Learning to Read

Devlin's reading skills have taken off since he entered grade one.  His biggest challenge is that he is incredibly lazy at times, and refuses to try to sound out the big words. Sometimes he give up too easily. So our task is keeping up his confidence level while challenging his reading skills. From purchasing easy to read books to reading a variety of storybooks every evening, from encouraging him to read the billboard ads to practising his spelling - it's a constant learning environment we are trying to provide.
He impressed his aunts over Christmas by reading several Dr. Seuss books to them. He impressed himself by reading some of the books Santa placed in his stocking. He even read a short story to his baby sister Aisling and baby cousin Mia.
And he's constantly trying to sound out words, no matter where we are. Usually we encourage this enthusiastically, even pointing out words for him to try. He hasn't learning about initials though. So there we were at the busy rest stop on the highway, waiting in line to order our meal. "Kuhfuhk. What's that?" he asked loudly.
We were waiting in line at KFC.

Parenting and @$%#**!

I'll be the first to admit that I have a trucker's mouth. Or at least I used to. Then I had kids.  The transformation to my colourful vocabulary didn't occur overnight. At first, I didn't give much thought to my habit of using swear words. The curses came naturally when the baby's diaper leaked, or when he vomited, projectile fashion, into my shirt. Nothing else seemed to express our frustrations so concisely than a short expletive when the baby woke up, again, within mere minutes of falling asleep. Sometimes, the words simply belied our own helplessness as parents. There was the time when Devlin was running a high fever, and all the parenting books indicated a rectal temperature was the most accurate. I don't know how many times we tried to hold the squalling, squirming baby still, while attempting to insert, most delicately, a lubricated thermometer, and try to obtain an accurate reading, all the while wondering if we were inserting it too deeply or not enough.
Then baby grew. Swear words were easy to mutter as we ran into more obstacles of parenting. Another bowl of oatmeal goes flying. The garbage bin gets overturned again by curious hands.  The computer gets turned off by a wayward kick by a tiny foot while you were in the middle of a transaction. The newly replaced toilet paper roll is unfurled ceremoniously by a giggling toddler.
Then came potty training. All hell broke loose with our language. Just when we thought we had turned a corner with the toileting issue, Devlin decided to regress. He began to poop in his underwear. For no reason. He knew how to use the toilet. Had no problems peeing in the toilet. In fact, he had been pooping in the potty. Overnight, he began to poop in the undies.  (I've never figured out why, but I now realize it's a commonality amongst all of my offspring.) It was gross. It was disgusting. I was at home with two kids, and at my wit's end. None of the parenting books or toilet training guides mentioned this type of regression. The pediatrician's advice was to take it easy as it would go away, but the regression could last up to a year. Up to a year!!!???
Reverting to using pull-ups made matters worse as he decided to pee in the diaper-like training pants. We decided to suck it up and soldier on with the underwear. It was a dirty event. Each day, my frustrations grew. The swear words flowed freely. Until the day I realized that kids are indeed sponges and they do mimic the adults. One afternoon, my son informed he had pooped. In his underwear. As I pulled down his pants and underwear gingerly, I said "Ahh, Devlin" in a despairing tone of voice. He responded, "Yeah, I know, F---!"
Well, that stopped me cold, and I swore that I would clean up my language. That incident, and the one time he actually used that word in front of my mother was enough of a warning to me. We have tried to clean up our language. The last thing I want or need is a conference with the teachers about my kid's inappropriate language. It's hard especially since my line of work inspires such creative terminology. The challenge for me is to leave the cursing at the workplace. For Daddy, the task is to drive without mentioning all the d@!% morons and idiots on the road.
But there are some situations where a good expletive provides the perfect relief to one's frustrations. I've tried to substitute the really bad swear words for some milder, not r-rated ones. Unfortunately, I am using the Lord's name in vain way too much. Funny how the kids will repeat the r-rated words and their lesser counterparts but not the religious ones.
Then there was the evening where Aisling was finding every excuse in the book to delay bed time. More milk. Need to pee. One more story. Need to find her baby [doll].
"Aisling, the baby is downstairs. I am not going to get it."
"I neeeed my baby to sleep. I can't sleep. Get it for me. I can't go by myself. Come with me," she whined.
Knowing when I was defeated, I muttered crossly, "Let's go. Let's go and get your bloody baby and then you better get to sleep."
We went down to the living room, and searched for her doll. Then I heard the triumphant cry, "Here it is. I got my bloody baby!"

Santa the Enforcer

So there's been some talk as to inappropriate-ness of using Santa Claus as a disciplinary method, or more accurately, as a bribe to obtain good behaviour from the mischievous elves in our homes. Parenting experts are shaking their heads as the scads of parents out there who are threatening the naughty list and lumps of coal. Children should not need such threats, real or imaginary, to behave and toe the line. If parents are resorting to calling Santa and telling him to cancel the stocking stuffers, then the parents have been neglectful parents from the start. As babes in the crib, we should have laid down the law and commanded respect and obedience from these critters long ago. Even Supernanny Jo would agree that having an imaginary enforcer, like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny who may withhold treats, is a big no-no in her books. Why are the children more willing to behave for someone other than their parents? Because the parents have lost complete control over their kids.
Well...correct or not in the world of parenting experts, having Santa as an enforcer works. After all, "he knows when you've been bad or good". After viewing several holiday movies, my kids are convinced there does exist a naughty list and a nice list.  They've also learned that Santa will visit their home, but that doesn't mean all the stockings will get filled. Nothing gets Ceilidh to finish her meal faster than a call to the North Pole. The threat of lumps of coal and an empty tree will guarantee a stop to the tattling, pinching, and pushing. (Although the whining is still a problem.) I'm not above bribing my kids to coerce some cooperation from them.
Hey, if it worked for our parents, why shouldn't it work for us?
And on that note, a Merry Christmas to all!

Christmas Lights!

It's a magical time of the year, and our kids love the various Christmas decorations and lights adorning our neighbourhood. They're also badgering their father to put up more than our usual string of multi-coloured lights so we've paid a visit to Canadian Tire to purchase lawn ornaments.
Last night, we were travelling to the movie theater. As we passed by the various dazzling displays, Aisling excitedly pointed and shouted "Decor-a-tion! Look! Decor-a-tion!" Every house and store we passed, she would comment "Decor-a-tion!"
Eventually, there were fewer Christmas displays to gawk at as we drove down a major road. All of a sudden, there was a shout from the back row. "Look! More decor-a-tion! Pretty!" Aisling exclaimed.
It was a fire truck with all of its lights aglow and flashing.

From 2 to 12 in the blink of an eye!

For weeks now, Aisling has been singing the Barney song - I love you, You love me. She only knows those words and she sings them over and over again. With an earnest smile, she will approach you and ask if you want to hear her song. Before you can even answer, she'll break out into her song. Sometimes, she'll even dance along, swaying from side-to-side as she waves her arms in the air. In fact, she gave an impromptu performance in the locker room last week at swimming lessons.
Yesterday, she asked me if I wanted to hear her sing. I accepted, while silently cursing the purple dinosaur. But instead of "I love you, you love me" that I was expecting, I was treated to "All the single ladies"! Well, it sounded more like "all the sinnel ladies". There was an accompanying dance too.
In the blink of an eye, we've gone from Barney the Purple Dinosaur to Beyonce!

My personal trainers

Everyone knows that exercise is beneficial to your health, both physical and mental. The lists of the beneficial aspects grows daily with some new research or study being released almost every day. I'm not immune to those reports. I work out. Not because I have a weight problem (at least I don't think I do). I exercise five to six times a week because it's good for my sanity. Sure there are associated health benefits, like a stronger immune system and lower blood pressure. Mostly I exercise because I like food, I like to cook and I love to eat. I also have poor self-control when it comes to denying myself certain foods. So I eat, and then I work it off.
However, since I've had kids, I've another reason to exercise. Not to get my pre-kids figure back, because that's a hopeless cause. No, I exercise because it's usually my only alone time that I get on a regular basis.
How do I manage that? By waking up early and donning my sweats before the slumbering monsters start stirring. Although, my children seem to have taken on the roles of being my personal trainers.
There was a time when I was a member of a gym. I would pack my gear, and travel to a gym to work up a sweat. Once Devlin arrived on the scene, the thought of arranging for child care and driving to gym to workout, while trying to schedule the said workout between nursings was too much to consider. So we cancelled our gym memberships and invested in some equipment for our home. (Which now acts as a laundry rack.) I also purchased several work out tapes that I did use. While I jumped around and attempted the intricate footwork, Devlin would be propped up against a cushion, giggling away at my antics. When he got older and developed more neck control, he was popped into the jogging stroller for sessions of rollerblading and runs around the neighbourhood which he enjoyed even more. Sometimes, he even fell asleep.
Then Ceilidh came along. Trying to manage workouts was bit more difficult. I joined the community centre which provided babysitting at a nominal fee. That lasted all of one month. Ceilidh cried too much for the centre's volunteer babysitting staff. At least the weather was warmer so I resumed running and training for the races. Or I bundled Ceilidh into a snowsuit and ran with the jogging stroller while Devlin was at daycare. My spouse and I even signed up for boot camp sessions that were being held down the street.
After Aisling's arrival, I became even more motivated to exercise. The sanity thing, the time away from the kids and the combined factors of age and three pregnancies provided great impetus to getting out of bed, even after a night of much interrupted sleep. I head out the door for a run or to the basement and my library of workout dvds. Most of the time, I rely on my own will power to dig deep and push through the overwhelming desire to crawl back into bed. On other occasions, I have my "personal trainers". There's nothing like a bit of encouragement or critique to get one to run faster or squat lower. I'm not talking about seeing my monkeys at the finish line, clapping and cheering "Go Mommy!". My personal trainers are more sadistic.
During a charity 5k run, I heard a lot of "Go faster!" from the depths of the double jogging stroller that I was pushing. Whenever I head into the basement, Aisling immediately bring over my hand weights and yoga mat. When Devlin was mastering the art of riding a two-wheeler, he would suggest that I run next to him, so that he could "Mommy with her exercising". Which is slightly better than him suggesting that I could work out at the gym next to the gymnastics centre. But the best is from my daughter Ceilidh. While I was doing a series of squat jumps, she was sitting on a chair, wrapped up in warm snuggly blankets. Then she asked, "How come your bum shakes when you jump?"

Devlin's Christmas Wish List

All he wants for Christmas is his two front teeth!

Parent Teacher Interviews

There's been talk in the media about the "unhelpfulness" of report cards. Articles on how to de-code the teacher comments, and suggestions of a move towards parent-friendly reports, and perhaps even non-letter grades to measure the child's progress. Whatever. In the end, a face-to-face meeting with the teacher is the best feedback regarding the student. Most teachers will have the child's workbooks, test scores, samples of their classroom work on hand to explain what the report card comments really mean. If behaviour is a problem, then again, speaking with the educators is probably better than an exchange of words over paper.
So, with some trepidation, we booked a time to meet with both Ceilidh's and Devlin's teachers. Devlin was certainly anxious as to what was to be discussed at this meeting, even going so far as to ask to tag along. We denied the request.
The first "interview" was for Ceilidh. Her two teachers were full of praise, adoration and encouragement. We heard that Ceilidh was sociable and friendly, and not discriminatory as to her playmates. In fact, the shyer children gravitate towards Ceilidh because she is so welcoming. We heard that she loves to sing and dance. Her printing is neat, and advanced in that she is already adept at writing out lower case letters. She can recognize all the letters of the alphabet, as well as knowing what sounds they make. In fact, the teachers encouraged us to start Ceilidh on reading as she's adept at phonics. To assist, they've started to send home senior kindergarten assignments for her. It was also amusing and enlightening to see how far Ceilidh has advanced with her artistic skills. A drawing from the beginning of September showed a person composed of a face, legs and arms. No torso. Today, her drawings have people with "bodies" and more detail. There was one with a little girl flying a kite, with ribbons on the kite's tail and a rainbow overhead. Included, was her attempt to describe the scene - she had written a short sentence, sounding out the words. Not spelled correctly, but phonetically sound.
The little girl they described almost sounded alien to us. We were told she always ate the entire contents of her lunch bag without any prompting. So not like the child who comes to the dinner table. She never has to be asked twice to complete any task, and is happy to help out. Again, doesn't resemble the child who needs to be bribed, cajoled, threatened to pick up her toys. The only area of improvement that was suggested for Ceilidh? Zipping up her jacket on her own. That's it!
Then we moved down the hallway to Devlin's classroom. Considering all the earlier behavioural issues, we were a bit leery. There hadn't been any notes sent home in the previous two weeks, nor any detentions, but we were prepared to present a united front about whatever "perceived" problems our son was demonstrating. I think I was, a tiny bit, concerned that the teacher would suggest having our rambunctious, normal (in our eyes) six-year-old boy to be tested for ADHD.
Our first area of concern was the academics. Was he learning everything? Were there any problems? Like I said, the report card was NOT helpful nor enlightening in any fashion. The response was favourable. He was definitely learning and retaining. One encouraging comment was Devlin was able to write meaningful sentences in his journal. Meaningful in that the words conveyed a comprehensible thought. The sentences were also phrased properly, and no danger of a run-on sentences. All the hours of bedtime stories were paying off. He was also ready to move onto the next level of reading books to be sent home. All of this was encouraging to hear, so we moved on the next area of concern - behaviour. It was heartening to hear that Devlin's issues were more of the silly variety that have a time and place (i.e., not in the classroom), as opposed to a malicious bent. Really, it's a matter of maturing and learning to adjust to the new norm. Something that will work itself out over some time. Whew, we breathed a sign of relief. 
So, all in all, the parent-teacher interviews were a success from our point of view. Although I'm not a proponent of rewarding children for behaviours and performances I expect to be the norm, I do think a new packages of Silly bandz for the rugrats are appropriate here.

New bed - but where are the kids?

So after many years of use, and a few more years of procrastinating, we finally purchased a new queen sized mattress for the bed in Devlin's room. A comfortable, pillow topped mattress guaranteed to induce sweet dreams.
Who's sleeping in the bed?
Not the kids.
Nope.
Recently, the kids have decided to sleep "all together" in Mommy and Daddy's room. They all snuggle up for bedtime stories - first Aisling's pick of the month (because she wants the same book read over and over and over again), then Ceilidh's, and finally Devlin's book. Then the lights are turned off, prayers are recited and eye drift close, quite fast, and within minutes, deep regular breaths can be heard from all three. That's when Mommy and Daddy, the bookends in the king sized bed, sneak out of the room, without waking the slumbering angels, and head to the smaller bed to sleep in peace. That is, if we can wake up after falling asleep with the kids.
We've pondered the option of switching the beds in the rooms. I don't think it'll matter. The monkeys just want to sleep with Mommy and Daddy in Mommy and Daddy's room. Which is fine with us for now. As long as we're getting a few hours of undisturbed sleep, it doesn't matter that Buzz Lightyear staring down at us.

Quality Time

When we're in the middle of a crazy week, rushing to and from activities and work, attempting to get mundane chores completed, it seems there will never be an opportunity to enjoy a simple past time like reading a book, or soaking in a bath sans enfants. Every once in awhile, I do manage to find time to browse a bookstore, but it's usually when I'm at work, away from the children and the pressing to-do list of household chores and the ever growing pile of laundry. Trying to schedule quality one-on-one time with the kids is a near impossible task, let alone finding time alone with the spouse. But to my amazement, I did manage to have some alone time with each one of my kids this weekend.
Unlike the now defunct "Jon & Kate plus Eight", I did NOT have a special outing planned for each child. There was no trip to a horse farm or roller rink. None of that, which frankly, would require way too much energy to plan and there's simply not enough time in the day for that task.
Rather, the one-on-one time came upon us in a serendipitous fashion. The opportunities found us. While Aisling was at dance lessons, Ceilidh and I partook in the weekly Costco shopping trip. Okay, not really quality time, but she was able to help Mommy with the shopping and voice her input into what flavour of chips made their into the cart.
Once I dropped off Ceilidh as her dance session, it was Aisling's turn with Mommy. We headed to the nearby Tim Horton's for Aisling's "chockit" doughnut snack. I enjoyed a cup of coffee while Aisling proceeded to munch away at the chockit while charming all the customers at Tim's.
I even managed to have some time with Devlin. Again, it was during a trip to the grocery store. Devlin helped with selecting the fruits and vegetables, and I caught a glimpse of what toys he was interested in when he took off for the toy aisle. I ended up with more than what was on the shopping list, but that's what happens when your child asks for raspberries and fresh pineapple, and selects a still warm baguette for his snack. We had a silly conversation about nothing important, and came away with a date to see the Green Lantern movie when it's released next summer. (I showed him the Ryan Reynolds, aka Green Lantern cover of People magazine.)
As a bonus, while Devlin and Aisling were frolicking in the pile of raked leaves with Daddy, Ceilidh and I took advantage of the empty living room to work on jigsaw puzzles.
Sitting at my desk surrounded by piles of work with gloomy skies outside, I look back over my weekend and (as cheesy as it sounds) realize how fortunate I was to have those few stolen moments with each child.  Despite the craziness of the weekend (picture dance lessons, gymnastics, hockey, church, rehearsal for the Christmas pageant, a concert, shopping, laundry x5, cleaning, homework, baths, meal preparation), it was magical that I was able to find time for each child to appreciate each child's unique personality while creating forever images in my mind's eye. Aisling in her pink ballet tutu sporting a toothy chocolatey grin, Ceilidh's quiet determination while sorting through a hundred puzzle pieces, the mischievous gleam in Devlin's eyes as he was bestowed the responsibility of picking out a snack at the grocery store. These moments don't happen very often but when they do, seize them!

Report Card time

It's that time of the year - report cards. My kids seem unfazed by this, so why am I nervous? Why am I the anxious party? Is it because of memories past, from when I was in grade school? Or is it because the report card is a really a reflection on the parent?
As a good friend said, "If the report card is bad, then it affirms your belief that you're a terrible parent. On the other hand, if the reports are good, it leaves you wondering, 'why is that? what am I doing right?' ".

Boys and Schooling - a rant of sorts

Since the start of the school year, we have been struggling with Devlin and his adjustment to grade one. Not in terms of academics. Well, at least I don't think so. We've been diligent in staying on top of his homework assignments, and quizzing him on spelling, and reading simple words and books together. Yes, there are daily homework assignments in grade one. On the rare day there isn't anything assigned, I've given Devlin some math exercises or printing work to do. So, I'm not worried about his academics, unless of course, I'm told differently next week at the parent teacher interviews.
Rather it's been the behavioural issues that been the cause of much stress and worry in our household. We've had several notes sent home from the teacher about his inability to behave appropriately in school. Accompanying these were the slips from the detention rooms, or "thinking rooms" as they're now labelled. Once, he was asked about a situation in class, and Devlin was unable to stick to the cold hard facts and likely embellished the story. So he was labelled as a liar (more or less) and I got a note about his inability to accept blame for his actions. Another time, he was caught standing on his chair at lunchtime and yelling. There was no adult supervisor in the classroom at the time, and perhaps he thought he could get away with it. Devlin's version was that he was telling his classmates to be quiet. Once in gym class, he was unable to stand still and was jumping on top of the bleachers. There was the time he was caught in the wrong bathroom with several of his classmates. Not the girls bathroom, but the bathroom for the older boys. Two weeks ago, he received a detention for "fighting".
That's when I became very upset. With Devlin. But also with the school. There were no details accompanying the "fighting" detention slip. We couldn't get a straight story out of Devlin as to the nature of the fighting. I sent a note to the school asking whether it was bullying or horseplay. I received a reply that neither was acceptable. No kidding, but bullying and horseplay are two very different behaviours. One has the potential of injuring another person out of hatred or spite, and another is more reflective of little boys and their high energy levels and mode of play. How can I discipline my child at home, and work with him about appropriate behaviour without knowing all the facts?
After some more pushing, I learned the fighting was simply horseplay between two friends. There was some shoving but no one was complaining of being hurt. The teacher on duty (likely female) told the boys to stop. They did for a bit, and then re-commenced their activities once the teacher was out of sight, as little children do. They got caught again, and this time were sent to the thinking room. Two things wrong here, from my perspective. Since when is physical play a bad thing considering there are no organized sports at recess? Running around and chasing each other is completely normal, and a healthy way for little ones to get some exercise while releasing some pent-up energy. It's totally unrealistic to expect 5 and 6 year olds to sit in a classroom for an entire day without these opportunities to "let go". To take away their recess and send them inside for a detention is not an effective form of punishment. In fact, I would argue it compounds the problem. Without a release, these children will be even more distracted and fidgety when class resumes. Given that he's gone from 2.5 hours of mostly playtime in junior and senior kindergarten to 5.5 hours of sitting at a desk and doing some real "learning", it's understandable that Devlin's been having some difficulty making a smooth transition.
There's been some attention in the media to the issue of boys lagging in our education systems. Record number of women are entering and graduating from university and college, while record numbers of males are not. Has our educational system gone overboard in attempting to attract and keep girls in school? Is there a feminization of our education? There's certainly a disproportionate number of female teachers in the elementary schools. Devlin's school has maybe 3 male teachers. Both the principal and vice-principal are female. While this is great news for women, I wonder how having a school run by a mostly female staff affects boys, particularly their behaviour. There's no question girls and boys behave differently. Girls are quieter, more agreeable, can sit still for longer periods of time while colouring pictures of castles and princesses. Boys are rambunctious, more easily distracted, and eager to act out parts of their favorite superhero adventure. Inevitably they will be treated differently because the same standard of expectations will be placed on them. Boys are disproportionately diagnosed more often with ADHD even though there isn't link to the XY chromosome. Teachers want an orderly classroom of students who sit quietly without tapping their legs or fidgeting in their seats. At the end of the day, does Devlin pretending to be a zombie make him a future juvenile delinquent? Should their unstructured physical activities be curtailed? Is it reasonable to expect a classroom of grade one students will quietly eat their lunch at their desks without adult supervision? Let's not forget that this is the first year that these children have had to eat a lunch at school.
While I can accept that it may take months for Devlin to adjust to the level of decorum the teachers expect, I don't think penalizing normal behaviour with detentions is the answer or solution. It's also very discouraging to both the parents and the student. And what about the academics? Why is there no mention of that, whether good or bad?  That's my main concern. If he's lagging in the learning, then the behavioural incidents at school will only increase, and the chances of academic success will correspondingly decrease. By labelling a student as a problem child when it's often a question of maturity will lead to a diminished opportunities for that student to receive academic help. Let's face it - teachers talk amongst themselves, and it takes less energy to work with a "model" student. Humans are inherently lazy, and teachers already view themselves as overworked and underpaid.

Cast Your Vote!

What does Devlin resemble?

1. Asian hillbilly
2. Hockey player
3. Jack o'lantern

Ceilidh Fights Dirty

Some parents might worry over their girls, particularly their daughters' abilities to withstand criticism or taunts. We have no such concerns with respect to Ceilidh. Even when she was a toddler, she was able to stand up to her older brother Devlin. Whenever Devlin got in her way, or took away a toy she was playing with, she took matters into her own hands. Instead of tattling on her brother, or crying, Ceilidh would toddle over to Devlin and bite him. Now, we didn't encourage the biting to continue, and in fact we struggled to squelch that nasty trait, but it was refreshing to see our daughter wasn't a push over.
As she got taller, and eventually reached Devlin's height (yes, my twins who were born 25 months apart), Ceilidh did give up the biting. For pinching. We're working on ridding her of that. There's now less pinching. Because she moved onto simply knocking Devlin over and sitting on him. But only when she's really mad at him. Since she now outweighs her older brother by a couple of pounds, it an effective tool for Ceilidh. (Yet neither weigh enough to get out of the full blown car seat.)
Most days though, when she really wants to irk her brother, she plays the copy cat. You know, that age-old annoying method of repeating EVERY THING the other person says. Anyone who has a sibling, whether older or younger, has partaken in this ritual. I don't know if it's more bothersome to the target, or to the parents who have to listen and then intervene.
Unfortunately, Ceilidh does not respond well to parental efforts at curbing this behaviour. Time-outs on the naughty stool have no effect. Taking away t.v. privileges doesn't seem to bother her either. In fact, I think she thrives on getting a reaction out of Devlin. One day, out of sheer desperation, I told Devlin to say some not-so-nice things about Ceilidh when she started to copy him. Like, "Ceilidh smells bad" or "Ceilidh looks funny". (Yes I know, I'm a horrible mom.)
So, he did. It had the desired effect. Outraged, Ceilidh immediately ceased the mimicking and returned with "I do NOT smell bad! I smell like a princess!"  and "I am pretty!"
Unfortunately, this counter-tactic only worked for a few days. Ceilidh caught on quickly, and learned to substitute "Devlin" for "Ceilidh" whenever he tried to verbally spar with her.
Devlin has one weapon up his sleeve though. He is older and in grade one now. That means he can read (a little) and apparently, he knows more. So, every once in awhile, I'll hear this from my son. "Ceilidh, I KNOW [insert topic of discussion], and you don't. I'm in grade one, and I'm older, so I'm right." (Yes, not very original on his part.)
While Ceilidh will usually reply with a growl or a pinch, the other night, she hit below the belt. She looked over at him, and said very sweetly, "Well, I DON'T wear diapers!" referring to his night-time pull-ups.

As an aside:
I know, he's six and he still needs the nighttime pull-ups. There are some nights he makes it through completely dry, but it's a random occurrence. No discernible pattern. Despite the fact that we were all completely night time trained by the time we were two and half years old according to my mother, my son shows no sign of following in my footsteps. After a year or two of stressing over this (particularly since his younger sister Ceilidh has rarely peed during the night, even as an infant), I've decided to let it go. So many parents I've spoken to have said the night time dryness comes on its own. No amount of waking the kid up in the middle of the night is going to hasten the matter. It's all about biology and physiology, and the maturing of the nervous system according to the pediatrician. We've tried to waking up the kid and it was NEVER a pleasant experience. We're not into the restricting all fluids after a certain hour either. I think that borders on cruelty. I mean, my kid is not the only one who is not dry at nighttime. There are pull-ups for kids who are heavier than 80 pounds! So rather than stressing about the night time pee issue, I've decided to focus my energies on curbing Ceilidh's bothersome behaviour. Not that I've had much success with that either.

Happy Halloween 2010!

From our goblins to your's...Happy Halloween!

Ceilidh's Humour

I'm not sure if Ceilidh has a future as a comedian, but her infectious laughter after telling these jokes is irresistible. Here's a sampling of Ceilidh's best jokes:

Q: Why did the chicken sit on the egg?
A: Because it didn't have a chair.

Q: Why does a horse gallop?
A: Because it can't dance.

Q: Why does a rooster say "cock-a-doodle-doo"?
A: Because it can't speak English.

Q: Why does a cow drink milk?
A: Because it doesn't like juice.

A new addition

(No - not what you're all thinking....)

Meet Charlie - the newest addition to our zoo, and the kids' first pet. Thankfully one that doesn't require house breaking, daily walks, changes of a litter box or grooming. Quiet too.

I'm still not sure how we came to consent to taking on another mouth to feed, but somehow on the weekend, Charlie made his way to our home. After five little goldfish had a watery buriel in our toilet and vacated a newly purchased fish bowl. Five little swimmers who made their home for 24 hours in our large mixing bowl after making the trip from Windsor in the back of Auntie Grace's car. 

Autumn Days

 A fall tradition in our family is apple picking, which we enjoyed on a beautiful afternoon over the Thanksgiving weekend. Take a look!

Ceilidh and Aisling picking apples.

But not the ones on the ground!



Helping Uncle Fred sort the apples.



Sampling the goods.



Devlin trying to help, with one hand.

Giving Daddy a helping hand.

All done! Time for cider donuts!

  


 

 

Sleeping Beauty

Some days, junior kindergarten is an exhausting ordeal!

Keeping Kids Safe - The New Reality

Welcome to life in 2010, where suburban and inner-city schools now have to practice lock-down drills. Not a week goes by without hearing that some school in the GTA is under a lock-down because of a gun or stabbing, either nearby or at the school itself. So, I guess it makes sense that schools are now practising what to do if ever the situation arises. Just like we had fire alarm drills when we parents were younger, the kids today are getting both fire drills and lockdown drills.
While it's a step to keep our children safer, it's still disconcerting to have my four-year-old daughter tell me they had a lockdown at school where they had to go to their cubbies and sit down. To my daughter, the lockdown meant that the classroom door got locked. As a parent, I know why that door is locked. Devlin had returned from a field trip in the middle of the lockdown, and had to remain on the school bus until the "all-clear" was given.
We live in a relatively quiet neighbourhood. I think the chances of a real lockdown occurring are low. I understand the board's policy of better safe than sorry. But I still mourn the potential loss of innocence that will ensue if ever a lockdown really occurs for my children. Perhaps, it's better stated that I sometimes yearn for the days of years past when "lockdown" wasn't part of everyday language. When Elmer the pink safety elephant came to school with Officer Friendly to chat about the rules of the road and the importance of walking on a sidewalk. Perhaps it's the media, or maybe it's the advance in technology that allows us the ease of having information at our fingertips, but the perception is we now live in a scarier, more sinister world. Every unfamiliar individual must be eyed with suspicion. We teach our children about "private parts", and good touches and bad touches. We get accosted by organizations offering to fingerprint our kids in case they're ever kidnapped, or worse. School doors are locked immediately after the morning bell. Police are called if you forget to inform the office that your child will be away or late. All school volunteers have to be fingerprinted and cleared by a police check. Same with hockey coaches and scout leaders. And while I realize that it's all an attempt to keep our children safe and secure, I have to wonder if this world is that much more evil than the world we grew up in. Sometimes, no matter what we do, there are people who will harm no matter what. People we trust, or thought we trusted. People the country trusted - like that Russell Williams.

School Crushes

Since Ceilidh has started school, she has come home every night full of stories about what she's done that day, and the friends she's played with at school. We noticed, however, that all of the friends she mentions are boys. A bit concerning for Daddy, who asked if she had any friends that were girls. Ceilidh said she did indeed have girls who were her friends too. When asked what their names were, Ceilidh suddenly couldn't remember any of their names. Given that her older sibling Devlin is her closest playmate (when they're not fighting), I can see why she would feel more comfortable playing with boys. Still, we did ask the teacher if Ceilidh got along with the girls in the class. We were reassured that Ceilidh got along with everyone, and in fact, played with the girls in the senior kindergarten class.
One evening, I found Ceilidh rummaging through the craft supply bin at home. She took some pipe cleaners and twisted them around and proclaimed it was a gift for her friend, Joseph Thomas. A boy? Yes, but Ceilidh was adamant in stating Joseph Thomas was only a friend, nothing more.
But in watching Ceilidh carefully pack away the pipe cleaner craft for Joseph Thomas, it brought back memories of Devlin's first crush on a girl. He was only in junior kindergarten, and one evening, he asked me to help him write a letter. He had a piece of paper and a pencil in his hand and wanted to know how to spell the words, "I  love you". While spelling out the words, I felt touched that my four year old son was writing me a note. I was crushed, when he then asked me how to spell "Dear Paige". Taken aback, I spelled the name out, and then queried about this "Paige". "A girl in my class," was the nonchalant response.
While I had heard many recounts of Zubair, Ivan, Ashar, Simone, Sherry, Aliyah, I had never heard the name Paige before that moment. I rushed to my file and reviewed the class list. No Paige was listed. I retrieved the class picture and asked Devlin to point out Paige, and he replied she was absent that day. Devlin then carefully folded the note and asked me to put in his school bag for the next day. I did as he asked but was then debated the wisdom of my actions. Should I remove the note when he goes to sleep? But what if he discovers it missing at school, and becomes upset with me for kiboshing his romantic overtures? Then again, what if he proffers the note to Paige, and she turns it down? Or worse, laughs at him? Then again, can a kindergarten student read? What to do? And isn't he a bit young to have a crush on a girl?
Speaking with my husband made it worse. He chuckled at his young son's Romeo tendencies and then recalled having his first crush when he was 6! Yikes! I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
In the end, I left the note in his backpack. I remember walking him to school and asking him to point out Paige, but she wasn't in the school yard. When I checked his backpack at the end of the day, the letter was still there. I gently asked him if he had given the note to Paige, wondering if she had given it back to him in a cruel manner that only little girls can execute. Nope. She hadn't been at school that day.
Over the weeks, this Paige girl was quite elusive. She was never there in the school yard when I dropped off Devlin. I didn't approach the teacher, lest I appeared to be overly protective or obsessive. My husband and I wondered if Paige was an "older woman". Perhaps she was a reading buddy or a volunteer?
That year, we had booked a cruise vacation for the week of Valentine's Day. Since he was going to miss exchanging Valentines, Devlin and I prepared his cards ahead of time and left them with his teacher. While he was content to give his classmates Batman Valentines, he wanted a special princess card for Paige. When I suggested he give princess cards to all the girls, he insisted on picking out the biggest princess valentine for Paige and laboriously signed it himself. I'm not sure if there was a reciprocal card from her, or if it was as nice. Surely, if he did receive one, it didn't possess the thoughtfulness that Devlin's Valentine to her did. Junior kindergarten ended, and Paige was not mentioned again. When we asked him whether or not she was in his senior kindergarten class, he indicated she might have moved. So, we're still left wondering if Paige was indeed a kindergarten peer, or an older student, or perhaps, an "imaginary" friend.

That's a sound argument

As part of our Thanksgiving traditions, we went apple picking at a nearby orchard. Before arriving at the apple farm, we had to make a stop at the bank for some cash. Devlin, who was eager to reach the destination, began to whine about the unexpected, albeit short, delay.
Devlin: Why do we have to get money?
Mommy: To pay for the apples we pick.
Devlin: Why?
Mommy (quite exasperated): Well, we've tried to sell you, but no one is interested. And they won't accept you as currency so we need money.
Devlin: You can't sell me! (in an insulted tone)
Mommy: Why not?
Devlin: Because I'm your son.
Daddy: Is that the best you can do for an argument? You'll never make a great lawyer if that's your argument.
There was some silence from the back of the van, and then this...
Devlin: You can't sell me because I'm your son and I'm going to take care of you when you get old.
Daddy: Now that's a good argument!

How Aisling Eats a Donut

 She has my stubborn streak, but she's got her Daddy's sweet tooth. She loves "chocklit" donuts.


Before Aisling gets her treat.



And after...

Smile of the Day

Last night, I was in bed, with Devlin and Aisling on either side. We were getting ready to read another story and go to sleep, hopefully. It was unusually quiet in the house, in that I hadn't heard a peep from Ceilidh is at least 10 minutes. As all parents know, if your child is quiet, it's not a good sign. They are up to no good (for example, scribbling with permanent marker on the wall or eating a crayon) or hiding for a very good reason (poop in the underwear) or eating a prohibited item (like a whole package of gum).
"Where's the other monkey?" I asked Daddy.
Before he could answer, Aisling looked at me incredulously, and piped up, "I'm right HERE!"

Depressing and Ironic

As an Asian, I have poker-straight hair. Like most Asians. Yet my father has curly hair. None of us kids inherited that particular trait. My mother and grandmother permed their hair so they could have curls. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to have curly, wavy hair. There were several occasions of perms in my misguided youth. When I have the time, which is very rare these days, I take a curling iron to my hair to give it a hint of a curl. All temporary measures because my hair is thick and straight.
Except, in my late-thirties, after I've learned to embrace my straight black hair, I've now discovered I do have some curly hair on my head. Unfortunately, they're also GREY!!!!
How utterly depressing....

Knowing Thyself

Ceilidh's been on a naughty streak lately. Her listening skills at home have disappeared. She's been pushing or hitting her little sister, and generally being bothersome to Devlin (another post about that later). She's argued with me about dinner (nothing new there) and whines about having Daddy to herself every evening. When asked to pick out a book for bedtime, she readily agrees but then spends thirty minutes twiddling her thumbs and then screams in protest when no story is read to her. Saturday was a particularly trying day for the family. Ceilidh couldn't even sit on the couch for thirty seconds to watch a little bit of television. Nope. Instead, she climbed on Daddy, kicked at Devlin, pulled all the cushions and blankets off the couch and then, screamed at the thought of going to bed. By Saturday night, I was to ready to hand in my resignation as her mother. I couldn't find the proper desk to file the paperwork.
Sunday morning dawned cold and clear. Instead of heading downstairs for a work out, I cuddled with Aisling who was fighting a cold. Ceilidh came in to snuggle up to her hero - Daddy. Without prompting, she began to regale us with the tales of her dreams. Her night adventures included princesses and castles. Midway through her monologue, I interrupted with a query.
"Ceilidh, do you think you can be a very good girl today? That you can listen and obey Mommy and Daddy today?"
No answer. In fact, not even an acknowledgment of my question. Instead, after pausing for a slight moment, she continued with the details of her dream.
Again, I tried.
"Ceilidh? Can you be a good girl today and listen to Mommy and Daddy?"
No response.
"Ceilidh, do you hear me?"
"Yes."
Exasperated, I said, "Well?"
No response.

Wow. No promises of trying to be a good girl. Maybe she had already planned to be naughty that day. Or maybe she just knows she's not capable of fulfilling that tall order on that particular day. At least she knows better than to commit to something she can't.

Ceilidh's Artistic Talents

If the number of paintings, crafts and drawings she brings home is any indication, I think "art" is a big component of junior kindergarten. Everyday, there's something new to post on our fridge door, which is now buried under so much "art", I can't find the door handle!
Here's the latest drawing she brought home. For Daddy.
When I asked her what it was, this was her explanation (as told to her teacher apparently, her uncle, and her daddy as well):
It's a picture of my daddy. I drew it at school. See, he's so fat because he eats lots of grapes. Look - there's the grapes in his big tummy!

When Devlin interpreted the drawing for Auntie Grace, he was admonished for his use of the word "fat".
Auntie Grace: Devlin, it's not very nice to say someone's fat.
Devlin: Well, you better talk to Ceilidh about that one.

Contrast in Sleep Styles

I love watching my children sleep - it's the only time they're quiet and angelic. A few nights ago, after a late frisbee game, we came home to our three monkeys, slumbering away in our bed. I think I stood there for five minutes, just relishing the peacefulness, while gazing upon their sleeping forms. Devlin was curled up against a pillow, Ceilidh in the middle and Aisling on the side with her arms flung up and soother firmly between her lips.
I don't know how our nanny does it, but she always convinces them to sleep together in the same bed. We can never seem to all the parties to agree to this, unless we - the parents- also agree to sleep in the same bed. We did start out with the family bed, but we've now moved onto the parental beds. That is, Daddy gets one kid (usually Ceilidh) and I get the other two. Which is fine with me since both Devlin and Aisling fall asleep within minutes of their heads hitting the pillow. They are truly tactile children, whereas Ceilidh is apparently a auditory child.
Huh? Yep, apparently one can now classify children by senses. Tactile children are the kids who are full of energy that must released before sleep can occur. They're also the kids that cannot bear to go to sleep if something else is going on with other family members. Bedtime is a group activity where opting is not an option. But once that excess energy is gone, and their batteries are on low, Devlin and Aisling enter into dream land quickly. It's like a switch that goes off. What's interesting is that, as babies, these two were the ones that woke up regularly every 3 hours or so to be fed. Now, they will sleep through thunder, snoring, crying and whatever else once they've fallen asleep, and so long as no one is kicking them in the face.
Ceilidh is a different story. Even though she's clearly exhausted, she will fight the idea of going to sleep if she can't sleep with her hero - Daddy. And she loves to chat as she's falling asleep. After discovering her classification as an "auditory" child, I've learned to deal with her bedtime struggles by letting her talk until she's used up her daily word quota. In fact, I've fallen asleep listening to her chatter on about the princesses and the castle and the superheroes that came to rescue the princess. (Apparently there are also classifications of children as visual and taste and smell. While I understand the absence of visual cues, or things to look at like a tv or books, will calm a "visual" child, I'm not sure about the taste and smell child.)

As a mother of three, I have learned that a baby's early sleep patterns are not indicative of their sleep styles as they get older. For example, Devlin and Aisling never slept through the night as infants. I think it took Devlin almost 2 and half years before he would slumber without waking. Aisling, probably 18 months. Both would wake every 2-3 hours for a feed in the early months, and then every 4 hours, and then once a night for middle of the night snack. Meanwhile as a baby, Ceilidh was THAT one - the babe that slept through the night at 6 weeks! She would fall asleep anywhere easily, and even manage to sleep through her older brother's tantrums. She's also the only one of my children to smile while sleeping.
I still catch a glimpse of that baby in my Ceilidh nowadays. When Ceilidh is tired during the day, she will have a nap. Whether it's in the car, or on the couch, or sometimes on the floor where she was playing with her stickers. One day, she turned to her Aunt Grace and announced she was going to have a nap. Then she stretched out, closed her eyes and slept. Similarly, Aisling is easy to convince when it comes to nap time. In fact, when she was about 15 months old, and it was nap time, Aisling would head upstairs for the rocking chair and retrieve her blanket. Then she'd wait at the top of the stairs for Daddy to come and rock her to the lullabies.
Devlin was another story. When he turned two, he decided that naps were overrated. Especially when Mommy or Daddy were home.(Again, see definition of tactile child above.) When I was home on maternity leave after Ceilidh, the only way I could manage to have both Devlin and Ceilidh fall asleep at the same time during the afternoon was by taking them for a drive. I'd pop Ceilidh into her infant seat, strap Devlin into his car seat and then head for the nearest Tim Horton's drive thru while playing soft lullabies on the CD. After picking up a coffee, I'd start driving a 10km route that took us out to the nearby farms and highways. Eventually, with both kids snoozing, I'd make my way back home. I even mastered unstrapping Devlin and removing him from the car seat, entering the house, removing his shoes and getting him onto the couch without waking him. On rare occasions, he'd fall asleep on his own. Like the time I found him asleep in his laundry basket, with a pillow, after a tantrum.

With the arrival of Aisling, I gave up trying to convince Devlin it was nap time. While Ceilidh slept, and Aisling dozed, I'd let Devlin watch some Treehouse and try to catch a few winks myself. One afternoon, I remember smelling toast while I dozed on the couch with Aisling on my chest. In a panic, I ran to the kitchen. All the kitchen cupboards were open, there was milk on the counter, the fridge door was hanging open, and Devlin looking pleased with himself sitting at the table. He had prepared for himself some toast and poured a cup of milk because he was hungry and didn't want to wake me up.

Eventually, I'm sure my monkeys will sleep in their own bed, and won't require so much hands-on treatment to fall asleep. In the meantime, we have our bedtime routines that the experts preach will aid in developing good sleep habits. There's a bath and story time, although in our family, it's more like 4 or 5 stories. Sometimes there's a game of UNO beforehand. After prayers and the last sip of milk, it's time for lights out and we all fall asleep. All of us. Including mommy and daddy. Maybe when they're sleeping in their own beds, mommy and daddy will be able to stay awake to watch prime time television, or the late night news.

But really, with cute monkeys like these, how can I possibly exile them to sleep in their own bed?

Aspiring to be a Worthy Parent

Recently, the media reported a story of a young boy in Kingston who was selling his toys to raise money for a headstone for his late father. The boy was 9 years old and he had lost his father to a sudden illness last year. Even though there was insurance to deal with debts, the mother explained there hadn't been enough money left over to pay for a headstone. The young child, wanting something permanent to mark his father's burial site, decided to hold a garage sale and sell his toys. As I read the selfless and loving actions of this young child, tears welled up in my eyes. The story touched the hearts of many across Canada. A follow-up article reported that a company was willing to construct the headstone, free of charge, while others were sending in money to help this child meet his goal. Athletes and celebrities called to donate memorabilia for the garage sale and classmates were donating their toys for the sale. Many of the readers who were touched by this story had also lost their parents at a young age. Although the headstone has now been secured, the garage sale is still going ahead with proceeds to be donated to a local charity, also the young child's decision. The remainder of the donations are to be put into an education fund for this boy.
As I read this story, I thought to myself, how lucky was that child, even though it was for a short time, to have such a great dad that it compelled him to act in such a selfless manner. To be motivated, at age 9, to sell his toys and find the money to purchase a headstone for his father. That dad must have been one great parent. To be loved and held in such esteem. And then I felt such guilt and remorse for yelling at my kids earlier. Children have short memories, and my actions would not invoke such loving gestures from my offspring. I can't promise I won't ever yell at my kids ('cuz that would be foolhardy), but I can vow to try harder to be a better mom. I can promise to work harder at keeping my patience. After all, five or ten years from now, will it really matter that we were late again for another lesson, or that dinner was served cold? Will it matter that the milk was spilled again? (It shouldn't considering the state of our floors anyways.) We all know the answer to this. We want to "do right" by our kids, and what we all want is to be held up, in the eyes of our children, as heroes. And what superhero yells at their kid all the time?

Potty Training Adventures - part 1

Now that Devlin and Ceilidh are in school all day long, we've decided it's a great time to get serious with potty training Aisling. Previous attempts were met with some success, and then total refusal.
When I'd suggest she pee in the potty, Aisling would look at me with disdain, and state calmly, "Change my bum."
If I urged her even more to sit on the toilet, she would refuse and lay down on the floor, assuming the bum-changing position.
Sticker rewards meant nothing to her. Smarties only worked for two days. We upped the ante and offered her Oreo cookies for successful trips to the potty. Then Aisling caught on to the game. She began to demand the treat BEFORE she'd sit on the potty. With treat in hand, she'd sit for a few minutes and then declare "I can't!" and hop off the throne.
With the excitement of summer and the adventures that accompany it, potty training was shelved for awhile. Last week, we've re-evaluated our strategy, and stocked up on a Costco-sized box of Princess Pull-ups. Aisling is more amenable to sitting on the toilet and producing a result. Of course, in addition to the pretty princess pull-up, we've acquiesced to her demands for bottles (as opposed to sippy cups) of milk, and all the soothers her little paws can hold. She is much more agreeable to being taken to the toilet by our nanny, and more or less fights with Daddy about the issue.
Yesterday morning, I was rushing around packing lunches for Devlin and Ceilidh, while consuming my own breakfast. Aisling woke up and demanded her morning bottle. I provided it with a suggestion that she go potty. She said "NO" quite clearly. Instead she sat on the counter, begging for bites of my bagel while cuddling against me. In between tiny nibbles, she noticed the bracelet I was wearing.
"What's that?" she pointed.
"It's mommy's bracelet. Do you want it? I'll let you wear it if you go pee pee on the potty," I tried to tempt her.
"No."
"Go potty, and you can have the bracelet," I said as I took off the bauble.
"No, I want that!" my precocious toddler stated as she pointed to my diamond engagement ring.

Well, she's got good taste and a stubborn streak. I can't deny she's mine.

How I spent my summer vacation (by a mom)

I did not visit a spa or obtain a much needed pedicure and foot massage, despite the wear and tear from a season of ultimate frisbee.
I did not spend an afternoon watching soaps, or my favorite TV chefs, or even catch of re-run of Oprah.
I did not have leisurely mornings spent in bed while some fairy whipped up delicious breakfasts.
I did not travel to an exotic location that required passports and hours of air travel.

But...

I did go to the mall six or seven times to purchase back-to-school gear, backpacks, shoes, clothes for Ceilidh who sprouted over the summer months.
I did schedule a visit with the pediatrician to have Devlin's medical forms filled out for school, and then dropped of the forms and medication at the school BEFORE the school year began.
I did register the children in all of their extra-curricular activities: gymnastics for Ceilidh and Aisling on Tuesdays; piano lessons for Devlin on Tuesday; swimming lessons for all three on Fridays; gymnastics for Devlin on Saturdays; dance lessons for Ceilidh and Aisling on Saturdays; and hockey for Devlin on Saturday and Sunday.
Then, I acquired all the required accouterments for the above activities. New dance shoes purchased for Ceilidh, old pair of Ceilidh's dance shoes for Aisling. New dance leotards for Ceilidh and old one found for Aisling. Hockey equipment became a bone of contention between the parents. Dad didn't believe old helmet was still suitable and spent $63 on a new one. He came home and discovered he bought the EXACT SAME helmet we already had, which meant a trip back to the store to return the $63 helmet and the totally unnecessary $90 hockey bag.
I put away summer clothes, or at least most of the summer clothes, and dug out fall/winter clothing for the children. I took stock of what was needed and returned to the stores once again.
Lunch box paraphernalia also had to be purchased.
I did finally get around to weeding and trimming the overgrown hedges in the backyard.
I realized I forgot to purchase new rubber boots. But umbrellas we have.
A note came home from school on Friday. Indoor shoes required for Devlin. Another trip to the store.
Husband also noted that he needed new pants. Yet another outing for the credit card.

I think I need a vacation to recover from my summer vacation.

Okay, I did spend a few days at the family cottage where I read the Millenium trilogy by Stieg Larrson. Very good.
I did get caught up on reading 6 months of back-issues of Today's Parent and Canadian Living. I now know what to do for Easter next year.
I did go through the toys and manage to collect two large bags to donate to charity. Yet the pile of toys haven't shrunk noticeably. Perhaps they reproduce while we sleep?

Ceilidh's First Day of School

Due to a staggered start, today was Ceilidh's first day of junior kindergarten. It will be a full day. I know there's lots of debates and differing opinions on full day kindergarten - waste of money or short term pain for a stronger economy is a popular theme being echoed in the media. It's even become an election issue. Parents also have concerns about his all-day kindergarten. Are these children too young for full day? Opponents will argue many of the children already spend long days in daycares, some of which will be similar to junior kindergarten. The lack of structured nap times are troubling some parents, including myself. More concerning is whether or not the children be adequately fueled throughout the day. After seeing Devlin's half-eaten lunch come home yesterday, I think these concerns are justified. He ate the Bearpaw cookies (4), 1 granola bar, a peach, half a bun and NOTHING ELSE! The strawberries were slightly mushy, the carrots remained untouched, the cheese string was now warm but unopened, as was his pepperette. He drank his juice on the way home. I adjusted the contents today to one treat (animal crackers) but kept the fruit content the same. We'll see how that works out. Ceilidh is even a fussier eater, so I'm worried about how she'll do with the food.

But I digress. This post is about Ceilidh's first day and the excitement surrounding it. She woke up with a smile, and hurried to get dressed. Our nanny braided her hair (a talent I sadly lack must rectify considering I have 2 girls) while I rushed to get ready after an early-morning run. Devlin decided the Batman shirt was much cooler than the striped shirt I picked out for him. There was much urging from Daddy to eat their breakfast but again, the excitement was interfering with hunger. We settled for a yogurt drink, and then there was mass confusion as shoes were located, backpacks put on and taken off as jackets had to be worn. Mommy forgot to pack and label the indoor shoes so she went to take care of that while Daddy looked for the camera for the first day photos. Throughout all of this, there was one person who was decidedly not happy. In fact, this little person was very, very upset and the tears started flowing. Poor Aisling. She knew something was up that didn't involve her, and she was beginning to understand that both Ceilidh and Devlin were heading off to school - without her.

This year will bring lots of changes, but none more so than for Aisling. Her playmates will be gone for the majority of the day, so this will be new territory for her.
Along with Aisling's tears, there were teary eyes from both Mommy and Daddy as we escorted her to school. Daddy was fortunate enough to witness Ceilidh's happy chat with her teacher as she showed off her backpack and the contents and her new indoor shoes. So far, so good. No calls from the school.

First Day of Grade One!

Although Devlin went to sleep quite late last night - a combination of late nights at the cottage and excitement over the new school year - he was awake at the slightest nudge this morning. He bounded out of bed, threw on his clothes excitedly and hopped down the stairs for breakfast. Devlin was raring to go.

He was so excited he declared he couldn't finish his breakfast. I coaxed him to at least finish his yogurt drink. When I advised him that I would pick him for lunch, he was very upset. I explained I hadn't gone grocery shopping so I didn't have much. He wanted to eat lunch at school with his friends, like everyone else. So I scrounged around the fridge looking for something suitable to pack into his lunch bag. A couple of pepperettes, string cheese and hot dog bun. Devlin proclaimed it satisfactory. He quickly posed for the obligatory first day of school photos and then urged us to get our shoes on.
And off we went at a brisk pace. Mommy, Daddy, Ceilidh and Devlin. Along the way, we saw many others parents accompanying their children on the first day of school. The school yard was a confusion of bodies - parents with cameras, children running around greeting their classmates, teachers with clipboards checking off student names. We found Devlin's class, met his teacher and escorted him to the back of the line.
"Bye Mommy! Bye Daddy! Bye Ceilidh!" he said as he waved with a smile on his face. One last hug and kiss for mom and dad, and then he followed the line into the building. As I gazed upon my first-born, strutting confidently while hoisting up his backpack, my husband turned to me and asked if I was teary-eyed yet. Not until that moment. He, of course, was wiping away some moisture from his eyes.
Two years ago, it was a different story. There was lots of tears and untangling of little arms from my legs. There was a look of nervous apprehension. I saw none of that today from my first-grader. As I scanned the schoolyard, I did see more than one kindergarten pupil clinging to their parent while sobbing. That was me a mere twenty-four months ago. And then there were the after-school chats and phone calls from the teachers regarding his behaviour. A visit to the vice-principal's office in the first week of junior kindergarten for fighting! That had to be a record. I'll admit that throughout the day, I kept checking our phone, nervously, lest there was a call from the school. It's 25 minutes from dismissal, and I haven't heard anything yet. Let's hope this is a sign of the year to come.
Tomorrow - Ceilidh's first day of (all-day) junior kindergarten!

The CNE in numbers

The day's heat - 33 degrees Celsius but with the humidity - it was 40-something.

Two adult passes and two children's passes (Aisling still free) totals $44. But that's only the admission to the grounds. Add in 3 all day ride passes for the kids and 77 ride tickets for the accompanying parent - too much to think about without breaking down and whimpering.

Still, let's add in $20 spent on games for five prizes that probably cost 50 cents to produce in China.

One freshly squeezed lemonade for $8! But worth every last cent in this heat.

Five, no, make that 3 turns on the merry-go-round. 4 times on the Speedway that whips you around the corners. Twice on the Bumblebee, and once on the train. All for Aisling.

Lost count of the rides that Ceilidh and Devlin enjoyed.  

8 - the number of times Devlin ran through the fire hydrant to cool off.

10 - number of week old piglets sleeping with mama in the Farm Building.

12 - various cold drinks drained to the last drop.

24 fresh, still warm, Tiny Tom doughnuts consumed within minutes.

Two hot and sweaty parents and three smiling kids = another profitable year for The Ex.

One very tired toddler.

P.S. Deep fried butter? Never got a chance, with three rugrats in tow.

How to Raise a Juvenile Delinquent

Disclaimer - Please remember, the views expressed in this post are mine alone.

Given my line of work, I do see lots of problem kids, and sometimes their families. Every time I encounter one of these children, I wonder to myself, how do I NOT raise a child like *that*. It's a conversation my co-workers and I often have, and the one consistent theme we've returned to is  - STAY INVOLVED. Easier said than done. Our lives are busy. We're juggling demanding careers, some of us commute, most of have more than one child, some of us also are caring for other family members, some are single parents, in addition to the usual day-to-day pressures of just surviving.
I recently dealt with a case where the parents had simply no control over their teenaged son. What was more profound was that it seemed that both mom and dad had given up on this child. The father was well-aware that the boy was smoking dope heavily, but did nothing to deal with it, aside from lecturing the kid to make sure pot was interfering with school work. Dad thought his son was going into grade 11 while mom thought he was taking grade 10. Neither parent knew their child's friends, and both were unaware of the court conditions their son was on. In fact, dad was surprised to hear that his child had recently been sentenced.
This child resided at home with both parents, yet it was clear that both parents were clueless about their child's whereabouts, schooling, peer group or anything else that mattered. Is it any wonder this kid was in court again?
Okay, maybe I'm taking an extreme example. But there are parents out there who have no clue as to their child's social activities, nor their school schedule. I've asked many parents what classes their son or daughter were taking, only to be met with blank stares. There are parents who are stunned to discover that police have found drugs in their child's bedroom or knapsack. Parents who are shocked to learn their child is communicating in Internet chat rooms frequented by predators. I honestly believe that children under the age of 18 years should not be allowed to have a Facebook page or My Space page. There are too many crazy individuals out there who are more tech savvy than the hapless parent. Police lecture over and over again to parents the importance of having the family computer in an open area, like the family room or kitchen so that parents can monitor what their children are doing. Or removing access to the Internet on other computers the children may have access to, but not all families are practicing this. When confronted by outraged teenagers who scream about "invasion of privacy", many parents will acquiesce to their children instead of braving the fight. Kids are smart. Once their parents have given in one area, they know it'll be easy to bend another rule. Curfews get later and later. So many parents are content with the line "Going to my friend's" without asking more probing questions, like who that friend is, where the friend lives, and whether or not adult supervision will be available.
At a recent get together with good friends, we discussed work hours and working conditions in general, particularly the long-ish hours my husband logs. While I do complain about the hours he works, the rugrats' dad is always home for dinner and the various activities for the children. He's only late when the GO train is delayed. Which means, whatever doesn't get done at the office during the day gets done late at night or early in the morning when the kiddies are snoozing. His job is also flexible enough to allow him to work from home on occasion so he can attend school assemblies and the kids' medical appointments when I cannot. When she heard this, our friend went on and on about the importance of putting in the long hours now, especially given this treacherous economy. I wasn't sure where she was going, but she was relating how their acquaintance had been sacked recently when the company has discovered this individual was spending more and more time doing errands and dealing with kids when "working from home". I came away with the impression that it was more important to put in the "face" time at the office, since the kids are young now. Once the career is well-established, there would be time for a more relaxed pace. I'm not certain, but I believe that was premised on the fact that older children are involved in more time-consuming activities and the teen aged years are more troublesome and would required more parental involvement.
Both my husband and I disagree with this concept. Our children are young, and now is the time to "be there" for them. Firstly, we are both established enough in our careers that we are not still jockeying for positions in our respective organizations. I'm also fortunate enough to have a secure job. Secondly, I think both of our employers appreciate and understand the importance of family. Thirdly, having set the pattern now that our children are our utmost in priority will guide us in our future decisions regarding career paths. Besides, whether or not children are 5 or 15 years of age, parenting is time-consuming and soul-encompassing task at any and every stage.
We only have this once chance to raise our children right. If a home is built on an unstable foundation and shoddily constructed, any idiot can tell you what will happen the minute that structure is subjected to any form of stress. The same is true for the parent-child relationship. If you've been so wrapped up in establishing your career, that you don't get to know your child, how can you hope to build a relationship when that child is older? You've already sent the message to your children that they are not the most important in your life. Similarly if you're only there to discipline the misbehaving kid, how can you expect that kid to ever open up to you about his or her dreams, fears, questions?
The time to invest in my children's future is now. We need to lay down the groundwork to building a healthy relationship where they will listen, obey, respect and trust us as their parents. While we may be strict, we truly believe it's for their own benefit. Children need limits, and they need to be told "No" every so often. Yes, they cry and whine and throw tantrums, but eventually they will learn that their will is not my command. Giving in to every whim and desire will merely breed a spoiled brat.
We try to eat one meal together as a family. Generally, that's dinner, and we take the time to converse with our kids. Whether it's asking what he learned in school, or listening to the latest adventure the princess had with Barbie. We pore over the progress reports and make efforts to speak with the teachers. We enroll our rugrats in various activities to enrich their lives, but also to keep them busy and to lay down the foundation to a diverse peer group.
By setting out the pattern now, when they are young, will make life easier for all parties when the children are older. For instance, having known that dinner is family time when they're young, means they will know no different when they're older. If we follow through with the punishments now, our children will expect no less when they're teenagers. Rather than trying to assign chores at a later age, our children know that toys are to be picked up every evening, dirty clothes belong in their laundry baskets and plates and cutlery are to be put into the sink once they're finished a meal or a snack. Even Aisling can reach up and pitch her (plastic) bowl into the sink. Attempting to set boundaries and discipline when the children are older, I think, would be akin to closing the barn door after the horse has escaped!
We have the rest of our lives to earn a living, or make headlines with our careers, but that is not true of being parents. You have one chance to parent. One chance to screw up a child's life, or not. One chance to instill yourself in your child's life as a parent, mentor, educator, and trusted ally.