A Moment of Aisling

I once read a book that indicated babies can remember faces, even when they're as young as 3 months. That's why babies love looking at round objects, according to the book. Well, after 3 kids, I take what these parenting books say with a grain of salt. Aisling, who is now 15 months, has demonstrated that it's not the face, but the hairstyle.
We were visiting our good friends Dave and Shelley last week. Both Ceilidh and Devlin love spending time with Uncle Dave and Auntie Shelley, especially checking out their sand garden (I think our kids have pretty much destroyed the garden with their vigorous raking.) and seeing what other interesting knick-knacks are lying around. Aisling is still apprehensive in new surroundings. She kept her exploring to the stairs and Mommy's legs. During the course of the evening, some more friends dropped by - Bill and Kathy and their two adorable boys. Aisling took one look at Kathy (whom we had never met before) and promptly made herself comfortable in her lap. Aisling, who not yet ventured into Shelley's arms, gave Kathy a hug. When Kathy's own son tried to sit in his mother's lap, Aisling pushed him out of the way or pulled him out by grabbing his hair. We were all surprised and amused by this behaviour. Then upon a closer look at Kathy, Wayne and I realized she had a very similar hairstyle to our nanny. Long black hair with a more tanned appearance, and also a similar clothing style - Kathy looked like Novelyn from a baby's perspective. As our nanny has been unexpectedly away, this affection that Aisling was showering on Kathy has shown us how attached she has become to Novelyn.

Good kid, Bad kid Routine

For those of you with more than one kid, ever notice that when one is acting up, the other is striving for angelic perfection? Lately, Ceilidh has been testing the limits of parental patience (and then some). As she's crying and stomping her feet, as she's shouting "No" from the top of her lungs while kicking at whatever is in the way, refusing with the stubbornness of a mule to do anything you've asked of her (like take off shoes), Devlin is sitting quietly minding his own business. This morning, Ceilidh started her tantrum at the Walmart. Yep - we were one of "those" families with the screaming kid at the store. Why? Because I wouldn't buy her a toy. Given that her behaviour went from bad to worse in a matter of seconds, it was a good thing that no toy made its way into the shopping basket. (Of course, I could have avoided this entirely by shopping sans enfants.) The crying ended in the car when I promised a cookie for all after lunch. But for some reason, only known to Ceilidh, she refused to leave the van when we arrived home. She refused to come into the house, she refused to take off her shoes, she pretty much refused to do anything. So I left her in the vestibule and carried on with the rest. Unloaded the shopping. Ceilidh still having her tantrum. Put away the shopping. Started lunch. Ceilidh still crying. Got Devlin his lunch. Got Aisling started on her meal. Ceilidh now has shoes off and inside but refusing to wash hands. Meanwhile, Devlin was being extremely super polite, and using the words "thank you" and "please" without prompting. Eventually Ceilidh calmed down enough to start her meal, and Devlin was still an angel.
I've noticed Ceilidh also puts on the super child performance when Devlin has his moments. It reminds me of when my brother Bill and I used to get in trouble from our parents. Our sister Shunaha would suddenly become the good daughter who could do no wrong. It used to make us even more mad, and I'm sure Bill aimed a kick at her shin or pulled one of her pigtails for that performance. Which then got us into more trouble - a vicious cycle!
Incidentally, kids have some incredible stubborn streaks. If only we adults had half the same drive and energy that kids put into their theatrical performances to get what we desired! There's a part of me that thinks "Way to go kid! You'll never be a pushover in life, and you'll set your own path in life. It's not mulishness, but rather a deep set drive to get what you want in life." And then there's the other part me that thinks, "why are you driving me nuts? Surely, only human children in the animal kingdom will drive their parents insane with the tantrums and deliberate testing of what their parents are made of!"

Saran wrap

The welcome I received when I returned home was nothing short of what returning war veterans would have received. As I pulled into the driveway, I could see Ceilidh peeking through the blinds. Devlin opened the door and immediately launched himself into my arms. Of course, they were eager to see what gifts I had brought. Both competed with each other to tell me of the adventures they had with Uncle Billy, and Grandma, and who spent more time on the naughty stool. Nothing like being proud of all your accomplishments, including the bad ones!
And Aisling? She had been my saran wrap baby - clinging to me and not letting go for more than a second. Her molars are coming in and that may explain her need to plant herself in my arms every waking (and sleeping) moment. But I also like to hope that she missed me just as much as I missed her.

Their Idol - Uncle Billy

While I have been away this week, my brother has been helping Wayne hold down the fort. My kids idolize their aunts and uncles, but Uncle Billy receives the most adoration. He is the one who showers them with the gifts of newly released movies (and some not yet released). He takes them to the park and gives them piggy back rides. He cajoles them into eating all of their dinner and promises ice cream treats. Uncle Billy coaxes them into a good mood when a temper tantrum is imminent.  

My brother is a doting uncle.  He is gentle and tender with Aisling, and boisterous with Devlin. But nothing is more evident in his love for his nieces and nephew than his ability to put aside his germ phobias and change a dirty diaper or wipe a bum without freaking out.

 All three have been enjoying the treat of having Uncle Billy at home.  Devlin was over the moon as he excitedly told me about all that he had done with his uncle. Most importantly, Uncle Billy had helped him put together all the Lego he had received for his birthday - an activity which mommy had neither the time nor talent. More than once, Devlin has professed that Uncle Billy is his best friend. 

Aisling took naps with her uncle and woke him up by "gently" sticking her curious fingers into his ears and nose. 

And Ceilidh? Well, she's learning how to take advantage of her uncle's generosity and naivete. Bill had taken on the role of chauffeur and ferried her to gymnastics.  I asked him how that went.

Bill: She did great. She really listened well to the instructors. And I got her the treat too.

Me: What treat?

Bill: You know, the jelly beans she gets after class.

Me: Uh...no. She doesn't get jelly beans. Did she say she got jellybeans?

Bill: She told me "Mommy always buys her jelly beans from the machines after class." You don't?

Me: You've been had!

I'm Missing My Kids

It's barely been 18 hours since I last kissed their sleeping faces and gently caressed their soft cheeks, and I miss them something fierce.
It's every mom's dream - a few days away from the house, the spouse and the kids. For 5 days, I'm at a work-related event, sleeping in a different city. I can hit the spa, go shopping, linger over a cup of coffee while reading a magazine, have an extra glass of wine. No worries about laundry, grocery shopping, what to feed the kids, or how to get everything done in x number of hours. (Rather the worries are whether or not I've left enough clean laundry, did I remember to stock the fridge with the kids' favorite fruits; what Daddy will feed the kids, will I remember to remind Wayne about garbage day?) I should be revelling in these brief moments of freedom rather than stress about the pile of laundry that will await my arrival home.
And I miss my kids. I miss their sweaty faces pressed against mine to give me kisses and their sticky hands gripping my hands. I miss the craziness of trying to listen to everyone's stories as they all race to be the first to speak about their day while I try to make my way into the kitchen with two kids hanging off of my legs and third holding onto my shirt to slow me down. I ache to feel the slight weight of Aisling, curled against me with her head buried in the crook of my neck, and feeling the soft vibrations as she gently hums herself to sleep with her small hands curled against my chest. As I held her last night, I realised this week would mark our first separation at night since she came home from the hospital.
I called them tonight, and felt my throat tighten when I heard their voices. Aisling babbled happily over the speaker phone, while Ceilidh and Devlin fought over whose turn it was to talk. The tears formed when I heard Ceilidh tell me to come home, and when Devlin said he missed me. And when I think of how much I miss my kids, I think of how heartbreaking it is for those mothers who have no choice but to face a long separation from their own children without knowing when they'll be together. Our Canadian soldiers in Afghanistan, mothers who commute several provinces to work, the hundreds of foreign caregivers who come to Canada to work and forge a better future for their young children left behind in their home countries, Suaad Hagi Mohamud who was detained in Kenya for over three months, fighting to prove her identity while separated from her son in Toronto. I think of all the moms who are missing their children greatly but will never see them because of an illness or accident that ended a young life much too soon.
Then my mind turns to the "mothers" who have abandoned their babies to an uncertain future, to a life filled with pain, and sometimes death. And I can't fathom it. Remember the case about the salsa dancing mother who left her young toddler at home all alone in a stifling apartment, while she embarked on a weekend of dancing and parties? By the time she returned to her home, her baby girl was dead. I remember the disgust I felt for this woman, and wondered how a "mother" could so easily forget her child, so blithely put her own wants ahead of her dependent daughter? But mostly, I remember feeling such sadness for this little girl and imagined how afraid and desperately scared that baby must have been when no one came to her, no matter how long and how loudly she cried.
It's true that whenever we read about such tragedy involving children, we will turn to our own and hug them just a little tighter and just a little longer. I hope and pray that my children will never experience such terror or hurt or pain. I know I can never insulate from all the evils of the world. I know eventually they will grow up, and they will see the world has both good and bad elements. But I hope to protect them for as long as I can. I hope to preserve their innocence and their belief in happily-ever-after endings because there are enough cynics in this world. And while I'm at it, I pray for strength and inspiration and guidance (and lots of patience) to help my husband and me to be better parents. I also pray that my children will always be surrounded by love, and that they will know they are loved, unconditionally (no matter how crazy they make us). Because the fact is, parenthood is a tough job and we all need the help we can get.
I'm missing my kids something fierce. I know they're in good hands (their nanny and Daddy and Uncle Billy) and I know this week away is a good thing, but I miss them and I'm already counting down the hours until I see and hold them again.

Confessions of a tired Mom

I was this close to calling in sick, but leaving the house, and checking into a hotel to sleep for the day. Unfortunately, my Protestant work ethic prevented me from making that call. Little Aisling slept soundly from 9:30pm to 12:30am, and then woke up on the hour, every hour until 5:00am.
The morning work out got scrubbed for a few more minutes of shut-eye.
And believe it or not, Aisling was awake at 7:30am, looking chipper and rested!

Little Ears

Ever notice how kids can manage to hear the slightest whispers between you and your partner, but somehow will not hear you screaming at them from a foot away?


I have repeatedly asked my children to put on their shoes / clean up toys / come to the dinner table/ get into the bath tub/ get into their car seats/ etc. in ever increasing volumes with no response. Not even an indication that they heard the request. No blinking of the eyes. No twitching of their head. Not even a momentary stop in motion. Not until you are in their face, front and centre, yelling for the twentieth time to put on their shoes do they even acknowledge your presence.


I have wondered at times if my children suffered from premature hearing loss. Or maybe they managed to stuff a tiny toy into their ear canals. These theories are quickly dismissed by the following observations:





1. Ceilidh can hear a bag of chips being opened in any part of the house and come running.


2. Devlin manages to hear all the curse words muttered by a frustrated parent, and call us on it.


3. Aisling will wake from a sound sleep upon hearing the creak of a floorboard when mommy steps on it. (yet manages to sleep through a tempter tantrum by an older sibling!)


4. The word "treat", no matter how quietly it is uttered, will bring all three kids to your side in a matter of seconds.

And another demonstration of their remarkable ability to clearly hear:
One night, after a frustrating ultimate frisbee game, Wayne and I were rehashing the ugly details on the drive home. It was a game that was played poorly, and resulted in a loss against a team we have beaten in the past.
W: That was awful. We should have kicked their butts.

Devlin, from the back row of the minivan: Daddy, don't say "kick butt" because that means you're fighting someone, and fighting is bad and not nice.

A clear example of the "little pitcher, big ears". Incidentally, Devlin and Ceilidh have disproportionately large ears. We're not sure which family this particular trait came from, although there's been some thought it's a by-product of mixed marriage kids. Lots of interracial kids have really big ears. Take a look sometime. Once, Devlin even told his doctor that the only thing that was growing were his ears!

At any rate, you'd think with such large hearing appendages, they could pick up all sounds.

Alas, I have concluded that instead of supersonic hearing powers, my children have developed the ability to practise selective hearing at a very early age. Perhaps a trait they have picked up from their father?

For example, Ceilidh will be asked a number of times to pick up her toys. Each time, in a more louder, more insistent tone. And each time, Ceilidh will continue with whatever activity she was partaking in without any notice. Not even blink at the sound of our voices. But if Daddy was to say very quietly, "Ceilidh, you can have a chip if you pick up your toys", there will be an instant reaction. Her head will snap to attention and she will look around for the promised chip.

Less time cleaning house, More time with kids

The Globe and Mail had an article on how moms, including stay-at-home moms, are spending more time with their kids and less time cleaning house. So while the homefires are burning in a messier abode, moms are happier and more rested. No mention about home much more time, or less time, is spent by the dads in housekeeping or child-playing.

Here's the thing - who said the moms should be the only ones doing all the cleaning? What about the dads?(Perhaps a topic for another post.) And more importantly, what about the kids? One mom indicated that she tries to spend a few minutes here and there to pick up the kids' toys and clear the clutter created by the children. Another spoke of giving up on the "deep cleaning" like scrubbing floors and washing windows. And there was an air of resignation that this new messy life was the new order.

Now I am not one to preach about cleanliness being next to godliness. I've got 3 kids - the house has never been spic and span, and will probably never be while the kids live at home. I'm happy if the towels are hanging on the rack, the toys are mostly picked up, the dirty clothes are in the laundry hampers and garbage is contained. We don't live in a pig sty, but we will never be on the cover of Good Housekeeping. I've also given up on decorating my home until after my children move out. Until then, I'm content to live amongst toy bins, with stickers on the appliances, and finger paintings hanging on the fridge. I will draw the line at crayon art on the walls. (A girl has to have some standards.) I'm a realist when it comes to my home - it will be pleasantly cluttered, and I prefer the term "lived-in".

But the article seemed to indicate the task of housekeeping to fall soley on the overburdened shoulders of the woman. Again, I ask what about the kids who create 95% of the mess?

It's never to early to teach the importance of good citizenship, and to that end, we have given our children tasks they must complete. It's never termed as a chore. It's just something they do because they've been asked, and eventually, they realize it's part of the routine. Maybe it's my background in rhetoric, but I am strong proponent in using certain words and labels because of the meaning and images it conjures. Example, "chore" is a word often viewed negatively. it conjures up images of mucking out farm stalls, and shoulder high towering piles of laundry stacked next to the washing machine. Same with the word "task" or even worse, "assignment". So in our household, we use the word "job". This word gives our children the feeling they are contributing something important (which they are) by doing what they are asked to do. Pretty much the same idea as capitalizing on the toddler's desire to be a "helper".
All of our children have jobs to do. For instance, when they are done eating, (plastic) plates and cups are brought to the sink. Both Devlin and Ceilidh do this. They also take turns with helping to set the table before dinner. Another big thing in our home is cleaning up their toys, whenever they are done playing. Devlin is much better at this task. Ceilidh needs "help" when it's her turn to put away her toys. Aisling is already helping by "dusting" surfaces with a kleenex. She'll be in charge of the swiffer soon.
All three kids put their clothes into the laundry basket before getting into the bath. It's the cutest thing to watch Aisling waddle/toddle over to her laundry basket and throw her clothes in before running back to the bathroom. We encourage Devlin to put away his freshly laundered clothes. Ceilidh loves to help make weekend breakfasts with dad - although that might be contributing to the mess, rather than help clean it up. The older ones are learning to sweep up their spills with a broom and dustpan, or wipe up a soggy mess with a dishcloth.

So, I think it's possible to spend less time doing housekeeping chores but still live in a relatively clean house if you can get the troops involved. And with all the time that's saved, there will be even more time to spend with the kids. Unless you're one of those parents who consider housecleaning to be quality time.

Summer...finally!

2009 has been a bust for summer weather. If it's not raining, it's miserably cool for a "summer" day. News and weather reports indicate there's only been 1-2 days with temps higher than 30 degrees. On the one hand, our utility bills are a getting a break and our lawn looks great from all the rain. Only one smog day for 2009 too. On the other hand, it really doesn't feel like summer without the hot and humid weather. But we, in southern Ontario, are finally getting some heat and humidity this week.

This past weekend started out promising but the thunderstorms threatened to ruin our weekend. It's hard to plan an outing when the skies keep turning dark. Rather than spending another afternoon at an indoor facility, we decided to brave the humid air and the threatening storm clouds for an afternoon at the zoo (the real zoo, not our home). Besides the animals, there was the added attraction of the splash pad.

When you have kids, hot and sticky weather is consumed by finding ways to keep cool outdoors which translates into water play. If you're not fortunate enough to have a pool (wading pool does not count), you look for the nearest community pool or splash pad, the latest greatest invention for kids. Remember when we were kids and running through the sprinkler on the front lawn to stay cool? Or running and sliding along the yellow slip and slide sheet? Nowadays, there are splash pads for kids. Huge jazzed up versions of the sprinkler with lots of water shooting out of a variety of objects and a couple of slides and climbing structures too. Kids get to run around and get wet without the bulky life jacket. Parents get to sit in the shade or stand near a gentle sprinkle of water and the only challenge is keeping track of your kid(s) in the crowd of happily screaming wet children.

After watching the polar bears frolic in the water, we decided to take our trio of monkeys and head to the splash pad. All 3 loved it. Devlin's exact words were "I had a blast!" Ceilidh loved aiming the water cannon from atop the climbing structures, and Aisling took to this new experience like a pro. She didn't flinch once while running through the water falls, and demanded to be taken up to the slides. She didn't find the baby section very interesting, preferring to be with the big kids instead.

If you haven't been yet, get thee to a splash pad and enjoy before the summer's over!

Nature vs. Nurture

As parents to children of both sexes, it's been interesting to watch them develop. Our philosophy was to encourage the children to develop their own interests and to be as gender-neutral as possible when it came to play items. Devlin, being the first-born, received lots of stuffed animals as gifts. We also purchased gender-neutral toys, like building blocks, lego, sorting puzzles and the like.
While we have never consciously pushed certain toys to either Devlin or Ceilidh (Aisling is too young to count at this point), Ceilidh has gravitated to dolls and stuffed animals whereas Devlin never showed a huge interest in his teddy bears. In all fairness, Devlin received lots of cars and trucks as gifts from his cousins since he was a baby so that may explain his fondness for such. But even from the tender age of 15 months, Ceilidh displayed a "mothering" behaviour with her bears, puppies and dolls. She would cradle them gently, pat them tenderly, and wrap them in blankets. When putting the toys away, she would gently place the dolls on the couch.
In the same respect, I haven't really "dressed up" Ceilidh in skirts or dresses. One, I strongly believe in the tradition of hand-me-downs and I tried to purchase gender-neutral coloured clothing for Devlin for that purpose. Two, buckling a child into a car seat is much easier when clad in pants or shorts and not a frilly skirt. Third, coaxing a toddler into leotards is like trying to dress an octopus. Ever tried it?
But in recent months, Ceilidh has been requesting dresses and skirts. She loves wearing girly clothes, and walks around the house with a purse and pretends to put on make-up. I have no idea where she gets that from, because I hardly wear any make-up, and I rarely wear skirts outside of the office. Whenever she sees my high heels, she says "ooh, pretty shoes!" and she loves to touch my earrings. One of her favorite playtime activities is dress-up. I bought her some dress-up outfits, complete with shoes and costume jewellery. I often come home to see her wearing outrageous outfits with a crown on her head and bracelets dangling off her arms.
Devlin likes dress-up too, but only in the super-hero outfits. (I often hit the after Halloween sales for the dress up outfits.)

Grocery Shopping with Aisling

Last night, I went grocery shopping with Aisling. It was an adventure.
She was excited to sit in the buggy and look around. Then, she became excited as items of food entered the buggy. She touched and poked and prodded each new item. She attempted to open a few packages. The package of ground beef has indentations from her little fingers. And then, she decided this was a new game.
Let's see, Mommy is taking things from the shelves and putting them into the cart. I can do that too. As quickly as she was pulling onions, boxes of raisins, bags of buns into the cart, I was taking them out and attempting to put it back onto its proper shelf. All the while, trying to get the items from the shopping list into the cart.
So, Aisling decided to help me out there too. The more food items I put into the cart, the more she began to take out and throw onto the ground. Tomatoes went flying, the strawberries scattered onto the floor, a cucumber got dropped and almost stepped on. And if the way she flung the container of dip is any indication, my little girl has a career in baseball.
Eventually, in a last ditch attempt to finish my weekly shopping with most of needed items still in a consumable state, I opened a bag of corn puffs to keep her occupied. That's when I discovered that she had learned to sign "more". She pointed to the bag and signed more each time she had finished stuffing one of the puffs into her mouth. Wow - all those weeks of practising signing and she finally got it!
P.S. Aisling "helped" put away the groceries. More bruised bananas and very mushy tomatoes.

Parenthood - my thoughts (or at least some of them)

Maclean's magazine has a cover story this week on why we shouldn't have children. (See http://www2.macleans.ca/2009/07/24/no-kids-no-grief/) Too tempted, I bought the magazine and after reading the 4 page article (in which I was reminded why I had previously let my subscription lapse), I was flabbergasted. I was offended because, I was being labelled as selfish, three times over.
Children will hamper one's careers, will ruin one's social life, will ruin marriages, will bankrupt the family, will eventually disappoint the parent, will destroy the earth's resources, and on and on it went. It described people with children as selfish. Ironic, considering one of main reasons why some people choose to remain child-free was that they didn't want to change their lifestyle. That sounds selfish to me. Another individual stated that each child on this earth was an ecological disaster waiting to happen, reasoning the food the child ate, the waste the child created, the natural resources it consumed were all damaging to our earth. Of course, if you follow that, then wouldn't the same individual who made that remark also be considered to be an ecological disaster. And if not having children was for the planet, then the non-existence of this same individual also be for the benefit of this planet?
There was a study done where people ranked "taking care of kids" as one of least pleasant tasks one could partake in. It ranked only slightly higher than housework, and way below napping, eating or watching television. I would counter that with how was "taking care of kids" defined? Taking care of kids is often viewed as chore-based. I whole-heartedly agree that napping is way more pleasurable than disciplining a mouthy pre-schooler, or changing a very disgusting poopy diaper. But there is no way that watching television could rank higher than listening to the bubbly happy giggles of your toddler, or hearing your child say "I love you" while hugging you tightly, or feeling of contentment as a child falls asleep in your arms. Too often, parenting is often defined as disciplining, but it is way more than that. Parenting is the whole realm of it, the good, the bad and the ugly.
As for the argument that parenting ruins marriages, and that childless couples report more happiness than those with kids, I'd wonder when in the parenting cycle these questions were asked. Having been there, and being in it, I can understand how children are taxing on a couple's relationship. When you're sleep deprived, fresh out of ideas for a kid-friendly meal that's also budget friendly, trying to get some control over the expanding laundry pile, while wrestling with an overactive toddler to change said toddler's diaper, and running to wipe up some sticky spill, it's hard (if not impossible) to find energy to nurture the relationship with the partner. That being said, if both partners are mature enough and cognizant enough to understand that this craziness will not last forever, and to appreciate and savour the brief moments of calm when they occur, then that relationship will not suffer but will thrive. I'll bet that couples whose children are grown will report higher levels of satisfaction and happiness with their relationship and will also report that their marriage was strengthened as a result of those kids.
And are kids costly? Sure they are. But again, that's only looking at half the equation. What about the returns of having children? Can you really put a monetary value on the love, satisfaction, happiness, contentment and fulfillment that your children bring to your lives?