Saturday, December 31, 2011

A moment of pride

Last week, I received a phone call from the school.  There was a feeling of dread as I momentarily hesitated before answering the call. My previous dealings with phone calls from the school have consisted of requests to pick up a sick child or a relaying of a tale of misbehaving on the part of my child.  So it was a wonderfully pleasant surprise to be told that Devlin would be receiving the Student of the Month award at an assembly in two day's time, and that we were more than welcome to attend. Oh, and to please keep it to ourselves as it was to be a surprise for the recipient.
As soon as I got off the phone with the teacher, I called my spouse. After expressing his initial happiness, he asked what Devlin had done to receive the award. A fair question, as his last two math quizzes were disappointing. I hadn't asked, as I had been a bit stunned.
"Let's just revel in the news. Don't question it! It's nice to hear that he's finally 'getting' school," I stated emphatically.
The day of the assembly arrived, and we did our best to act nonchalant as we dropped Ceilidh and Devlin off at school, and then snuck back to enter the gymnasium for the monthly awards assembly.
This particular school recognizes its students' achievements on a monthly basis. There are good citizenship awards, as well as Student of the Month awards for improvements in academics. Every teacher, save for kindergarten, selects one or several students to laud at the assembly. As we sat through the hour long presentation, it did seem like it was an exercise in rewarding mediocrity. Or rather, finding the smallest reason to praise.
And yet, even without knowing why he was being singled out this month, I felt a bubble of pride growing inside of me, and threatening to burst forth in a silly smile. Of course, the grade two class was the last grade to hand out its awards. All the while, I had the camera ready. Finally, the grade two teachers took their position at the front of the gym.
Devlin was awarded Student of the Month for his improvement in writing and learning to work independently. He had a huge toothy grin on his face as he took his spot at the front, after shaking hands with his teacher and the principal. His face was beaming as he proudly held up his award. I think I felt a tear or two cloud my vision.
Way to go, Devlin!

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Eagle-eyed Monkeys

As Christmas Day approaches, I have been busy wrapping gifts whenever I have a spare moment without any little pairs of curious eyes around. One afternoon, while Devlin and Ceilidh were at school and Aisling was napping, I managed to wrap a few items, and decided to put them under the tree instead of back in my hiding spot.
Of course, the kids noticed the addition of the several parcels under the tree. One of which was labelled "To Mia, From Santa". Which created an uproar.
"How come there's a present for Mia from Santa when he hasn't even come by yet?" they demanded.
I had forgotten to read the labels before placing the packages under the tree and also forgotten how skilled at reading Devlin and Ceilidh has become.
I searched my tired and foggy brain for a suitable explanation.
"Well, Mia has been a good little girl all year, so Santa decided to send up some of her gifts with the mailman early. To make his sleigh a little lighter. You three - well, he's still deciding on which list your names appear. So, you've got a few more days to be nice, not naughty," I blathered.
The monkeys appeared to be satisfied and accepting of that excuse.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

The Waiting Game

Sometimes I wish I had opted for the scheduled c-section. Then I wouldn't be in this state of impatience, waiting for the inevitable signs of labour. I would have known well in advance of Baby #4's arrival, made plans for the actual date, and organized my Christmas shopping and baking around it.
Instead, we decided to go with the element of surprise - which totally goes against our Type A personalities. We have no idea whether Baby #4 is a girl or a boy, although all the inmates of the zoo are rooting for a boy. We have no idea when the stork will make its way to our brightly decorated home. Given that all of its siblings arrived before the due date, we are laying odds that Baby #4 will make its appearance before December 30th, but when exactly?! Of course, it this child goes against the established pattern, and comes late, it'll be a tell-tale sign of its stubborn personality - something I'm not looking forward to in the youngest.
So, with no idea of Baby#4's timetable, I have been super-organized mom-to-be, preparing for its arrival and Christmas well in advance. A good portion of the Christmas shopping was accomplished in October and November. Teacher's gifts were prepared two weeks ago. The baking hasn't quite begun but the dough is prepped, in the freezer ready to be rolled out and decorated. The gifts are nearly all wrapped. The suitcase is packed and waiting by the door. The layette is washed and folded away. I have a two month supply of diapers in the closet. All that's missing is the guest of honour.
I am waddling around, unable to sleep, battling heartburn and willing all the Braxton-Hicks contractions to become the real thing. Meanwhile, Baby #4 appears to be content to stretch and kick my ribs while contorting my belly into odd figures that fascinate its siblings who are more eager for Baby's arrival than Santa's impending visit.
So, when are you planning to arrive, Baby #4? We're all eagerly and anxiously awaiting your arrival. (Of course, my discomfort at this stage of the pregnancy has nothing to do with my impatience!)

Playdates - They're not for the kids!

I've been hosting several play dates lately. It seems like every weekend, we have an extra little person running around the house. It may seem crazy to the uninitiated, that I - 9.5 months pregnant and impatient for the arrival of baby #4 - would welcome the presence of another child, not related to me, in my home. But, as I've discovered, with the right age group and the right playmate, the play dates are really for the adults.
When the kids were little, and not yet crawling, these play dates were thinly disguised as mommy get-togethers. An opportunity to chat with an adult about something other than whose turn it was to change the poopy diaper or argue whose turn it was to lug another load of laundry down the stairs. As the babies slept in their car seats or cooed contently, the afternoon meetings were a chance to commiserate over the lack of quality sleep, lack of understanding spouses, and the baby weight that was not coming off as easily as it did for the Hollywood moms. We moms would exchange tips on dealing with diaper, discuss the best places for sales and exchange recipes for quick and easy meals.
As the babies became toddlers and more mobile, playdates became more of a rarity as it was difficult to complete a sentence with another without being interrupted to chase after an overly curious walker or intervene a tug-of-war over a toy. Play dates with pre-schoolers can also be tough with little egos and the fickle quality of children. How quickly "my bestest friend" becomes "she's not the boss of me" and "he won't share!"
But now that my monkeys are a bit older and more capable of entertaining themselves and their friends, I have discovered play dates are a wonderful opportunity to get a some chores done without having to listen to the age old refrain of "I'm bored - I have nothing to do!" On one recent afternoon, I managed to prepare three days' worth of meals and do two loads of laundry while keeping an eye and ear on Ceilidh, Aisling and their two friends. A light snack halfway through the afternoon and popping in a DVD towards the end was all that I was really required to do. And the parents of the playmates scored an unexpected afternoon for early Christmas shopping.
My one rule, generally, for play dates is that only one child gets to host a friend at a time. So one afternoon, Devlin gets to invite a friend. The next weekend, it's Ceilidh's turn. That way, I am definitely insured of a conflict-free afternoon which enables me to get some chores done, and enjoy a coffee while everyone else is occupied.
I would think it's a win-win situation for everyone. The parents of the invitee (who almost always are more than happy to accept on behalf of their child) get a few free hours to themselves, I also get free entertainment for a child, and the kids score an afternoon of fun.
But alas, there are some parents out there who are NOT so cool with an invitation for an afternoon of play fun. One day I received a phone call from a concerned parent who was not happy about the invitation. Apparently, Devlin had invited a classmate over for the weekend. This particular classmate's mother called to say she knew nothing of the invitation until her son told her about it ( I didn't realize I had to issue a formal invite on paper!) and had to get our phone number from another parent. When I asked if there was a problem, she indicated her son was allergic to peanuts. My response was there wouldn't be an issue with that since Devlin is also allergic to peanuts, so we have a peanut-free household. Then came the crux of her hesitation - she was uncomfortable with the idea of letting her "baby go" and that they normally don't do "these things". Whatever. The "baby" is now in grade two and if you don't do play dates, then fine. Although, I distinctly recall this particular "baby" being present at another classmate's home when Devlin went over for a play date. So, I graciously offered her an out. I tactfully suggested she call back the next day to set up a drop-off time, and then I hung up. She never called back, which was fine with me. Then I remembered that this was the same woman who informed me she didn't have an epi-pen for her son with the peanut allergies when Devlin invited him to his birthday party. Talk about negligence! Especially given her concern for her "baby". But since her son really wanted to attend Devlin's birthday party, I had to assure the lady that the party was being held at a nut-free facility, we had peanut allergies in our own family, and we would have an epi-pen on site - just in case!
Other than that unfortunate episode, weekend play dates have been an economical method of providing entertainment for my kids, and given us the chance to assess their friends. The only complaint from our kids have been the clean up of toys afterwards. It seems that some parents haven't taught their kids to help clean up the toys when they're done playing!

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Can adults believe in Santa Claus?

Sometimes, I really wish life was like the movies. The Christmas movies that portray legions of tiny creatures with pointed ears frantically but happily making the toys for all the boys and girls of the world who made it to the "nice" list. If that were so, then I wouldn't be panicking and tearing my hair out trying to locate a Hot Wheels Wall Track kit for my first-born child. It's only December 6th, (18 days before the big DAY) and the toy stores across the GTA have sold out of the hottest must-have item for the year.
I swore to myself that I wouldn't be that mom who had to fulfill their child's Christmas wish list, nor would I be that crazed parent driving from store to store to obtain the much coveted item. In fact, being organized and all, I did actually do most of the Christmas shopping in October. But the kids got to sit on Santa's lap last week at a Christmas dinner event, and whisper their wish list to the jolly fat man in the red suit. And a day later they repeated that list to their grandmother. And once again, when they started to compose their letters for the North Pole. Ceilidh has been asking for a La-la Loopsy Doll, and I have no idea what that is. Aisling wants a Barbie princess doll, and Devlin has been raving about the Hot Wheels Wall Tracks. And every time a commercial for one of those items comes on the television, I am summoned with all sorts of urgency and fanfare to view the desired toys. Since my monkeys were not asking for the entire toy store, and I remembered what it was like to see the Fashion plates I had so desperately wanted under the Christmas tree when I was 8, I decided to see if we could fulfill their Christmas wish list.
So, after seeing the Toys R Us flyer, I spent a lunch hour at the dreaded toy store. I braved the crazed shopping crowd, and was rewarded with a Barbie princess doll at 50% off and a La-la Loopsy doll which was also on sale. (Incidentally, there were several different types of the La-la dolls, I picked the one I think Ceilidh will like. Personally, they looked a bit creepy.) But alas, no Hot Wheels Wall Tracks. All sold out. So I called some other Toys R Us stores. When I asked about the Hot Wheels Wall Tracks, no success. And of course, no one could confirm whether or not there would be more shipments before Christmas.
So, if anyone out there knows where I can get my hands on a Hot Wheels Wall Tracks, please please point me in the right direction. Unless of course, there really are legions of little people with pointed ears toiling away in a workshop up north, making the toys and will drop a set off under our Christmas tress this year?

Friday, November 18, 2011

My Daughter the Fraud Artist!

So, it's that time of the year again - report cards and parent-teacher interviews. Devlin's report card came home and it was what we expected - no major drama this year. Certainly his teacher agreed with our assessment that he needed to spend more time checking over his work for careless mistakes, but he was not struggling with any academic concepts. Her observation that he could get silly at carpet time wasn't a big surprise to us either. What was a pleasant discovery was learning that he got along well with all of his classmates, and there was never any issue with placing Devlin in any group format for group assignments. Given his lack of cooperation at home with his siblings, we were pleased to hear he possessed diplomacy skills at school. It is always disconcerting, though, to hear how entertaining he is with his stories, especially of what occurs at home!
We then hurried off to meet with Ceilidh's teachers. We expected it would be a quick "conference" and that we'd be told Ceilidh was not only adjusting well to senior kindergarten, but that she getting along with her classmates and seemed to be enjoying the year. It started out well with the teacher informing us that Ceilidh is  now a leader in the classroom. For instance, it was her unilateral decision to turn the "pet store" area into a Halloween store. She corralled her lackeys to keep out the junior kindergarten students until she had "re-organized" the store area and then graciously allowed the younger students into the store area. There were other examples of her "leadership" the teachers regaled us with, but we bluntly stated, "so you're telling us she's bossy." Which we see evidence of at home with Aisling. Or at least she tries to command her younger sibling.
But when we brought up her apparent laziness at home to attempt more difficult level of reading, the Early Childhood Educator stopped us mid-sentence to laud Ceilidh's excellent language skills. Particularly her Korean language skills.
"Pardon?" we asked, quite sure we had misunderstood.
"Well, when learned the Autumn Leaves poem, she recited it back for us in Korean! Whoever is teaching her Korean is doing an excellent job!"

Daddy and I looked at each other and started laughing. For one, we don't speak much Korean at home. (Yes, something I've been remiss in, but there's only so many hours in the day.) Ceilidh does know how to count in Korean, thanks to Halmuhnee, and we were also told she had already taught her kindergarten class that skill. Most of our Korean at home is limited to food items, and of course, the word for "dirty", as in "don't touch - it's dirty".

"I think she's pulling you leg," I sputtered in between laughs.

"No, she's very good at Korean!" the ECE insisted.

"No, I an assure you that while she knows some Korean, she certainly doesn't know any poems."

The ECE (who is most definitely not of Korean descent) didn't seem put out that she had been had by a 5 year old. In fact, I got the distinct impression that she believed we didn't think highly of our child. (More on that in another post.)

Well, we returned home and asked Ceilidh to recite Autumn Leaves in Korean for us. Ceilidh looked quite uncomfortable. We insisted on hearing the poem as she had recited in school. She would only whisper it into our ears. It was most definitely NOT Korean. Nor was it any language I recognized.

My 5 year old daughter is a fraud artist. Or she possesses an over-active imagination.

We're going to have to watch her like a hawk once she reaches the teenage years. Or implant a GPS in her.

She also told the teacher that she and her best friend Michaela are part of a reading club which explained their superior reading skills. The ECE wanted to know in which reading program we had Ceilidh enrolled and where it was located. Again, we had to advise the teacher that there was no such club, and Ceilidh was pulling the wool over her eyes.

Like I said, she's got a future as a fraud artist. Or maybe a spy.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Shart? Shark?

When we were expecting Devlin, we watched the movie "Along Came Polly", that starred Ben Stiller, Jennifer Aniston and Philip Seymour Hoffman. It was a comedy romance that provided lots of laughs. One particular scene introduced us to the term "shart", which as one character described as "you think it's a fart, but later you realize it was more than that".
After Devlin arrived, we began to employ that term in earnest for those teeny tiny bowel movements that accompanied the fart but was definitely not a full-fledged poopy diaper.
Recently, Aisling has been experiencing some issues with poop. It may be because of constipation, or it may be part two of an unconscious reaction to the impending arrival of a new sibling.  We've already been through one episode of regression with the poop training. We thought this was a non-issue and a thing of the past. Clearly it's not.
Last night, she announced to her father she had a poop accident.
Daddy checked the underwear, and declared it was "not an accident".

Daddy: This is not an accident. This is you going poop in your underwear. Poop should be in the toilet.
Aisling: No it was an accident.
Daddy: There is no way you can claim this as a shart. It is POOP in the underwear.
Aisling: It's not a shark. It's poop. Sharks live in the water!

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Monday, October 31, 2011

It's About Time!

Finally, having all these kids is paying off. In the form of cheap labour.




Wednesday, October 26, 2011

A different response!

As most parents know, kids have all sorts of disgusting habits.  One of the most disgusting habits that all children indulge in, at one point or another, is nose-picking. Mine are no different.
Each of my monkeys has been caught with a digit stuck in a nostril. Each has responded differently.
Devlin - upon being caught, he would grab a tissue, turn around or duck under the sheets, and furtively continue his mission.
Ceilidh - will simply look sheepish but continue anyways.Then, she'll stick it in her mouth, to everyone's utter disgust. Ewww! (As Aisling once stated, "To her, it's a snack!")

Last night, I caught Aisling in the act.
"Aisling, stop picking your nose!"

Her response?

"I not! I just feeling what's up there."

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Kids and computers

The other day, Ceilidh asked, "When I'm ten years old, will you buy me a phone and a computer?"

Clearly expecting that I would simply agree as I usually do whenever they see a toy commercial on television to keep disagreements to a minimum, she was taken aback when I said "no". (I don't actually buy any of the requested toys, nor do I think the kids really expect us to either. Or maybe they do, and we have a bunch of eternal optimists on our hands.)

"Why not? Everyone else has one."

Deciding not to use the "if everyone jumped off the bridge, would you" approach, I decided to explain why her parents would not be jumping on the electronic gizmo bandwagon.

"Ceilidh, Mommy and Daddy will always get you whatever you need. If you need new clothes, or books, or sports equipment, we will gladly buy it for you. But at ten, or even thirteen, you do not and will not NEED a phone or your own computer," I stated firmly.

She immediately flew into a temper tantrum that involved feet stomping and tears and shouts of "You're not nice and I won't listen to you anymore". That earned her a trip to the naughty stool and a time-out.

Which simply reinforced Mommy's and Daddy's resolve not to purchase the latest computer toy, electronic gizmo, hand-held, battery operated device for their brood of monkeys. It also reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend earlier in the year regarding computer games and whether or not we allowed Devlin to play games on the Internet. We don't, generally speaking.
It's not that we're dinosaurs when it comes to technology. While we may not possess the latest tablet or the newest smart phone, we do know of their existence. In fact, once the contract ends on my current phone, I'm planning on getting a smartphone. We simply don't believe actively encouraging our children to partake in electronic past times. We don't have a Wii (despite Daddy's begging and pleading) or a game system. Devlin does not own a PS2 or DS or whatever. Our philosophy is that our kids get enough exposure to the screen as is, that we don't need to add to it by making their play time revolve around the television or computer. The kids know we have a computer, and Devlin is learning about navigating the web at school. There are a few websites we allow him to access, under our direct supervision. Occasionally, we'll monitor a few games from teletoon.com or barbie.com but it's a rare treat.
Instead of playing chess on the computer, we'd rather the kids learn the basics of the game by playing the board game. It's about learning to take turns too, and not cheating when you play Battleship or Monopoly with your siblings. We'd rather they play with their toys and exercise their imagination instead of having graphic images ingrained into their brains from playing video games. While some proponents may argue that Wii Fit encourages movement, it's not the same as letting the children run outside and jump through piles of leaves.
Computers are all around us. Most of us use them at work or at home on a daily basis. Our laptop sits in the kitchen so I can access the emails and recipes.  There's no avoiding technology in today's world. But we don't need to actively encourage its role in children's lives. Rather than relying on spellcheck, we should be teaching children the basics of phonics. Instead of social networking sites, we need to foster the basics of cooperation, being polite, and what it means to be a "friend" on a day-to-day, face-to-face situation.
More importantly, we need to teach our children that it's okay to be bored sometimes. They need to learn how to entertain themselves WITHOUT a cell phone or miniature game system in their hands. That having an active imagination is an asset. Reading books is becoming a rare past time with many children because of the prevalence of video games. Numerous studies have shown, particularly with boys, that more time spent with video games translated to an exponential decrease in time spent reading books. That's even without taking into account the violence often associated with video games, which opens up a whole other can of worms.
It makes me nutty when I see parents put on the portable DVD player for a quick trip to the grocery store. Really? You can't talk to your child for the 5 minute drive. Or more disturbing, your child needs to be entertained for that short period of time?
So, for all of the above reasons and more (I'm not even getting into the safety aspect of allowing children to access social networking sites), my dear children, do NOT expect an electronic or computer gaming system under the Christmas tree this year.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Rocks, rocks everywhere!

At the beginning of the school year, I took some vacation days so I could take the kids to school and meet their teachers. It's also a great time to purchase school supplies since there's always something I've forgotten.  There's always numerous forms from the school to fill out, lunches to organize, extra-curricular activities to be scheduled and registered into...the list goes on and on.
I took advantage of my time at home to walk the Devlin and Ceilidh to school and pick them up in the afternoon as well. Sometimes we went to the nearby park with Aisling. After a half hour spent climbing the monkey bars and swinging, I would often hear complaints that they were too tired to carry their backpacks home. So I'd shoulder their schoolbags and shepherd them home. Devlin's bag was pretty light, but Ceilidh's was suspiciously heavy. When we arrived home, I discovered why - there were rocks of all sizes in her backpack. Apparently, she had developed a new hobby - rock collecting.
I'd dump the rocks outside, but the next day, she'd find more and bring them home. There were rocks and pebbles in her jacket pockets too. And pants pockets. Soon I was finding tiny stones in our washing machine.
In an effort to dissuade her, Devlin told his sister that she taking school property whenever she removed the rocks from the playground and brought them home. This had no effect on our budding geologist.
Well, it's been a few weeks, but I think that hobby has run its course. Now I'm finding dried out leaves everywhere.

Ceilidh wants a Playdate

Ceilidh has been harassing me to have some friends over for a playdate, specifically a classmate named Michaela. Since I rarely have the opportunity to meet the other moms at the school, I decided to write a short note to Michaela's mother suggesting we get the girls together for a playdate. I included my cell phone number and email address to make it easy for the other mother to get in touch. I instructed Ceilidh to pass the note to Michaela to give to her mother.
A few days went by, and there was no email or phone call. Ceilidh kept asking when Michaela was coming over, or why her mother hadn't called. I had no answer. Ceilidh swore she did give the note to her classmate. Maybe the note got lost in transit. After all, it was written on a square of a post-it. Incidentally, I recalled seeing an article in the Globe and Mail about Mommy business cards to hand out at the parks and school yards. Instead of your credentials and company information, the cards are designed for scheduling playdates with other moms and has all the pertinent contact info and a spot for important details like your kids' likes, dislikes and allergies. I scoffed at the idea when I read the article, but now I see the ingenuity in the Mommy cards.Is it too late to order them?

Well, there was an open house at the school last week. In between admiring the kids' artwork and schoolwork, and chatting with the teachers, we chit-chatted with some of the parents too. One of the mothers asked us if Ceilidh was going to attend her daughter's birthday part. We weren't aware that she had received an invitation and asked Ceilidh where the invite was? In my backpack, was the reply.
In an effort to raise children who will one day become independent and capable adults, we've given our children tasks and responsibilities that are age-appropriate. Like setting the table for dinner, and putting away their dirty dishes in the sink after a meal. Once they start school, they're also tasked with emptying their schoolbags. Letters and handouts from school go onto the kitchen counter where Mommy can read, sign and file away. Lunch bags are also taken into the kitchen. So I rarely check their bags. Especially Ceilidh's since she had picked up a habit of collecting rocks (see related post).

Well, after the open house, I went through Ceilidh's school bag and found not one, but two envelopes. One was the expected birthday invitation, but the other was an invite for a girl's day playdate from several weeks ago!
"Ceilidh! When did you get this?" I asked.
"Oh yeah! Michaela gave me that a long time ago."
"Why didn't you give it to me? You know you're supposed to empty your school bag every night. That's your job!"
"I forgot," was simple response.

Really, there are times my middle child reminds me of my sister Shunaha. The doctor at the Mayo Clinic. The same sister who has also mailed home her return airline ticket and then spent hours looking for it. The same sister who can't locate her glasses - because they're on top of her head.

Well, needless to say, I called Michaela's mom and apologized profusely for not ever responding to the invitation. We've tentatively scheduled another playdate for the girls, but now I'll have to check Ceilidh's backpack at least once a week.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Cheeky monkey!

I had a rough week at work last week. It was busy and stressful. I ended up working a bit late too.
Aisling was missing her mommy. She's been feeling abandoned, since her siblings started school. It's hard for her to comprehend that I'll soon be staying home for a whole year.
As I was getting ready to head out the door, she pleaded again, "Stay home with me Mommy!"
My heart was breaking as I answered, "I'm sorry but I can't today. I have to go to work!" So I can pay for your pretty clothes, the food you eat, your university tuition, the mortgage...I recited to myself in my head as if to convince myself that it was in fact really important to head off to work instead of giving into the temptation of playing hooky with my three year old.
"Can you come home early today?" Aisling asked.
"I'll try. But I don't know because I have some really bad boys to keep in jail today," I answered as I grabbed my purse and coffee mug.
A pause, then, "Is it Devlin?" she asked innocently.

"Well, yes, Devlin has been a bit naughty, but no, not him," I tried to answer with a straight face.

He's growing up!

It's picture day at school. Last night, Devlin decided he wanted to wear a shirt with buttons, his "Cool Kid" button and nice pants. His hair was going to be spiked too. Would that be okay, he wondered. Sure, I agreed.
Then my seven year old boy snuggled into bed with me to read his book assignment for class and the first chapter of Flat Stanley. With only a few hints at some of the words, he did an admirable job. After a cuddle and a kiss for the baby in my tummy, he was off to bed. With his daddy. Somehow the two of them managed to squeeze into the top single bunk.
As a working mom, I rarely have the opportunity to walk my kids to school. On the mornings I do, I find the rush to get them dressed, fed and out the door on time extremely stressful, but the actual walk to the school is refreshing. Ceilidh will be chattering away about a dinosaur bone she found in the schoolyard while Devlin will try his best to convince his sister it's not a REAL dinosaur.
I had an early doctor's appointment this morning. Extra time was needed to spike Devlin's hair to his satisfaction. Ceilidh had to change her top twice. Then her jacket. By the time their shoes were on, it was clear that the 8 minute walk would not be happening. I piled them into the car. They were delighted.
We arrived at school with 3 minutes to spare before the first bell rang. We walked hand-in-hand, all three of us, to the kindergarten gate where Ceilidh was dropped off. First she gave me a kiss, then she wanted a "nose kiss" (a la Eskimo style). Then she grabbed Devlin in a bear hug to say "good-bye". He merely patted her on the shoulder.
Devlin and I then headed to his line-up area. As we rounded the corner, his hand surreptitiously slipped out of mine. Nonchalantly, he waved and said "bye" and hurried away to join his friends.
"Hey, don't I get a kiss?" I asked.
He came back, to put his arm around me, while his head dropped low so that my kiss ended up on his scalp.
"See ya!" he mumbled as he rushed away, trying not to look embarrassed by the display of maternal affection.
Is this the same kid, who three years ago, had to be peeled off my leg in tears as I delivered him to his junior kindergarten class. The kid who cried everyday for two and half months?

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

What's different this time around?

It's Baby #4 and there's not much that's new or different in the world of pregnancies and waiting for the baby's arrival. Aside from the more snazzier strollers with a more expensive price tag, and a video baby monitor, there's not much new in the world of babies. It still take 9.5 months for the baby to cook to term before it makes its appearance (hopefully, Aisling's early arrival notwithstanding), they still come out naked and yelling, they still need to be potty-trained at some point in the future, and their major interests in the early months are sleeping and feeding. With respect to the gestational period, the miracle still hasn't occurred whereby the make partner can carry the fetus, so it's still us women who get big and clumsy over a period of time and then bring forth the child.
So is there anything different about this pregnancy for me? The excitement of Baby #4's siblings as they eagerly await the season of snow, Santa Claus and baby's arrival. When we were expecting Ceilidh, Devlin was only two years old. He really had no concept of what was happening other than Mummy's belly was getting bigger. Although we tried to explain the pending arrival with books and visits with other families with little babies, it was lost on him.  Then one day, he awoke to find Halmuhnee and Habagee in the kitchen and Mommy and Daddy gone to the hospital.  When he was introduced to the new baby, he was less than enthralled and asked to return to the hospital lobby to look at the birds and fish.

He soon learned this small bundle was going to wreak havoc on his life though. There was more sharing of Mommy's attention and time, and the house became noisier. Quickly, he became Daddy's little shadow.

Aisling's early arrival threw us all for a loop.  For one, Mommy was on modified bed rest before Aisling was born. That meant Mommy could no longer lift or carry Ceilidh or Devlin. There were also some days Mommy had to spend at the hospital. So evenings were spent sitting on the hospital bed watching Treehouse. Then once Aisling arrived, she didn't come home with Mommy right away. Aisling had to spend an extra week at the hospital so both Devlin and Ceilidh met and bonded with their new sister in the special care nursery, surrounded by other tiny babies. When Aisling finally arrived home, she was greeted with such delight.

This time, Devlin and Ceilidh are well aware of Mommy's pregnancy and the impending arrival of Baby #4. Even Aisling is excited, although she is impatient at the thought of waiting until winter to meet the baby. While Ceilidh has voiced her desire for a puppy, she has more or less resigned herself to the idea of a new baby instead. All three are rooting for a brother. The ultrasound picture was pored over by all three who wanted to know when, when, when was the baby coming? In the evenings, both Devlin and Aisling enjoy rubbing my belly. Aisling is always asking where the baby's face is so she can kiss that portion of the tummy. She is also very intrigued with my "outie" belly button and tries to push it back in. The other night, Devlin felt the baby's kick against his hand, and his eyes went round with wonderment.
When asked what she will do when the baby comes out, Aisling has declared she will push the stroller. None of the monkeys have volunteered to assist with diaper changes but would like the baby to sleep in the bunk bed with them. While Ceilidh had her heart set on a puppy, I know she will be the one most interested in rocking and singing to the baby since she tends to be a nurturer. Aisling, I fear, will likely rouse the baby with her high volume lullabies.
The discomforts of pregnancy are the same for this baby as they've been for all the others. The stretch marks are appearing and will probably never fade. Every day, I feel a little bit more awkward in my gait. I still hate the diabetic diet I'm on, and lust for freshly baked white bread. But I am enjoying this last pregnancy, revelling in every kick and poke Baby #4 delivers. While I can't wait for this baby to makes its appearance, I am trying to savour this last time I will carry another life inside of me (at least that's the plan). Mostly, I am enjoying watching my other monkeys eagerly anticipate the arrival of their new sibling. I am trying my best to dodge the questions of how baby #4 will come out of me, and how Mommy knew she was having another baby, and instead diverting their attention to another somersault by the baby.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Back to Work Blues

I've been on vacation for two and half weeks. It was hectic and relaxing at the same time.


Now I'm back at work, and not enjoying it at all.

I spent last week getting the kids back into the routine of school. Getting up earlier, packing their lunches, getting the kids out of bed earlier, re-instituting the after-school routines of homework, piano practice, small snack, dinner, playtime, and going to bed earlier. I also spent some time packing away outgrown summer clothing and shoes, purchasing bigger items for the growing munchkins, preparing baked goodies for lunches and mentally preparing myself for the return to work.

I should have known it was a wasted effort when Aisling began to stir at 6a.m. and not letting me leave her side for a work out. I sneaked out of bed at 6:30 to exercise. Twenty minutes later, I heard the not-so-gentle pitter patter of two pairs of feet scrambling around upstairs. After my work out, I entered the living room to witness Ceilidh and Aisling grappling over a Barbie doll, and using their legs to lick and push each other off the couch. There are a gazillion Barbie dolls in the house, and yet both girls had to lay claims to the same one. The whining ensued. Ceilidh was given her standard 3 count warning. She ended up in a time-out before 7:15 am - a record in our household. While she whined and griped even more, I prepared the lunches. Daddy took over the time-out so I could get ready for work. I tried to rouse Devlin before I hit the shower. He was NOT happy. By the time I was getting dressed, I could hear Devlin crying about not going to school. Daddy left, after having no success at calming him down.
I was in the middle of pouring coffee when Aisling decided to start crying. Clinging to my leg, she demanded I stay home. Devlin added to the chorus. Ceilidh, meanwhile having had her attitude adjusted, was eating her breakfast calmly.
It took me an extra seven minutes to soothe Aisling enough so I could detach myself from her, and another 5 minutes to reason with Devlin.
Traffic wasn't too bad. The only positive to my morning.
Then I got to work. It took 25 minutes to clear out the emails. Then I confronted my court list. It's 4:30pm and we're on our afternoon recess. I don't think I'm making it home before 6pm. The girls have gymnastics tonight. There's a pile of laundry to be done.
At least dinner was going to be easy - pizza muffins that Daddy can prepare. I've road-mapped out where the ingredients can be located.
I'm NOT enjoying my first day back at work.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Aisling in the Kitchen!

Aisling loves to help out in the kitchen. On weekend mornings, she assists her dad with grinding the coffee beans and turning on the coffee maker. Or she's stirring up the pancake batter.

She loves to help Mommy with baking - lining the muffin tins with the paper cups, dumping in the ingredients, and licking the bowl.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

To Be or Not...a Tiger Mother

So, I've finally gotten around to reading Amy Chua's Memoirs of a Tiger Mother book. It is interesting, to say in the least. Quite obviously, the media put its own spin on the contents, but I do believe Ms. Chua has some valid points about raising children. Particularly in light of her background as a first generation immigrant confronted with raising competent, competitive, healthy children in mixed race household. I echo many of her concerns and I can see her reasoning. I don't think I'd parent in the extreme manner she chose, though.
In one chapter, she described the conundrum of having to locate pianos while on vacation locales so that her elder daughter wouldn't miss a single day of practising. her younger daughter simply carted the violin onto the planes as carry on luggage. She also regaled the readers with an episode from a Grecian holiday where her parents were eager to check out the ruins with the rest of the family. It was planned, folks were dressed and waiting in the lobby. But alas, the younger daughter had to practise a mere ten minutes of violin. Well, it would have been ten minutes if she had gotten it right the first time. The child didn't, and refused to listen or heed her mother's instructions. Ten minutes stretched to hours and hours of arguing, tears, stubborn stances and a battle of wills. By the time it was over, the ruins were closed and no one came out the triumphantly happy victor.
Wow, I thought to myself as I read that passage. That certainly is NOT my style. For one, vacation is vacation. That means no piano practising. A vacation for bother the music pupil and the parent who has to supervise (me). Secondly, hours and hours of battling a child over one song? Never.
Until last weekend.
It would have taken twenty minutes, maybe thirty at the most, for Devlin to complete his piano practising session. IF all went well. That is, no attitude, no arguments about the number of times a song should be played, and no mistakes. The point of practising a piece numerous times is to ensure the song is eventually done without mistakes. Perfection is the goal. Had my son actually listened and heeded my knowledge of the music (I did indeed take years and years of piano when I was a kid), the practice session would have been done in a matter of minutes. But alas, this was not to be. First of all, there was arguments about the scale. The number of times he had to rehearse the scale. When I pointed out a mistaken note, Devlin's response was to fall onto the keyboard. That earned him a warning about his attitude and behaviour. It didn't get better. Before we moved onto the next piece, he spent some time on time-out spot. Then another round of tears and yelling while I tried to get him to count the beats correctly while synchronizing his right and left hands. "I quit piano" he yelled more than once. More time-outs. And on and on it went. He was threatened that if her didn't improve his behaviour markedly, he would miss his classmate's birthday party that afternoon. Even that didn't trigger a change. Eventually, I left to go grocery shopping, having missed the Farmer's Market.
When I returned from my errands, Devlin was more subdued and waiting at the piano. We completed the practice session a full five hours after it began.
He was allowed to attend the birthday party solely for the purpose of dropping off a gift and explaining why he couldn't stay.
The next day's piano session went by without a hitch.
I wasn't demanding the moon and the stars from him. I was simply requesting a positive attitude. I also know his abilities when it comes to piano. He can sight-read extremely well, and he has the ability to play the piece perfectly. He is also very lazy and prone to wanting to "give up" or rush through a task without the requisite care and attention. I know if I don't nurture the proper attitude now, it'll spell hardship and failures later on in life.
Am I a mean mommy? Or am I parent who simply wants the best for her child, and one who knows her child's abilities and limitations?
Tiger Mother - hear this Tiger Mommy ROAR!

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Helpful Devlin

My son can be very helpful, when he wants to be. He's also susceptible to the messages from the advertising world. For Christmas last year, I received the Slap Chopper from him after he watched a commercial about how much help it would give me in the kitchen.
This year, apparently I am looking old and tired.
After viewing a commercial for hair dye, specifically the Garnier Nutrisse spot that has vivacious models flipping their long and luxurious locks, he suggested, 'I think you should get that Mommy!"

Hmmm....

Monday, August 8, 2011

Sibling Interactions

Growing up with three younger siblings, I've had my share of disagreements, tussles, name-calling, and altercations with my brother and sisters. So has my husband who is one of three. Perhaps that's why we don't react so quickly or strongly to the everyday arguments or differences of opinion that occur on a daily, if not hourly basis at our humble zoo.
We've heard it all:
- he's kicking me;
- she's looking at me;
- he says I don't know but I do know, and I'm right, right?;
- she wants my toy;
- she ate my snack;
- stop interruptin' me, I'm trying to talk;
- why does he get to pick the movie all the time;
- I can't see and she won't move;
- he's sitting in my spot;
- she's pinching me;
- he kicked me;
- it's my turn!

Whatever - we've heard it all, at least once or twice. So, unless someone is bleeding or in danger of being physically hurt, we generally don't get involved right away. After all, nine times out of ten, the issue is resolved within minutes and there's peace and quiet for at least another twenty-five minutes. Do they work it out themselves? Sometimes, but truthfully, it's a matter of outsmarting the other sibling, or moving quickly to nab the object in dispute. Aisling is brilliant at simply plucking the desired toy out of her older siblings' grasp and walking away. Ceilidh is talented at wedging herself into the corner of the couch (a prime piece of real estate in our home - all of one square foot) and wiggling the offending sibling out of the way. Devlin, unfortunately, loses out a lot, having it ingrained in his psyche that he is NEVER to hit his sisters. Oftentimes, he is the one to enlist parental backup in a dispute. My sister Shunaha often did that too.
Last weekend, the monkeys were amusing themselves while the grown-ups enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. All of a sudden, we heard the whine of distress from Aisling. It didn't stop, but continued to increase in volume and urgency. As I prepared to investigate the cause, my younger siblings suggested I stay put, and let them "work it out" as we did when we were growing up.
"It's good for their character to resolve their own disputes," my brother stated.
"Yeah, we worked it out on our own when we were kids," my sister Grace agreed.
"Sure, like how you worked it out with Shunaha? By pulling out handfuls of her hair?" I retorted.
"Yeah, well, she probably deserved it," came the reply.

Then the crying started in earnest. I rushed to see the cause and this is what I saw.

Ceilidh was standing on the couch (a no-no), Devlin was about five feet away on the ground. Aisling was in between, attempting to jump and retrieve the stuffed  monkey. Two of my monkeys, Devlin and Ceilidh, were playing monkey in the middle, with the third monkey, with an actual monkey.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

I know where I stand...

...with my kids.

After 5 days away from my monkeys, I was missing them terribly. Every year, I am required to attend continuing education courses. Now that I am a mom, this week away is anticipated with relish. Imagine, sleeping alone and uninterrupted. Having dinner at an establishment where television sets are not hanging from every wall, crayons on the table are nowhere to be seen, and french fries do not accompany every entree. Nights where one can read a book, uninterrupted.
The reality is of course, that the week away s never as good as it seems. The beds are tiny and uncomfortable. While I may sleeping alone, the sleep is far from restful. The accommodations are far from stellar. The one highlight of the week are the evening meals where we linger over a coffee and dessert with friends. There's also the twinge of guilt from leaving the spouse to deal with everything else on the homefront. Although, in my mate's case, he also had the assistance of the much-loved and much requested Uncle Billy.
By Friday, I was missing my bed, the comforts of home, and mostly my kids. Ever the dutiful and doting mother, I did spend some time shopping for presents too.
When I arrived home, having made the drive in record time, my monkeys were partaking in their afternoon siesta. I quietly unpacked, dealt with some laundry, and waited patiently for the munchkins to awaken.
First Aisling blinked her eyes open, hearing a floor board creak. "Mama? Mama! You're here!" she exclaimed while clamouring off the bed. Devlin and Ceilidh also quickly opened their eyes. Devlin rushed over to give me a hug. Ceilidh?
"What'd you bring me?" were the first words out of her mouth upon catching a glimpse of me.

Ceilidh's First Crush on an ...Older Man!

While Ceilidh has selected certain male playmates to be her special friend at various times, she has mostly stuck to boys around her own age group. But a few weeks ago, she developed her first crush on an older man. Much to her father's dismay.
Both Devlin and Ceilidh attended Vacation Bible School this summer at our church. It was a week filled with learning new songs, making lots of crafts, meeting new friends and partaking in new games. On the last day of Vacation Bible School, the kids were invited to bring swimsuits and towels for "wet day". After picking them up, I asked how "wet day" went. "So much fun!" they enthused. I inquired as to what exactly occurred on "wet day". Devlin described water balloon fights and throwing wet sponges at friends. He was dramatic in relaying how he managed to aim and hit his friend who took a large wet sponge to the side. The story was enthusiastically relayed with actions and sound effects, as only little boys can.
Ceilidh was also eager to tell me how much she also had. I asked if she had hit any of her friends. "No, but I got to hit Brett!" came a suddenly shy response.
"Who's Brett?" I asked, my female instincts or perhaps, it was my mother radar perking up.
"He's one of the leaders, and he has hair like this," she motioned with her hands a mohawk over her head, or hopefully, just a faux-hawk.
Ceilidh's face became pink and a goofy smile overtook her face. When I asked some more questions about Brett, she clammed up and buried her face in my lap.
I switched topics to what songs and cheers they learned that day. While Devlin recited his team's cheer, Ceilidh excitedly relayed not her team's cheer, but the leader's group cheer. Hmmm, wonder where her attention was!
Later that evening, after being clued in by Mommy, Daddy asked Ceilidh about her day at Bible school. Her answer was a simple "good". But when Daddy asked about Brett, she buried her flushed face into my lap once again and refused to answer her father. But not before Daddy caught a glimpse of the goofy grin on his daughter's face.
This same scenario was replayed for Auntie Shunaha on Skype.
Poor Daddy, his little girl is discovering the world of boys.
Luckily for him, Ceilidh's first crush on an older boy also coincided with Aisling stomping around the house, arms crossed, stating emphatically, "I quit boys!" While we're not sure what brought that on, Daddy is certainly not questioning it.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Reno vacation

We're renovating our kitchen. New floors, new cabinets, more cabinets, more storage space, more counter space, new sink - I am incredibly excited. It took me almost two years to come up with the will power to live through the hassles of a renovation, but it's going to be worth it. After months of research, visiting kitchen and home improvement stores, haggling over designs and the budget, trying to schedule and re-schedule the contractors, arguing and communicating our extreme upset with the delivery people, we are going to have a new kitchen soon.
Most folks take a mini-vacation while a kitchen is being renovated. That wasn't a realistic option for us. But we needed to find a live-able solution to the lack of a kitchen, which is a necessity when you have young children. Fortunately, we were able to convince the grandparents to have the monkeys for the worst of the renovations. Our wonderful nanny also agreed to help out the grandparents in Windsor. 
So, the monkeys are having a vacation in Windsor. And mommy and daddy are enjoying a vacation from the kids, albeit in a cramped living room, surrounded by boxes and boxes of kitchen items, eating lots of toast, and enjoying dinners out. We've had the opportunity to sleep in one morning, go shopping at Ikea one evening, attend to minor household repairs on another night, and finally get caught up on Glee.
It's been a pleasant respite from parenthood, but we're ready to be reunited with the rugrats. Daddy more so than Mommy. It's been tough on Daddy not being able to even chat over the phone with his darling tots. The first session of Skype ended badly with Aisling sobbing for Mama all evening. Even Devlin who was teary-eyed when we left was crying. Ceilidh didn't seem to be bothered by our absence though. I think that bothered Daddy the most - that he wasn't first and foremost on her mind. Grandma suggested, or rather directed, that there were to be no more communication with the kids since it upset them even more. Grandma did report on a daily basis, though, that the troops were thriving. They were eating well, even consuming almost two pints of strawberries in one sitting. There was lots of hours spent at the park and on their bikes. The children were learning Korean from Grandma too. In fact, the kids were doing so well, I was tempted to leave them in Windsor longer. An idea quickly shot down by Daddy who missed being greeted at the door by his adoring fans.
Our kitchen is coming together quickly. New floors have been put in. The cabinets arrived and they're being installed now. By the end of next week, we'll have all the cabinets in. Hopefully, we'll be able to move the stove and fridges back in too. The countertop will be the last to arrive. In the meantime, we're heading to Windsor to relieve the grandparents and Uncle Billy.
Did I miss my rugrats? While I enjoyed uninterrupted sleep, and the opportunity to read a book or two in peace and quiet, I know I did miss the following:
- being greeted at the door by a little girl dressed in a princess gown and tiara
- having to read "Barbie: a Fairy Secret" every night
- having a new installment of a comic book to read, one created by our budding comic writer, Devlin
- having a little body snuggle up to me in bed, and mostly,
- being showered with kisses

Friday, June 24, 2011

Another milestone

Okay, in the grand scheme of life, it's a very minor milestone. But for a mom who's had to forgo her own ice cream longing for the past how many years, it's huge. Aisling is finally able to (almost) finish her own kiddie scoop of ice cream without any help from a parent. No more wrestling a soon-to-be soggy cone from a protesting child to quickly lick up the drips and dribbles. No more swooping down to wipe sticky melted ice cream from chins and shirts and knees and seatbelts. No more having to finish the soggy, half melted scoop of plain vanilla ice cream (her favorite and only selection she ever makes) once she claimed she was "full". Only to be met with upset cries when she's hungry for ice cweam a few minutes later and it's disappeared into Mommy's belly.
Last night, Aisling nearly finished her first ice cream cone of the summer. There were minimal drips (compared to years past), and only two napkins required, as opposed to the usual fistful. And Mommy was able to enjoy a cone of pralines and cream! I guess I better enjoy this while it lasts. In another year or two, I'll be back to licking up the drips and dribbles of plain vanilla and finishing off the soggy mess after Baby #4 declares himself or herself full.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Here we grow again!

A few months after Aisling entered into our lives, Devlin began to draw pictures of his family. There would be Daddy, Ceilidh, a little creature that was supposed to be Aisling, himself and Mommy with a big tummy and a scribble on the tummy. Whenever he was asked about the big tummy on Mommy, he's explain it was a baby in Mommy's tummy. But the baby's out now, and it's Aisling, we'd all point out. "No, it's the other baby. I want a baby brother!" he'd declare as is it was that easy to order a new sibling.
When it was clear there was no other baby in Mommy's tummy (and I thought I had done a good job at losing the baby weight!), he let go of the baby brother idea for awhile. But every once in awhile, he'd ask about a baby brother and his intentions of naming the baby George. When our former nanny was expecting, he wanted to know if it was a boy. Turned out to be a girl.
Then Auntie Shunaha announced she was pregnant. "A baby boy?" Devlin asked hopefully. No one knew until Mia made her arrival. He was disappointed, but declared Baby Mia was still a cute baby.
Well Devlin, you may have a chance at getting a baby brother after all. In December. Yep - we're expanding our zoo's population by one. We won't know if baby will be a boy or girl until its arrival, but it's safe to say the rest of the gang is hoping for a male gender.
Ceilidh initially requested a sister, but has apparently been convinced to change her vote to a brother. Aisling has declared she would like a baby brother but one that looks like her. There's a good chance of that.
Devlin is of two minds now. Initially, when told of the expected arrival, he announced he wanted a brother so that he wouldn't be lonely. (Daddy seconded that.) Now after some careful consideration upon being told there was no guarantee of a brother, he said that he was okay with a sister, "...because then I'd be the only boy and I'll be special, just like Uncle Billy!" (To which, Auntie Grace and Auntie Shunaha rolled their eyes.)
So come December, we'll be welcoming a new addition to our family! Boy or girl, it won't matter, so long as baby is healthy.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Soccer and First love?

This summer, we decided to enroll all three kids in a new soccer league. We decided to try a different league since the league the kids were in last year was unorganized. So far, we haven't been impressed with our choice. Neither are many other parents who decided to try this league for the very same reason. The only plus is that all three kids have games on the same night, which eliminates having to venture out two or three nights in a row.
Aside from the extreme disorganization of the league, the lack of communication from the league to the parents and coaches, the lack of responses from the league regarding any complaints, what has me really peeved is the league decision to use referees in the games. In games for three year olds. Yep. And the league insistence on practising certain drills, when kids at 3, 4, 5, even 6 just want to kick the ball and chase the ball around the field. the children are too young to grasp any concept of rules or positions on the field. It should be having fun, and getting the kids moving on the field. And at three years of age, let's just get the kids comfortable with following some simple instructions, like "put your foot on the ball", or "run and kick the ball". 
 Mostly, the three year olds are only interested in holding onto or kicking their balls - the ones that have their names on them, and finding out what the week's snack is. There's not too much interest in taking part in the stretching circle or waiting for the ref to blow the whistle. It's a bit frustrating for the parents who are told to stay off the fields when they could running alongside their toddlers shouting encouragements and directions.
(And that's just my complaints on the three year old's games! Never mind what I have to say about the older kids.)
Anyways, it's for the kids. The important thing is that they're taking part in a physical activity that's also an organized sport. They're being introduced to the concept of team sports and working together. Although, the five year olds and six year olds should get more drills on passing to their teammates, if you know what I mean.
Last night, I was on the sidelines, shouting to Aisling to run after the ball. "Chase the ball! Look for the ball! Go get it!" I yelled. Meanwhile, she stood there, her hair in braided pigtails, clad in a too big blue soccer jersey, shorts that went over knees, and black socks that went past her knees and pink running shoes (no cleats small enough for her feet), smiling and waving at me, and advising her teammates that the silly woman yelling on the sidelines was her mommy. All of a sudden, a little blond boy from the other team spied Aisling. There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he strode towards her purposefully. Without a warning, he got up close to Aisling, grabbed her face and dove in for a kiss! Aisling gave him a disgusted look, pushed him away and started to run off. Not towards the ball. The little blond boy took off after her. Whenever they were on the field together, Aisling was busy keeping her distance away from him, and not chasing after the ball.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Is she or isn't she...sick?

Ceilidh woke up this morning smiling. Within a half hour, she declared that she didn't want to go to school. When pressed for a reason, she claimed her tummy was bothering her.
My gut reaction was to ignore her complaints and urge her to get dressed. I followed that instinct. Rather than grudgingly heading up the stairs, Ceilidh slumped her shoulders and whimpered again that her tummy was sore and she was too sick for school.
Felt her forehead  - no fever.
Quickly replayed yesterday's conversations in my head - nothing unusual came to mind about any disagreements with classmates.
I decided she was faking it, and laid down the law. If she was truly sick and couldn't go to school, there would be no tv and no playing since she would be too sick for those activities. And, she'd have to take some medicine. Ceilidh HATES medicine. Even when she's burning up with a 103 degree fever, she refuses to take even a sip of Tylenol. It takes two parents, lots of coaxing and pleading to get a dose of any medication down her throat.
I figured faced with those consequences, Ceilidh would give up the fake illness and get ready for school. Instead, she balked a bit and then gamely opened her mouth for the Tylenol.
Maybe she really is not feeling well. There was a bug going around the kindergarten classes last week, after all. But she was fine all weekend.
It's not like I have the conundrum of scrambling for child care or calling in sick myself to care for a sick kid. We're fortunate that was have a nanny. But I don't want my kids thinking every little tummy ache will buy them a day home from school. So, I again debated whether or not I should force her to get ready for school. It is only junior kindergarten. Missing one day won't affect her overall education. But then again, do I want set a precedent for minor tummy aches or, really a grumpy kid? What to do?
I compromised. I let her stay home for the morning, and instructed the nanny to bring her to school for the afternoon if she really was faking it.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Mommy got an A!

We finally convinced Devlin to "interview" his Auntie Shunaha about her job for his community helper project. He did, asking questions about her training, the tools of her trade, why she does the job. With some prodding by mom, of course.
Then Mommy and Devlin pored over magazines and cut out pictures pregnant women, stethoscopes, scenes from a hospital operating room, newborn babies. These were mounted with lots of scotch tape to a poster, along with texts relating facets of Auntie Shunaha's job as an obstetrician-gynaecologist. We even located an ultrasound image of Aisling and mounted that, carefully encased in plastic.
Then we spent many hours practising his "speech", or presentation.
Sent him off to school, with nervous anticipation. Like it was my own handiwork that was to be judged.
Asked him how it went. "Okay," he said nonchalantly.
Did the classmates have any questions? Not really, according to him, who was more interested in flipping through the newest Chickadee magazine.
This week, his community helper project marks came home. Glowing comments. He attained a level 4 - which is more or less an A. I felt the relief and satisfaction I had experienced when I was in school and aced a test or assignment. As if I had done this assignment myself! Wait - I did, in a way.

Devlin's progression

So, in the middle of the school year, I remember asking Devlin's teacher about what level he should be reading by the end of the school year. There were books categorized into levels from A to G. At the time, he was at level B. The teacher indicated level G. I had my work cut out for me as a parent. I sent notes to the teacher asking for more challenging levels, and she was slow to respond.
Then came the substitute teacher who as taking over as his regular teacher went on maternity leave. The new teacher understood the need to challenge Devlin to keep him from getting bored. Whenever I asked for my challenging books, they were sent home. As of yesterday, he's comfortably reading the level G books. There's the odd word that he balks at, or gets lazy when he's told to sound it out, but he's doing it! I am so proud of of him!

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Lady Gaga!

After a visit to the bathroom, Aisling was prancing around naked the other day.
Daddy was chasing her around the house in a vain attempt to wrestle her into clothes.

"Come here Lady Godvia!" he called out. "Let's get you dressed!"

She stopped in her tracks, and then skipped back to her daddy.

Beaming, she asked, "Did you call me Lady Gaga? I'm Lady Gaga!"

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Calling 911!

Of course it happens to everyone who has kids, yet no one actually 'fesses up to it.  Co-sleeping? Bribing children to behave? Empty threats? No, I'm referring to the kids calling 911 resulting in red-faced parents having to apologize to the busy police officers who have to come to the house to ensure there really was no "emergency".
Yep, my kids did it. On the May long weekend, at the cottage. The monkeys were playing some imaginary game, involving super heroes, enemies and monsters. I vaguely overheard some mentioning by one munchkin that 9-9-1 was going to be called. Dismissed it, as I hear such rumblings on a daily basis when they're playing.
Then there was a call to the house.
It was the 911 operator wanting to know the nature of the emergency. Mortified realization dawned on us, quickly followed by anger as we parents realized that in fact, one of the monkeys did in fact accurately dialed the numbers.
Despite reassuring the operator that there was NO emergency and no one was in peril (other than some kids who were going to get IT from their parents), a squad car was to be sent to the home to clear the call.
While we waited for the arrival of the police officer, Ceilidh and Devlin both received a stern lecture. So stern, that by the time the police did arrive, they were quite shaken. When I marched them out to apologize to the police, it was obvious to the officer that they now knew those three numbers were to be used only in the event of a real danger - fire, lots of blood and no adult around, and the like.
Yeah, it happens when you have kids. But what are the chances that it happens twice? Yep. Ceilidh once dialed 911 when she was 18 months old. Completely at random, while she playing with the phone. We've since replaced the phones in our homes with the complicated ones that require you to press "send" after dialing a number to reduce the chances the kids will accidentally dial 911 once again.

What's Their Job?

Devlin's class is embarking on a chapter about community helpers. It's a nicer word for working people. The class is learning about different kids of jobs adults have in the community. In fact, I have the honour of attending Devlin's class to explain about my job as a lawyer. He's very excited about it, and apparently has been telling the class that his mommy is a lawyer and goes to court. When asked what his dad did, Devlin's was a little fuzzy on the details. Basically, as he explained it, his Daddy worked in a big tall building in Toronto and the best part is - "you get to take the GO train" to the job.
One of their assignments is to interview a community helper and prepare a presentation for the class. I suggested he interview his Auntie Shunaha and Uncle Nowell who are both medical doctors. After I had explained that while nurses work with doctors, nurses are not doctors. More like their helpers, or "sidekicks" as Devlin declared. Like Robin to Batman.

Well, he thought about my suggestion, but then decided he'd rather interview his grandparents (who are retired). What's their job, I asked in puzzlement.
"They sing at church!" Devlin answered, referring to their weekly choir activities.

When I told the grandparents, they wryly declared they were now minstrels in the eyes of their adoring grandson.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Baby Smooth Skin

There's nothing more softer than the skin of a newborn. Of course, the delicious smell that accompanies the soft texture adds to the appeal. There's something so satisfying about burying one's nose in the folds of a baby's neck and savouring all the yummy sensations.
I think, partly in an effort to preserve that moment of innocent delight, we adults slather on all sorts of lotions and sunscreens to protect the skin of our children. Our own monkeys are prone to eczema so they've always had thick rich lotions slapped onto their bodies from day one. Since it's a nightly ritual, they're getting used to applying the lotion on themselves. In particular, there's Aisling who spends much time and effort rubbing gobs of lotion onto her protruding belly. It reminds me of basting a holiday turkey. At least she's applying it to her body these days. One afternoon, I unwisely left her alone for a few minutes. She managed to unscrew the lid to my cranberry scented body butter and empty the ENTIRE jar onto her arms, her face, her hair and the bed sheets.
Last night, I found Aisling laboriously rubbing my night cream into her face after the bath. Asked what she was doing, she said "putting on cream". This episode triggered another one from my memory bank. When Devlin was about three or so, I realized my not-so-cheap Clinique facial moisturizer was mysteriously depleting at a faster rate than I was using it. Until I discovered the cause. In an attempt to be independent, Devlin was applying his lotion after his bath. My yellow facial lotion, all over his body!
Also in an attempt to prevent freckles, we try to remember to apply sunscreen to the children in warmer months and slap on hats. Lately though, Devlin has resisted this, stating he wants freckles too, "just like Mommy".

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Mother's Day

A few weeks ago, I came across a mommy blog rallying all moms to take up the tea pot challenge. What? For moms to find the time in the day to enjoy an entire pot of tea, its contents consumed while still hot without having to re-heat in a microwave. To read the newspaper while sipping, and without being disturbed. While drinking tea isn't my cup of tea (pardon the pun), I wouldn't mind trying to enjoy a steaming mug of fresh-brewed coffee while flipping through a magazine without being disturbed. Perhaps that would be an ideal Mother's Day gift.
Forget the breakfast in bed, because I'd cringe at the thought of cleaning up the crisis in the kitchen that's left after such an endeavour. Same goes for dinner made by the husband and kids, because I'd have to do the grocery shopping for the ingredients, and likely clean up after.
I'd just be happy to have a few hours to myself. To read a smutty novel, do the cross word in peace, soak in the tub by myself without little toys floating around and a child or two splashing about. A quiet hour to nap on the couch without listening to a Barbie movie , or worse, the explosions of a superhero movie in the background.
An afternoon to sit and do nothing. A few hours to NOT do the laundry or sort old clothes and holey socks or make sure homework is done or supervise a piano practice session or stare at old stains in carpet and wonder how to get them out. A few hours to sit and NOT take stock of the fridge and pantry and plan the week's dinners.
That would probably be impossible though. In reality, when moms with too few hours to themselves do get some free time thrown into their laps unexpectedly, we don't rush to the spa to get a pedicure or mosey down to Starbucks for a latte. We don't throw ourselves on the couch and channel surf.
Instead, we use those precious minutes to finally organize the plastic storage containers and lids. We put away winter clothes and boots (even though it's now summer), and make a mental list of what's needed for the next season. We clean out the fridge and re-stock the pantry. We decide to dust the bookshelves and sort through the toy bin, while throwing another load into the washing machine. We bake a batch of cookies while re-heating our coffee for the third time that day.
For Mother's Day, we moms should challenge ourselves to sit back and do nothing but sip a cup of tea or coffee. My May 8th will be likely be spent being smothered with kisses and being presented with handmade cards. Even if I had an afternoon to myself, I'd probably miss the chaos and mayhem and start on the list of never-ending chores to fill the silence. But maybe, I'll find a half hour to savour a cup of coffee.

Friday, April 29, 2011

Easter Smiles







It was a successful Easter if one was to judge by the amount of chocolate consumed by the three monkeys. But as always, there were several moments that brought smiles and laughs to the adults as well.

When Devlin and Ceilidh woke up to find filled Easter baskets on the kitchen table, alongside the not-yet-hidden eggs, the following conversation was overheard:
"Look, the Easter bunny came and coloured the eggs we made!"
"But he forgot to hide them! Will he come back? Even though it's raining?" wondered Ceilidh.
"Well, he'll have to use the 'brella to come and hide the eggs," stated Aisling.

At church, upon discovering that communion was to be part of the Easter service, Aisling ran into the sanctuary, and exclaimed in that oh-so-loud voice that carries, "Uncle Billy! Uncle Billy, we're having bread and grape juice!"

And later, when depositing her offering into the offering plate, Aisling made sure that only one of her two quarters went in.



Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Miss. Smarty Pants

The parenting experts suggest involving your child in grocery shopping to overcome food pickiness. The idea being if the child participates in selecting food items and menu planning, they will be more motivated to try a variety of foods. I don't allow my children to participate in planning our dinner menus because the meals would consist of the following - fries, fries, and hot dogs.
I do however bring the kids to the grocery store. Certainly, we've practised math skills while counting out peppers or apples in the produce section. Once in a blue moon, we've had the children express their desire to taste an exotic fruit or a hankering for some other food item. Keeping in mind the parenting experts' advice, I oblige.
But mostly, I bring along the kids to the grocery store to give their memory skills a run. Ceilidh usually accompanies me on the weekly outings to Costco. I will recite a list of needed items and have her repeat them while we are shopping.
Last week, I said to her, "Ceilidh, don't forget to remind Mommy we need to buy juice boxes too."

"Okay," she replies.

After a moment, she adds, "Mommy? Maybe you should make a list!"

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Enterprising Artist

Devlin has discovered a new passion - creating superhero comic books. He can spend hours drawing the characters, writing the storyline and stapling together his masterpieces. Since he stumbled upon this hobby, he has created comic books for each of his grandparents and mailed them out. He drew a comic book about Flash for Mommy (because I like Flash) and one of Spiderman for Daddy, since he knows Spiderman is Daddy's favorite superhero.
He is currently working on a story line involving Green Lantern. Usually, he is very proud of his work and when he bestows the final product on a chosen recipient, it is with great honour that this literary work is received. You see, Devlin's creations are one of a kind, and he also commissions each piece with the recipient in mind. 
Today, Daddy discovered that Devlin has come to the realization that one's passion and talent can also earn a living, or at least some pocket change.
Devlin had spent the afternoon laboriously working on another comic book. He wouldn't let anyone actually see his work until it was finished. Then he showed it to his father.

"It's a book about Spiderman! Do you like it, Daddy?"

Daddy replied enthusiastically that he did indeed.

"Do you want it?"

Daddy agreed that he did want another one of Devlin's original works for his collection.

"That'll be two dollars please!"

Hustled by his own six year old!

Easter Business

I received a good reality check this morning from my kids. I now know I have been remiss in teaching my children about the basic fundamentals of our faith. I was immensely proud of the fact that all three can recite the Lord's Prayer but this morning's discussion left me with no illusions that even weekly Sunday School has any great influence over the increasingly secular world my children live in.

On the short drive to church this morning, I reminded the children that it was Palm Sunday. "Yes, we know, we get to wave palms today!" they replied.
I asked if they understood what was special about Palm Sunday and proceeded to tell them about Jesus riding on a donkey. That much they did know. But when I questioned them about next weekend's significance, I was in for a surprise.

Mommy: Do you know Friday is called Good Friday?
Devlin: I know. It's Good Friday because we have no school that day, and Monday is also a day off. That's why it's Good.
Mommy: No, it's not Good Friday because you get the day off of school. It's called Good Friday because...
Ceilidh: Oh I know. It's Good Friday because the Easter Bunny comes after with candy and chocolate!
Aisling: Yeah, chocolate.

If they weren't so earnest in their explanations, I would have thought they were pulling my leg. As it was, Daddy and I spent the next five minutes providing a Reader's Digest version of the Easter story.

The next difficult question was, "What do you mean he died for us?"

Thankfully we had pulled into the church parking lot before my kids could figure out that Jesus' death on the cross would earn them a "get out of jail free" card every time with God.
 

Friday, March 25, 2011

My Darling Ceilidh

Sometimes I am bewildered by the fact that I am Ceilidh's mother. When I gaze upon Devlin and Aisling, I do see glimpses of myself in them, both literally and figuratively. But I observe my middle child, I often wonder if she really is mine. For starters, I am not a "girly" girl, but Ceilidh is all female. She loves the colour pink. Reds and purples are a close second. She would prefer to wear dresses - long dresses - and don tights. When asked to brush her hair, she does so while looking at herself in the mirror. Her strokes are long and even as she combs out the tangles in her hair. Afterwards, she'll preen in front of the mirror.
When asked to sing a song, her voice is clear and melodious. Her colouring and printing meticulous. One day, I was asked to admire Devlin's art work. Ceilidh pointed out it was scribbling and messy, compared to hers.
She enjoys playing "teacher" to her group of students - Devlin and Aisling.
"Sit down and let's learn the numbers! I'm only going to pick someone who's quiet!" she admonishes as she holds a marker to the dry-erase board while instructing her siblings to sit on the floor.
At Devlin's hockey games, Aisling enthusiastically cheers on her brother. Ceilidh, meanwhile spends the game playing with her dolls or rolling out a tub of playdoh. She distracts our attention away from the action on the ice to display her latest play-doh creations. We tried to coax her into playing hockey next year. We even tried to tempt her with pink hockey skates and a pink hockey stick.  She refused. Aisling, on the other hand, begged to be "put into hockey when I'm older".
Should we have been surprised with Ceilidh's disinterest? Not really. This is the same girl who doesn't like soccer because it makes her sweaty when she runs up and down the field.
The other day after our spring snow storm, Devlin and Aisling, clad in their snowsuits, were frolicking in the snow while "helping" Daddy shovel the driveway. Ceilidh watched from the cozy confines of the home. When asked if she planned to join the fun, she demurred, stating it was too cold and wet.
Sometimes I wonder if being the middle child makes her exceptionally lazy. Or perhaps, Ceilidh was mistakenly placed with us when she is truly a member of a royal family. The world is to be at her service. She is the worst when it comes to picking up her toys. While her siblings make quick work of putting away their toys, Ceilidh will put on an Oscar worthy performance of picking up a small plaything and dropping it into the appropriate bucket. Rarely does she pick out her own clothes and gets dressed. Nine times out of ten, Ceilidh needs to have someone clothe her in the mornings. Aisling is well versed at selecting her outfits and coming down to breakfast all dressed, on her own. Mealtimes are especially frustrating. Aside from her pickiness and refusing to even consider a vegetable other than cucumber slices, Ceilidh expects to be spoon fed. She will open her mouth willingly  - like a baby bird waiting for her meal - so long as it's not her own hand holding the spoon or fork. The only times I have seen Ceilidh consume vast quantities of food is when her doting grandmother is visiting, since Halmuhnee has the patience to spoon feed a nearly five year old child. Although, if the food item is bacon, Ceilidh doesn't require any assistance. It's her favorite food group.
Ceilidh is already displaying that she is the nurturer. Unless she is the cause, she will attempt to soothe Aisling's crying over a boo-boo by hugging her and saying "it's okay" in a calm tone. When I was feeling under the weather after having spent two sleepless nights with an ailing Aisling, Ceilidh snuck into the bedroom, carefully tucked the blankets around me, and kissed me gently on the forehead.
What really stuns me is how gorgeous Ceilidh is. She has big eyes, creamy skin with just a hint of light freckles, and a brilliant smile that reveals dimples. When she's feeling particularly gleeful, Ceilidh will cuddle up and hug your arm with a death-like grip while impishly looking at you. I gaze upon her, and wonder how it is possible that I could be her mother. She looks nothing like me, and the only personality trait she has appeared to have inherited is her extreme stubborn streak. While all parents find their off-spring beautiful, I often find my breath taken away by Ceilidh. Surely, she couldn't be my progeny, I think in disbelief. The moment lasts until, we have another full-on meltdown - with foot stamping, shrieking at top volume, fists clenched, tears running down her cheeks.