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.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
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.
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".
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.
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.
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