schedule, a long commute, I have discovered that early mornings are the best time to squeeze in a workout. I generally try to fit in about 30 minutes of cardio or weights or a combination of both, in the basement. If the weather is agreeable, I'll go for a run. The kids are usually asleep, and Wayne is still at home to deal with an early riser if necessary. Once in awhile, either Aisling or Ceilidh have woken up early, and will come down to watch me finish my workout.
Devlin has not, as is evident by this conversation he had with his Dad last night.
On the way to gymnastics, they passed by a gym.
Devlin: That's a work out place. Mommy should go there to work out.
Daddy: Why? Why not Daddy?
Devlin: Daddy, you don't need to go there to work out.
(And in case Daddy thought he didn't need to because he was already buffed, the next statement put that crazy idea to rest.)
Devlin: You have that running machine (referring to our elliptical trainer) in the basement. You can use that to work out.
Daddy: Well, maybe Mommy works out in the basement too. In the morning.
Devlin: I don't see her exercise.
Daddy: Really early, when you're still sleeping.
Devlin: Well, I'm a slow waker so I never see her exercise. Maybe Ceilidh has - she's a fast waker.

Daylight Savings

I remember, before kids, looking forward to the fall weekend when we're turn back the clocks. It meant an extra hour of sleep, and extra hour to snuggle in bed, and an extra hour of "found" time.
Nowadays, I dread that "fall back" weekend. Children don't understand "time". They simply wake up when their bodies are rested. (When's the last time we adults have ever done that?) That means, they wake up at their usual time, except, now it's 6:30 am, not 7:30 am.
And the adults? We're still hoping to find that extra hour of sleep before the "spring forward" weekend arrives.

Happy Halloween

The kids had been anticipating Halloween since Thanksgiving. They changed their minds about their costumes on a daily basis. Five days before the great day, Devlin was persuaded to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, and Ceilidh resigned herself to being Snow White. It was explained that she had lovely black hair just like Snow White, not orange like Ariel's (her first choice). Aisling accepted her junior turtle assignment without a fuss.

On Friday morning, Ceilidh woke up at 5 am, on the mistaken belief that it was Halloween. Her confusion was understandable since Devlin was getting dressed up in his costume for school. She got to don her costume and have her face painted too, but it was gently explained that Halloween wasn't until Saturday. To distract her from the threatening tears, we promised to carve the pumpkins that night. That worked.

On October 31st, both Devlin and Ceilidh were up early. They wanted to know when it would be time to go for candy. Surprisingly, we managed to get Ceilidh down for a nap, despite her excitement. And feed them dinner. Before the frenzied excitement began. Extra layers of clothing to be found and worn because no one wanted a jacket to hide the costume. Faces to be painted, and re-painted. Treat bags to be located. All in between handing out treats to the neighbourhood monsters. Finally, able to send off kids with Daddy, while I got to enjoy a few treats and clean up the chaos.

Since there weren't many trick or treaters this year (perhaps the swine flu was the scariest monster out there), it was great night for all. Lots and lots of candy for the little monsters, and lots of left-over candy for Daddy.

@#%&*!!!

One of the hardest things about being a parents is learning not to swear in front of the kids. It's especially hard for me, because swearing is a workplace hazard. I am surrounded by curse words all the time, swearing colleagues, and some of the files I work on - well a good swear word is sometimes all that's needed to describe the file.
I learned the hard way to give up the "f" word at home. When Devlin was two and a half, he was toilet trained. Then he regressed. He began to poop in his underwear. Still peed in the toilet, but the poop was always in his underwear. Putting him back into pull-ups wasn't going to help, because then he'd just pee in those. So the decision was made to keep him in underwear, and deal with the consequences. At some point, he'd revert back to pooping in the toilet. But it was difficult, and there were times the "f" word would slip out. One afternoon, Devlin told me he pooped in his underwear. As I pulled down his pants and carefully tried to pull down his underwear without dropping the poop, I said, "Oh Devlin. You know..." He interrupted me with "I know, f---."
Well, that stopped me in my tracks. I knew then and there that I had to stop swearing within earshot of the kids. I tried, and for the most I succeeded. Devlin for the most part, dropped that word from his expanding vocabulary. It came out once after that, in front of parents. Yet another shining example of my parenting skills.
So, I started using substitute swear words at home. Like freak. And unfortunately, I've started using the Lord's name in vain. (Probably a bad habit, because that still slips out, at church, no less.) The substitute words had a placebo effect. My frustrations got voiced. I felt better afterwards.
Until last night. I'm putting Aisling to sleep, and I heard Ceilidh fiddling around with the music box. She keeps cranking it up, and is unable to turn it off. Then she yells, "Daddy! Can you turn off this freaking song?"
Daddy: What???
Ceilidh: I can't turn off the freaking song. It's freaking noisy.

Great. I've just created another monster. Perhaps I should start a curse word jar - put in $1 for every swear word.

And why is it the kids mimic me? They never use the words they hear Daddy say when he's driving!

The Perfect Weekend? Not quite.

My husband has a vision of his perfect day. It's a simple day involving lots of down time playing with the kids, no work from the office, good food and more importantly, no crying children. I'd take no whining over the no crying.

We've just had a great weekend. Uncle Billy came up for a surprise visit, and he brought Windsor Pizza too. Ceilidh was thrilled.

Both the dance lesson (Ceilidh) and the skating lesson (Devlin) went well. I squeezed in a shopping trip to Costco, and both Wayne and I stocked up on Halloween candy. Forgot to double-check the grocery list I gave him. To Wayne's delight, the pantry is overflowing with treats.

The weather was nice so the leaves got raked. The backyard was tidied and toys put away. Four loads of laundry done. All on Saturday.

Then it was off to see The Wiggles at the Rogers Centre. Devlin and Ceilidh had a blast. They thoroughly enjoyed the show, and both cleaned up in the souvenir department. The Wiggles is the highest earning entertainment act from Australia. Mainly because of parents like us, who spoil their children shamelessly, even if they don't deserve it. Ceilidh even managed to score a Wiggles t-shirt due to her talent for whining and Mommy's inability to handle whining late in the day. She wore that t-shirt to bed Saturday night, wore it to church on Sunday, and wore it to bed again last night. I'm hoping she's still not wearing it when I get home tonight.

After church on Sunday, the kids got to play with Uncle Billy while we went to the Farmer's Market with Aisling. Then there was trip to the apple orchard to pick apples under the shining sun. A tractor ride, fresh juicy apples, yummy baked goods from the market stand, and a stop at the pumpkin patch to pick pumpkins for jack o' lanterns...a perfect fall day! More play time outside as we raked up more leaves and played in the backyard.

Really, a near perfect weekend, except for one thing. No naps from Ceilidh and Devlin, which meant very tired, very cranky children by bathtime. More quarrelling after baths, more threats of trips to the naughty stool, more pouting, more whining, more naughtiness.

When adults are that tired, they're more than happy to fall into bed and sleep. Not so with kids. Why? Because it means the end to a great weekend? Because it'll be another 5 days before they get to spend all day with mommy and daddy doing fun things? I'd like to think we have fun during the week too, but it's not the same. I know.

Is she trying to tell us she's ready?

Yesterday, I found Aisling in the bathroom. She was standing by the toilet, pulling down her pants. She then tried to pull off her diaper. Not sure what she was doing, I went in and peeked in her diaper. No poop. So I tried to pull up her pants. She protested a bit. I watched as she hiked up the waistband of her pants, and then reach over the toilet to flush.
Hmmm....
A few weeks ago, she brought me the container of wipes. When I looked at her, she tapped the toilet seat with her hand. I checked her diaper, or rather, I got close enough to get a whiff. Yep. Needed a bum change.
The day after that, she came running to me, and then assumed the position. You know, the one where the kids hop off the toilet, and bend over, waiting for you to come and wipe. And sure enough, there was a poop in the diaper.
Our nanny told us when she's got a poopy diaper, Aisling will hold her nose and bring over a new diaper.
She's barely 17 months, but could she be telling us she's ready to start potty training? Me thinks she's simply modelling her older siblings' behaviour, but when it's time, I hope she'll be easier to train than the others.

My kid's not a genius - I want a refund!

So, Walt Disney has now offered to refund parents the cost of the Baby Einstein Dvds if their children are not brainiacs. Apparently, some parents believed that because the series was titled Baby EINSTEIN, watching these "educational" clips would ensure their children would be intellectually superior. We own almost all of the Dvds in the Baby Einstein collection, and I don't ever remember seeing a warning that my children would learn to read at the tender age of 2, do multiplication tables by 3 and produce a Pulitzer prize winning piece of literature by 5 after viewing the programs. What idiot parent would believe that by simply passively observing some puppets and toys in actions would result in a mini-genius? Same parent that believes baby needs knee pads to cushions tender knees when baby starts crawling. (Yes, they do sell special baby knee pads for crawling.) Or same idiot parent who would spend $8 for a square container to pour water in bath tub (to prevent unnecessary splashing) rather than re-using a yogurt or plastic juice container. What's that saying - a fool and his money are easily parted.
Apparently, for some parents, having a child results in the loss of common sense, logic and brain cells. Sleep deprivation may be the culprit. But there are so many gizmos and gadgets out there for new parents, it's a bit ridiculous! Never mind the selection of strollers, car seats and slings. I'm talking about the ergonomic baby spoons, the colour-coordinated soother pods, the bum wipe warmer (god forbid something cold should touch baby's bum), the various sound monitors and video monitors for a sleeping baby, and special mitts to put on parents' hands to wash baby and to prevent baby from slipping out of parents' hands. Also saw terry cloth apron to wear when washing baby to prevent parent from getting wet. Sorry, but the splashing is what makes baths fun! I've even seen a contraption for parents to hold up toddler when said toddler starts walking. i think it's to prevent back pain for parents, but sore backs are part of parenthood. The aches from bending over to hold trusting child's tiny hands is nothing compared to observing and experiencing the wonderment in child's face as they realize they're walking. And wait until bigger kids start asking (whining) for a piggy-back ride because the novelty of walking is gone, and their little legs are tired.
Let's be honest. We parents did not purchase those Baby Einstein Dvd's in the hopes of ensuring our children would be become Oxford scholars. We purchased them in the hopes of getting 8 baby-free minutes in which to shower without interruption and maybe, maybe, make a phone call or two, or throw in a load of laundry without having to lug baby too. Once in awhile, the dvds were helpful in shovelling a spoonful or two into fussy baby while baby was distracted by the cute puppets on screen. The sole purpose of those Dvds is to preserve the parents' sanity. Devlin loved watching them, Ceilidh not so much, and Aisling couldn't care less. She'd rather dig through a bin of toys or chase her older siblings.
The only genius here is Julie Aigner-Clark, creator of the Baby Einstein series, who made millions when she sold her company to Walt Disney. I wish I could come up with a brilliant idea like this!

Kissing boys already!

Ceilidh is a very affectionate child. She will give you kisses out of the blue, and her hugs involve her throwing her arms around your neck and squeezing with all her might. She loves to cuddle on the couch or in bed, and will hold onto your arm tightly as she falls asleep. Every so often, she proclaims "I love you" very loudly and then bestows another kiss.
Yesterday, our nanny took Ceilidh and Aisling to the park. They saw Brandon, one of Devlin's classmates. When it was time to leave, Ceilidh said her good-byes and then ran up to Brandon to plant a kiss on his cheek! Brandon's older brother was disgusted by that (yuck - a kiss from a girl!) and I'm not sure about Brandon's reaction. Our nanny was amused. Upon hearing the story, Daddy was a bit worried about having to guard Ceilidh from boys (or is it the other way around?) at this young age.
Laughingly, I told Ceilidh she shouldn't be kissing random boys, and gave her a list of boys she could kiss - Daddy, Devlin, Uncle Billy, Grandpa, Uncle Nowell.
Ceilidh, on the other hand, couldn't understand the fuss and instead told us to "stop talking about her".

Teaching political correctness at age 5

The other day Devlin mentioned to his auntie Grace that he had seen two boys kissing on the t.v. show Brothers and Sisters. First off, we do not make a habit of letting our kids watch such television shows, or any t.v. after 9pm. But he had woken up and wanted to snuggle with Mommy and Daddy. He crawled between us, wrapped a blanket around us, and we thought he had fallen asleep.
For those of you who never watch the show, there are two male, gay characters (Scottie and Kevin) who are married to one another. I love the show because the dysfunctionality of the loving family reminds me of my own crazy but happy family. Despite whatever problems they must face, the family members all unite together to offer support and there's generally a happy ending at the end of the hour.
Anyways, back to the topic at hand. Devlin must have glimpsed a scene where Scottie and Kevin share an embrace and a kiss. He never made mention of it to us, nor did he ask us any questions. But in chatting with Auntie Grace, he brought it up, out of the blue. Auntie Grace, being the teacher that she is, asked him how he felt after seeing that. Was it weird? Was it gross? Devlin pronounced it weird because boys are supposed to kiss girls, not other boys.
That could have been the end of that, but as I've mentioned before, Devlin is starting to tell jokes. Or attempting to tell jokes. Maybe he's inherited his father's quirk for telling bad/corny jokes.
So, Devlin says, "I have a joke to tell you Mommy. Two boys kissed and then got married!" He laughed in that crazy way that 5 year olds laugh when they think something is funny or gross or both.
I swallowed the response "it's only funny if you're living in Alabama or Texas" and instead sat down to explain that it couldn't be a joke, because boys can marry boys. And girls can marry girls.
Understandably, Devlin was confused. "No, boys are supposed to marry girls," was his emphatic response.

Wow, this is a conversation no parent would have had with their 5 year old a generation ago. Back then it was simple. Boys kissed girls. First came love, then marriage, and then the baby carriage. Now I have to teach my little boy that sometimes, boys will like boys, and girls will like girls. Sometimes, boys will marry boys, and sometimes, there will be babies too. Utterly confusing and difficult to grasp. Even for many adults today. There's never a right or wrong time to start teaching tolerance, acceptance and political correctness. I just thought I'd have a few more years of pure baby innocence before having to explain such intricacies of life. At least he hasn't asked me where babies come from...yet.

A special anniversary message

It's been 10 years since Wayne and I exchanged vows to be together until death do us part. Sometimes it seems like only yesterday that we were heading down the aisle, and then some days, it seems like we've been together forever! (yet, he still hasn't learned how to fold the towels to fit on the shelves in the closet.)

Over the years, there's been lots of challenges to our marriage. We started out with a weekend marriage while I was in law school in Ottawa and he kept the home fires burning in Toronto. We had summers to re-adjust to the togetherness, and there were lots of times I'm sure we wished we could throw a coffee cup or two at each other. After law school, I found an articling position somewhat near to our residence. My brother more or less lived with us for a year or two. I got my own car! We started to play ultimate frisbee together. We finally embarked on our honeymoon - four years after the wedding. A road trip out east that tested our skills as co-pilots and gave us lasting memories of dining on fresh lobsters and sampling the offerings of the local micro-breweries.

Then our first home. We busied ourselves with decorating (painting the walls) and making plans for the future. And very very soon after that, we welcomed Devlin into our lives. Another period of adjustment as we figured out how to care for this squalling infant that looked like a monkey but had us wrapped around his tiny finger. Since then, we've moved, added two daughters to the mix, bought a mini-van, managed to enjoy a couple of vacations, and grow together as a couple.

The past ten years haven't always been easy. There's been lots of times that I have fumed at Wayne, and his tendency to procrastinate. Why is it nagging if I have to ask him to do something more than once in a 24 hour period? But hey, he finally put up the shelves in the bedroom - a whole year after they were purchased. And his offer to help clean up after a meal only extends to the dishes actually in the sink.

And then there are many many things that endear him to me. Like how he scrubbed dirty cloth diapers without a complaint; or manly took over the puking child; how he hangs shelves evenly although I had my doubts when I saw his first efforts when we were engaged; how he managed to set up a ladder to coax a litter of baby skunks to leave our basement window well; how he manages to over-cook the steaks each and every time; how he appreciates my culinary efforts in the kitchen. He watches chick flicks willingly, and he got teary-eyed at the end of Monsters Inc. (yeah, the cartoon movie with the furry creatures). He still exasperates me with his obsessive need to go over every brilliant pass on the frisbee field, or his inability to find his wallet/phone/keys despite looking everywhere and then I find the missing item in the place he's searched three times. And his taste in television shows don't always jibe with mine. Really, Charmed and Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Then there's his compulsive need to place every actor's face and name the last three shows that said actor was in. It's like playing six degrees of separation every time the t.v. is on.

However, seeing him grow as a father these last several years has been the icing on the cake. I can remember the awe on his face when he first held Devlin. I love watching him cradle the babies on his chest as they slumber. When Aisling was in the special care nursery, he would would hold her gently as she was fed, and then read "Guess How Much I love You?" to her. Aisling still loves to be held and rocked by her Daddy when it's time for a nap because he sings to her. That's another thing - he can't carry a tune in a bucket but both his girls would be soothed by their daddy's lullabies.

For someone who didn't have much of a father figure in his own life, Wayne is an amazing dad. He is incredibly patient when teaching Devlin how to catch the frisbee. He spends hours with the kids playing in the park or on the driveway. He relishes the tight hugs that Ceilidh dispenses and melts when she loudly announces that she loves him. His face lights up when Aisling runs to greet him at the door and throws herself at his legs. He reads to the kids every night and says their prayers too.

There are so many facets of Wayne that makes him an incredibly supportive partner. He listens to my work frustrations and encourages me in all of my endeavours. He brings the kids to cheer for me at a race. He once rollerbladed alongside to support me when I ran a half-marathon! He occasionally yells at me when I drop the frisbee on the field. He makes the best coffee in the mornings, and on weekends, he is the pancake chef. Although, his omelettes could use a little help.

And after all these years, I still enjoy just being with him. I still laugh at his (awful) jokes. I still fall for his corny lines. I still look forward to hearing his voice on the phone, and seeing him at the end of the day.

Happy Anniversary, and here's to many many more years of laughter and happiness.

You're not an old man!

A few nights ago, Daddy groaned as he was bending down to bathe the zoo inmates.

Devlin: What's wrong Daddy?
Daddy: Nothing. it's just that Daddy is getting old and his bones hurt. I'm an old man.
Devlin: You're not old. Old people have lots of white hair. You don't have lots. So you're not old.
Daddy (laughing): Thank you Devlin. Is Mommy old then?
Devlin: No.
Daddy: What about Auntie Grace?
Devlin: No - she has no white hair. She's young.
Daddy: How about Grandma?
Devlin: No - she has black hair. She's not old.
Daddy: Well, what about Grandpa?
Devlin: Ummm, he has a bit of white hair, but he also has black hair. He's only a little bit old.

Promises of presents

My parents and my youngest sister Grace have just left for a month-long visit to Korea. For my parents, it will be the first time they have ever returned to visit together. Both have gone back on separate occasions, but because of family and work obligations, they haven't had the luxury to return to their homeland together. But it's also a journey home for my grandmother. Her ashes are to be buried in her hometown, next to my late grandfather. So, it's a homecoming of sorts, filled with the happy anticipation of seeing family and old friends (and great shopping for my sister) but also tinged with sadness.
It's been forty years since my dad left his country of birth and travelled here, looking for education and opportunities, and eventually finding a place to raise his family. It's also my parents' fortieth wedding anniversary. My dad left for Canada a few hours after the wedding ceremony, and my mother didn't join him in Canada for another 2 years. But that's a story for another day.
In preparation for their trip, my parents and sister were spending a few days with us before their departure. Grandma cooked and baked to fill our fridge with lots of wholesome food that she knows her dear grandkids will enjoy(does she think I can't feed my family?). Auntie Grace spent a day playing with Devlin and Ceilidh. Aisling got to enjoy lots of special attention from everyone.
When Devlin learned that everyone was leaving early the next morning, he got quite upset. To distract him, Auntie Grace asked him what he wanted from Korea.
G: What shall I bring you from Korea? What kind of gifts?
D: I don't know. What kind of stuff is in Korea?
G: How about new pyjamas?
D: Okay, I like pyjamas. But, ummm, Auntie Grace, what else is in Korea?
G: Lots of things. Why don't you think about it, and get mommy to send me an email with what you want.
D: I have a better idea. Why don't you go there and see what's in Korea. Then you can call me and tell me, and I'll tell you what I want.

Little Boys - part 3

Remember that Mother Goose rhyme about what little boys are made of?

What are little boys made of? What are little boys made of?

Snaps and snails, and puppy dogs' tails.

That's what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of? What are little girls made of?

Sugar and spice, and all things nice,

That's what little girls are made of.

Well, I don't know about snails and tails, but I can tell you that little boys are all filled with giggles when it comes to toilet talk. We're at that stage with Devlin where the words "pee", "poo" and "bum" will invoke fits of convulsive laughter and silly grins. He's also learning about jokes and riddles. Yep, every joke is about something involving pee or poo or something coming out of a bum. I'm surrounded by pee and poo as is, with three kids and one in diapers, and I can tell you, it's no laughing matter on the best of days. But I get it, little boys (like big boys) have an inborn need to giggle at matters involving bodily functions.

It's just when the toilet/bathroom talk comes to the dinner table that I start to lose patience. We've tried to explain that such subjects are off-limits at the dinner table, and we're also trying to suggest generally, that such topics are distasteful. But in a 5 year old's mind - how can something sooo funny and gross and disgusting be off-limits? And so, I resign myself to hearing the laughing and seeing the goofy smiles when we hear the words pee and poo. Boy, can't wait to get to the next stage when he discovers the words for certain body parts on the female.

I'm looking forward to the girls getting to this stage. I'm sure the toilet talk will not make such an impression on them, but certainly there will be some giggling over something just as silly.