Aliens!

Some kids are afraid of monsters that hide under the bed. Or await in the basement.

Aisling is afraid of aliens, and apparently they live in our house - on the stairs, in the basement, in the spare room.

Aliens, or "a-leens" as she pronounces them, have become frequent guests at our home ever since Buzz Lightyear has enjoyed renewed popularity, thanks to Toy Story 3. On preparation for the new movie, the kids have been watching Toy Story 1 and 2, and the Buzz Lightyear movies. Devlin gets dressed up in the Buzz Lightyear costume, and Aisling puts on the Woody outfit. They both fight the various evil forces, while Ceilidh rides around the horse as Jessie.

If you ask Aisling to retrieve her bottle or soother or toy, she refuses, citing "a-leens". She points and declares there are "a-leens" so she can't. It's more creative than a simple "no", I guess.

Body language - part 1

A few months ago, Devlin pointed to my chest area and asked, "Why do you have small boobs?"

Compared to whom, I wondered. But instead, a bit startled by the question, I answered, "Because I breastfed the three of you, and the proper word is breasts."

Ignoring my correction, he then asked, "Does that mean you're a small mommy?"

"Huh?" But before I could probe his line of questioning further, he moved onto a another topic, which is typical of young children and their short attention spans.

I figured the curiosity was due to him observing our former nanny breastfeeding her baby. Nothing more was said of the topic, so I left it alone.

Then tonight, in the bath, he pointed to my bare chest and asked, "Why are they called boobs?"

(Yes, I sometimes get in the tub with the kids. It's easier and more efficient to bathe all 3 kids in this manner. And these days, it's the only chance I get to soak in a tub full of bubbles.)

"The proper word is breasts," I corrected.

"We call it boobs," he replied.

Then Ceilidh piped up. "Actually, we call it boobyberries!"

I didn't know if I should laugh (never heard that before) or ignore it. Didn't matter, the silliness just multiplied.

Boobyberries! Really?!

Time Well Spent

It's time for end-of-year assemblies, and Devlin's kindergarten class did a presentation of The Little Red Hen. Same a last year, but a different rendition. Apparently there are many variations of the story. You learn something new every day!
So, I informed my boss I'd be coming into work late. My desk at work is covered with files and my inbox is overflowing. The stress level at the office is high. I can't really afford to slack off, but some things in life are too important to pass up.
Last night, Devlin put on a brave face, and said, "Mommy, we're doing The Little Red Hen tomorrow. Are you coming? Because if you're not, it's okay." The last part came out in a rush, as if rehearsed a few times.
"No, I'll be there. I can't wait to see it. I already told my boss I needed to see my little boy's assembly."
The grin on his face could have lit up a stadium.
"Okay, that's great. But you can't laugh at me," he instructed.

Mommy and Daddy and Ceilidh turned up at the school to watch this very short (10 minute) presentation of The Little Red Hen. Then there was crafts for the pupils and parents. Glue everywhere, little hands manoeuvring scissors, markers here and there. I did glance at my watch a few times. We did all the craft stations. Then we gathered up our little boy and went home. Or rather, I dropped them off at home and then fought the cottage traffic to get to work.
The pile on my desk had grown even more. As I hunkered down to tackle the files, I had one image in my mind. The happy smile on Devlin's face when he spotted his parents and younger sister in the crowd. And the sad faces of the children whose parents were unable to attend. It was well worth the headache that greeted me at work.

Expanding Vocabulary

I remember the days when all three of my kids started talking. Each new word or phrase that was mastered created much excitement. The first dozen times I heard "Mommy" uttered from the lips of my children brought pure unadulterated joy. These days, not so much. Usually I cringe, because the "Mommy" is quickly followed by "Oops...I didn't mean to but..." or "s/he started it".
There were also those words that brought mortification upon hearing them from these rugrats. Like the time Devlin stated "f---" after seeing the poop in his underwear. This was back in the potty training days, when he was completely potty trained, and inexplicably regressed and refused to use the toilet for poop. He would pee like clockwork in the toilet, but steadfastly refused to poop in anything but his underwear. After awhile, frustrated beyond belief (especially after reading parenting books that stated such regression was completely normal and could last up to a year), I would curse whenever I had to peel away poopy underwear. Finally, Devlin picked up on the proper usage of the curse.
Ceilidh, thankfully, hasn't picked up any nasty language. It's still something worth tattling on when she hears someone say "stupid". Aisling is still at that adorable stage with a slight lisp, when every comment (other than "no") elicits smiles and laughs. Her "Ewww, 'gusting" whenever she smells or sees something unpleasant is hilarious, as is her "peeth" for please.
You measure your toddler's development by their expanding vocabulary. As they grow older, you begin to assess their development by their grammar and the complexity of their sentences. You can also determine when your little baby boy is becoming a real boy by listening to their new lingo. For instance, last week, I realized that Devlin had picked up the word "totally".
D: Something funny happened at school. In gym, I couldn't catch the ball and it hit in the face. Everyone laughed but it like, totally hurt.
Another example:
D: Excuse me...I farted.
Me: You sure did, and it does stink.
D (grinning): Yeah, it totally smells.

My little boy is growing up. Totally.

Devlin turns 6!

It's been 6 years since my life changed forever. Six years since we entered into the world of parenthood and sleepless nights. Six years since we started referring to each other as Mommy and Daddy, gave up fine dining with candlelight for those places that give you a toy with a meal, ditched new releases for Baby Einstein and Treehouse TV. It's been six years since we learned you CAN experience extreme frustration and overwhelming love for pint-sized creature that vaguely resembles both you and your partner.




Yes, six years ago, after 36 hours of labour, our first-born, Devlin, entered our lives with a squalling cry, puckered up face and hairy back. We fell head over heels in love, and haven't looked back since. Well, okay, we fantasize about having an uninterrupted sleep every once in awhile, but we can't remember what life was like BK (before kids). Such is the beauty of parenthood. One conveniently forgets how we ever survived without these creatures that require every ounce of energy we possess and then some more. We wonder what we ever talked about BK since our every conversation, even we are away from the rugrats, are about the little buggers. It's like labour pains. There's an amnesiatic quality about childbirth. Once the babe is placed in our arms, we forget about the torturous route that resulted in this ethereal moment. So we embark on that path again, and again.



But I digress... this post is supposed to be about our 6 year old monkey and his birthday celebrations.



His Royal Highness had two birthday parties - one with his friends and one with family. The party with his friends was held at the movies, Shrek Forever After, complete with a Shrek themed cake. There was a bit of confusion on Devlin's part as his birthday party was not held on June 18th.



"Why is it my party? It's not June 18? I'm not 6 yet. Can we wait to have the party on June 18th?"



Apparently, to an almost six year old, it's "cheating" to have your party early.


On the actual day, that is, the 18th, he was awakened by Ceilidh singing "Happy Birthday" loudly right into his ear and Aisling smiling broadly while she hugged him.  He wore a new hat to school (a present from Rose, our nanny) and brought freezies to share with his classmates, in lieu of a cake. There were special messages from relatives and trip down to Windsor to have another yummy cake, and more presents to open. A Detroit Tigers baseball cap sized for a tiny head, new books and some new toys - all of which were received with great appreciation from a supremely happy boy.

Summer treats

Summer means soccer games and post-game ice cream treats from the ice cream truck. Here's Aisling after enjoying her cone!

Aisling's Birthday Pics

I know, I know, her birthday was weeks ago, and I'm just getting around to posting about it now. Well, in my defence, it wasn't that I was neglecting my little angel, but because I didn't have any photos and had to wait for the pictures to be sent to me.

What? No pictures of my baby's second birthday? Yep. No, it wasn't because she's the third child, and thus fewer photos of her, compared to the others. You know, the first born always has the most pictures of babyhood and childhood, while each younger sibling has fewer and fewer photos. Although there are many, many folks out there who are not the first-born who have no baby photos of themselves, this is not the case. In fact, I think I have more photos of Aisling than of Ceilidh, although I haven't actually printed them.

No, it was a comedy of errors. The birthday celebration was held at the family beach house. I packed the camera, unaware the battery was dead, and of course, the charger was back home. Auntie Grace also left her usually ever present camera at home. Even the grandparents didn't have a camera. So, we relied on Uncle Billy's cool phone for the pictures.

It was still a celebration, despite the lack of photos. There was a cake. There was much posing in her hambok (traditional Korean costume). There was singing as Aisling grinned and took in all the attention that was focused on her. She blew out the candles with the help of her older siblings. There were presents. She tried on all of her new outfits, declaring them to be "pwetty" and hugged her new doll while lounging against a giant teddy bear. And she demonstrated her hand-eye coordination by thoroughly enjoying demolishing her piece of birthday cake. All the while, stating "Happy Burfday" before taking a bite. (Since her special day, no cake can be eaten without her saying "Happy Birthday" before each spoonful.)

Mommy's Birthday

It was my birthday yesterday and it turned out to be a great day. With each passing year, it's hard to look forward to getting another year older. While I'd like to stop counting the actual number of years it's been since I entered this world, my son won't let me. For several days, I've been asked "How old are you going to be?" Or better yet, "Will you finally be older than Daddy?" My response to that was, "No, I'll never be older than your daddy, but I will always be more mature."
Despite the dreary weather, my day started out with "Happy Birthday Mommy" greetings from the children followed by wet kisses before I left for work.  I received phone calls from family members and messages from friends. When I returned home, there were two lovely handmade cards waiting for me on my bed, and more wet kisses. Ceilidh presented me with her favorite toys as her present to me, but only for the night. Devlin declared his present to mommy would be giving her the honour and delight of sleeping with him. Okay, it wasn't worded in that manner.
There was a big delicious cake, an off-tune "Happy Birthday" sung by my family, and Aisling's help in blowing out the candles. I think there was some spit that got onto the cake. A Magic Bullet system appeared next to the cake. Yummy drinks anyone?
But the best present was probably hearing the comments about my son from the kindergarten teachers at school  There was an information session on all-day kindergarten that I attended last night. Yes, Ceilidh is off to junior kindergarten in September, and it's going to be ALL-DAY!  Afterwards, I briefly chatted with the teachers, and they all claimed Devlin was a delight since he makes them laugh EVERY DAY! Apparently he's quite the chatter box and regales them all with tales of our family (uh-oh) and that he's very smart. He's also the ringleader of a group of 7 boys, and very well-liked.
It's always nice to hear such positive comments about your kid. Especially when we had such worries about him adjusting to school at all. The very first week of junior kindergarten, he got sent to the vice-principal's office for fighting. It was 3 months before he could walk into the building without crying buckets of tears. There were several more phone calls about his behaviour during that trying year of junior kindergarten. To hear he has adjusted smoothly and is more than ready to tackle grade one was the "icing on the cake" to my birthday.

Imagination Land

One of the greatest things about being a parent is getting the chance to re-live childhood with your kids, especially getting caught up in their worlds of princesses, monsters, and superheroes. As adults, we often get caught up in the grind of day-to-day routines that we need to survive and we forget to stop and smell the roses. We're so busy trying to earn a living, while raising a family, keeping the house in some semblance of cleanliness and order, making sure the fridge is stocked while little tummies are full of more-or-less nutritious foods, struggling to squeeze in time to do other mundane tasks like pay the bills, budget, keep on top of homework. I think as adults and parents, we have all forgotten how to indulge in the skill of imagination. Except of course, when the predicted jackpot for the lottery is $50 million.
Devlin's class is currently learning about the solar system. He brought home his craft the other day. It was a small styrofoam ball stuck onto a popsicle stick. The ball had been painted a myriad of colours in a free-form fashion - mostly green, blue, purple, red and a small spot of white.
"This is my planet," he stated. "Can I tell you about my planet?"
Here is the story of his planet:
D: This is my planet. It's very far from earth.
M: Who lives on it?
D: Just me.
M: Aren't you lonely?
D: Well, it's a planet for me and my family. So there's you and daddy, Ceilidh and Aisling. Oh, yeah, and harmony and hahbudgee (grandma and grandpa). Ummm....Uncle Billy, Auntie Grace, Mia, Auntie Shunaha and Uncle Nowell.
M: Where do we live on this planet?
D: On the purple part. Maybe a little bit on the red part. But not the white part. You can't live on the white part.
M: Why not? Are there monsters?
D: No. There's a great war. But it's okay, I have an army to protect us.
M: How big is the army?
D: Lots and lots of soldiers. And I paid them fifty million dollars money to protect us.
M (thinking that's a group of mercenaries who's demanding that kind of pay): Wow. That's a lot of money. Where did you get fifty million dollars? (And can I have some?)
D: From my friend.
M: Who's your friend? (And why don't I know this person?)
D: Well, he's gone now. He was very old, and he died, but he left me the money. I have lots of money.
M: Okay...
D: Anyways, on my planet, did I tell you we're very far from the sun?
M: But wouldn't it be very cold then? No sun to keep us warm.
D: Nope, because I used my powers to bring my planet close to the sun when we get cold. My friends also have their own planets, but mine is the best.

See - isn't it great to get lost in your child's mind for a few minutes each day? It should be the antidote that prescribed for every depressed or overworked or stressed out individual.

Time-out for Poop?

Wayne and I have been playing ultimate frisbee for most of our married life. It's a great way to get exercise, be outdoors, meet new people and spend some quality time together. It's also the one time we are allowed to yell at each other, so long as it's not about the dirty socks on the floor or the lack of help in the area of household chores. There was a time when we used to play three times a week, and drive all over the GTA to get to a game. Now, we're restricted to one night and the fields a very short distance from home.
Which is great because we always bring the kids with us. They've been coming out to the frisbee games since they were 2 weeks old. Yep - I was that crazy woman on the field two weeks after popping out a kid.
We've always had great teammates who took turns rocking a screaming infant or keeping an eye on wayward toddlers. These days, our teammates also have little ones. I remember one game where there were three female teammates, all nursing our babies on the field during half-time. It's like a daycare on the sidelines, or an exuberant cheering section. In a few years, they'll be tall enough to be our subs. Devlin's already learning how to throw the disc.
That's one of the reasons we keep playing frisbee. It's a chance for our kids to get unstructured play time - running around on the grass, or kicking a soccer ball with a playmate, or hanging out at the park. Even when it's pouring rain, the children are the ones having the most fun splashing around while the adults are grumbling while slipping and sliding across the field.
Having kids out at the game is great, but it's also not without complications. If there aren't enough players for subs, there's no one to keep an eye on the kids. There have been games where one of us have run off the field, mid-play, to chase after a child. Or run onto the field to catch Aisling as she ran after me. There's always one kid asking for a snack. Oh yes, the ever present snack bag is another reason why our kids love frisbee nights. Juice boxes, crackers, cookies, fruit. Although, more often than not, fruit is not the first choice. On the rare occasion, there's a disagreement amongst the playmates that has to be sorted out by an adult. Or a minor injury.
And then there's the "I hafta pee" cry from the sidelines. My one complaint about ultimate frisbee is the lack of bathroom facilities at the fields. There's also no time-outs for bathroom breaks. I've already checked the rules and regulations. Especially since Devlin isn't technically a member of the team.
There have been many games where we've yelled, mid-play, "pee on the grass!" The next time we glance over at the fields, there's Devlin, pants down by his ankles with his little bum towards us. At least, he's got modesty.
Two weeks ago, we had the unexpected. " I hafta poo!" he cried. There's still 20 minutes left in the game. "Can you hold it?"
"No! It's coming right now!"
Wayne and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders, and then looked around.
"See those trees? Go over there. Take the diaper wipes and go!"
Off he went, scampering along to the trees.

After the game, Wayne got dispatched to pick up the poop for the garbage. Devlin was quite proud of his deposit as he pointed out where he had gone.

This week, we decided to bring a plastic bag just in case. Good thing. It was required again. For the same child.  Should I bring a portable potty next time?

Dancing Queen

Well, it's that time of the year again. End of the year recitals, extra-curricular activities and lessons coming to an end, preparations for the last day of school...and here's Ceilidh, my dancing diva.

Her dance recital was held on the weekend. It was hilarious and I was filled with pride, despite the missteps and missed cues.

My homecoming welcome

Last week, I attended a three-day conference that necessitated in my being absent from the family home for two nights. I'll admit, I had been looking forward to this work obligation since it would mean two nights of child-free sleep, and at least one night of dining out without having to cut up food for a youngster. But as the date approached, I began to have the usual worries and stresses - all unfounded - of how the kids would cope without mommy. Or more importantly, how daddy would survive. So, I hustled and bustled the night before my conference, ensuring the fridge was stocked, laundry had been done, and all important meetings were scheduled and printed in large red ink in the calendar. I ended up sleeping with all three kids so I could maximize the cuddles (for my sake) and read many, many bedtime stories that night.
The next morning, I took Devlin to school. We rode our bikes. Upon reaching the school grounds, he quickly put his bike away and ran off to the kindergarten area. "Wait!" I called. "Aren't you going to kiss mommy bye? I won't see you until Friday afternoon!"
He trudged back, reluctantly, and presented his cheek for a quick peck. He squirmed away as I tried to give him a hug. I waved, and he instructed me to leave. "It's okay Mom. You can go now," he said before turning his back on me to partake in an animated conversation with a class mate.
Wow! Really? This is the child who used to cling to my knees, sobbing and crying for me not to leave him when he started junior kindergarten a mere 18 months earlier? This is the child who needed me to physically walk him into the classroom for 3 months? Who forbade me to leave the gate area until he was in the building?
My, how much he's grown!
The girls were more enthusiastic in their farewells although I'm quite sure they didn't understand I wouldn't be home that night, or the next.
And so, I left. I headed off to the conference. There was much learning involved. Also a spa session. A dinner our with other "mom colleagues" who were enjoying a respite from the children. Some wine. Some more late night chats before retiring to our beds for the much anticipated child-free sleep. Alas, the sleep was not the relaxing, nor rejuvenating, session I had imagined. Instead, I tossed and turned because the mattress was so hard with unexplained springs poking me here and there. I was afraid to turn over in case I fell off the single mattress. And yes, I missed my babies snuggling against me, snoring softly. Although it was nice to shower without having to worry about someone little person walking in, yanking aside the shower curtain and asking when you were going to be finished.
The phone calls home were filled with lots "I miss you's" and "when are you coming home?". Or I think that's what I heard. It was difficult to hear with the overwhelming cacophony of chaos (read crying and screaming) in the background. Nonetheless, I missed the craziness of my zoo.
During my drive home, I had mixed feelings about returning. I was already stressed by the pile of laundry that I was sure to greet me when I came in the door, but I was looking forward to sweeping my children into a big bear hug. I envisioned an idealistic homecoming whereupon I would be greeted with open arms by all three children. Devlin was the first to see me. He hugged me with his dusty and dirty arms and presented me with a bucket of maple keys as my "welcome home present". Ceilidh grabbed me in a bone-crushing squeeze and said "I missed you a hundred times" which was nice to hear. Aisling? My baby, who I thought would have missed me the most? She by-passed my open arms and went to investigate the bag of gifts instead.

Tantrums - A Contrast in Styles

My three children have many similarities, but they are also very much their own individual selves. Ceilidh is generally the pleaser, while Devlin expects the world to revolve around him. Aisling is very independent who wants to do things her way.
Even their temper tantrums are marked by their different personalities.
When he doesn't get his way, or he's caught being naughty, Devlin will start to shout and cry. The tears will well up almost instantaneously and he drops onto the ground and sit with his arms folded. He will turn away from you and refuse to calm down. When he was a toddler, he would pull on his ears as he cried. Perhaps that's why he has such large ears?
There are two ways to deal with Devlin's behavioural breakdown. If his misbehaving has led to his crying session, he's led to the the time-out seat (a.k.a. naughty stool) to sob away and remain until he's ready to apologize and behave. If his tantrum is for some unknown reason, or he feels that life is unfair to him, (and I have the energy) I will attempt to soothe his tears, cuddle him and have him explain why he's acting in that manner.
Ceilidh always tries to get her way by asking, begging, pleading her case. She uses the word "please" a lot, and smiles. In fact, she's a cross between Puss in Boots from Shrek (with the big pleading eyes that draw you in) and my sister Shunaha who also used this tactic often. When she's not successful, her lower lip will jut out and she will start whining. When it's obvious her parents are not sympathetic to her cause, Ceilidh will start stamping her feet, growling and with fists clenched, break out into tears. If Devlin is the target of her misery, she will lunge at him and start pinching or attempt to grab him about the neck and take him down. Ceilidh also doesn't like it when we employ the "counting to 5" technique. She starts yelling "don't count!" but still refuses to comply with what was requested.
The naughty stool is not effective with her, as she simply jumps off. We have 2 levels of naughty stools - the kitchen and, the laundry room for serious offences. Once she was banished to the laundry room for her time out. A few minutes later, having calmed herself down, she started to play with her toys, before receiving permission to leave or even apologizing. I generally wait until she's done her crying session before trying to reason with her.
Now Aisling - well that's another story.  Little Miss. Independent wants things done her way. She's very specific. If she wants Daddy to change her diaper, it has to be Daddy. If she wants Mommy to fetch her bottle of milk, it has to be me. If she wants to wear a certain shirt that she's picked out, there's no convincing her that lime green will clash with hot pink. What happens when she doesn't get her way? The battle royale of wills - Aisling vs. mom and dad. If she's not pleased, she starts to cry, which escalates to screaming, all the while she's taking off her clothes. If you attempt to stop her from taking off the shirt or pants, she becomes even more enraged. Yep, Aisling strips down completely, including her diaper. She manages to pull off the diaper and fling it across the room. If you hand her a soother or bottle of milk in a lame attempt at soothing her troubled soul, she'll take it and hurl it back at you. Once completely naked, she will cry and sob until she is spent. Only then, will she come to you, hiccuping from all the crying, and say "sorry" while stroking your face. Once you acknowledge her apology, she will comply with your requests to get dressed and diapered. Once in a while, her bladder will release in the midst of a tantrum. Generally, then, she'll cut her tantrum short, and become very quiet. She will only apologize once the pee has been mopped up and the floor washed. At this point in time, there's no point in trying to divert the tantrum with Aisling. It just gets her worked up even more. So, we watch the strip show and wait for her "sorry". Lecturing to a two year old is just not effective at this stage.