Mommy doesn't get it!

Last week, I seized upon rare (these days) opportunity to pick up the kids from school. Both Ceilidh and Devlin were happy to see me waiting on the tarmac with their baby brother in the stroller. Aisling sped out the door to give me a big hug. After dealing with some whining about having to wear jackets, it was homeward bound, with promises of television once homework and piano practising was completed, and a cookie treat before homework.
The trek home was chaotic and noisy as usual. All three chattered about their day, at the same time. Whoever was the loudest got heard of course. Perhaps that's why Aisling does NOT have an indoor voice. First I heard about Aisling's big day at school. It was her birthday, and her class mates sang "Happy Birthday" and she received a special birthday sticker, but it got ripped, so she threw it in the garbage. Then Devlin said his day at school was "okay" and that they didn't "learn much". I was also informed that he lost his free time on Friday afternoon for "no good reason". Well, actually, because someone blamed him and his friend for a girl falling down earlier in the week, but he hadn't been questioned about it, and was unable to explain that it wasn't him, that he was nowhere near where the incident had occurred, and that it couldn't have possibly been him. (Kind of sound like the Toronto mayor Rob Ford!") When I asked why there was no note from the teacher, Devlin decided to hang back and walk with a classmate. Convenient.
Then it was Ceilidh's turn to chat about her day. Here went the conversation:
C: Devlin pushed me at the end of recess and I fell.
M: He pushed you?
C: For no reason.
M: Did you tell the teacher?
C: No, it was end of recess.
M: What was happening before he pushed you?
C: Nothing.
M:Nothing at all? I'll have to get Devlin's explanation.
C: Well, my friend Aleena and I were tickling him, and then he pushed me really hard.
M: Why were you tickling him?
C: I wasn't. My friend Aleena was.
M: Did he ask you to stop bothering him?
C: I wasn't bothering him. My friend and I were practising our gymnastics, and he came over and stepped on my hand. See? (showing me non-existent injury)
M: I thought you said you were tickling him?
C: No at last recess.
M: Then when did the gymnastics incident happen?
C: Not Devlin - some other boy stepped on my hand.
M: (wishing my cross-examination skills would produce such results great results in court) Which boy? When?
C: At the other recess, and I only tickled Devlin because my friend did it too. And his friends were mean to me!
M: Wait, I thought you said you didn't tickle. Which is it?
C: AAARGH! You don't understand my kid life!!!! (throwing her hands up in frustration and stomping away)

I never did figure out if there was a push, as Devlin denied it categorically. There might have been some tickling or at least, some pursuit by Ceilidh and her friend, but not sure at which recess. And gymnastics? When questioned further, it was gym class!

On Mother's Day...

Most of us Moms would love some time to ourselves, right? Breakfast in my bed is a nice idea. Likewise the flowers. As is a gift certificate to a spa. A day free of chores would be nice. Or simply some time to ourselves. To do whatever. To read a book, browse the stores, savour a cup of coffee, flip through a magazine.
Me? Well, I got breakfast (but not in bed), flowers and ...a day to spend with my kids.
As Ceilidh declared the other day, on Mother's Day, you have to spend the day with your kids because that's what being a mother is about.So, then I guess every day is Mother's Day. And with that...enjoy the day with the kids, the ones that gave us the label of "Mom".

Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day, and a time to reflect on how much we appreciate our mothers, and mother figures in our lives. Now that I'm a mother, I truly do appreciate my own mom, and my grandmother (who passed away almost 5 years ago) and all that they did, and still do, for my siblings, for me, for my children. Being a mom is darn hard work. There's never an easy day. There's never a day off. There's not a moment's rest. (Even when I attempt to have five minutes of peace and relaxation in a bubble bath, there's a often a child or two who comes up to join before long.) And most of the time, much of our efforts go unnoticed.
Or so I thought...
It's been a rough week with Aisling. I swear my kids tag team each other on who will be the naughty child for the day or week. Aisling got tagged. She has been extremely difficult, between not eating dinner, to talking back, to not participating in dance class. Never mind the efforts to get her to use an "indoor" voice. That's not to say that Devlin and Ceilidh have been absolute angels either. There was the incident with the garden hose with Devlin. Ceilidh stomping around about something. Quinn is also starting to get in on the action. His latest? Throwing himself on the ground and cry to protest being brought indoors.
Like I said, it's been a not-so-quite calm time in our zoo.
At one point, over the din of the crying/screaming/whining, my ever faithful partner in this asylum stated, "You and I need a vacation, away from the kids!"
"Hah!" I answered. "Like they'd let us out of this place!"
Well, that started a whole other commotion.
Aisling wanted to know who would pack her lunch? Make her cheese sandwiches and put cookies in her lunch bag?
Aisling then wanted to know who would prepare her breakfast? I stated Devlin could, since he's started preparing breakfast for himself and his sister Ceilidh lately. (It's only toast, so let's not get too excited.)
Devlin protested he couldn't pour the milk. So we volunteered Ceilidh for that job.
Well, who would take care of Quinn?  Who would change Quinn's diapers? We told Devlin he'd have to learn, and he wasn't on board with that idea. Devlin also quite astutely pointed out he could not breastfeed his baby brother, so there was no way his mother could leave.
Ceilidh quietly took in this scene, saw the panic on her siblings' faces and loudly declared, "I'm making a new rule - NO ONE is going on vacation. That means, Mommy and Daddy can't leave us!"

So, maybe our kids do appreciate the little jobs we mothers and fathers do for our offspring. Maybe they do understand the sacrifices we make on a daily basis. Like, instead of watching television, we are chauffering them to dance, hockey, Cubs, and the like. Instead of going to bed, we're baking a batch of muffins to pack into their lunch box. Instead of getting caught up on the news, we're loading up the washing maching with yet another load, while signing permission slips and wracking our tired brains for a suitable (acceptable to picky palates) meal the next day. Do they appreciate that I spend my lunch hours at work running around the stores to pick up twisty cheese, birthday party gifts, and pyjama pants?

Maybe? One can only hope.

Oh well, at the end of the day, it's the big hugs and cuddles and declaration of undying love from our monkeys that make it all worthwhile.

Drinking thine image with my eyes

I've seen that phrase before, here and there, and had some vague notion of what it meant. Sort of like feasting one's eyes upon a desirable object.
And now I really "get" what it means. It's what happens, every evening when I walk in the door upon my return from the working world (or make that the "paid" working world), and I cast my eyes about, searching for and locating my youngest. Whatever he's doing, whereever he is, I will stop and gaze upon his tiny, energetic body as he either runs to me excitedly, or sits upon the lowest stair and jabber on in his nonsensical syllables. He may be at the sliding door to the backyard, watching his older siblings, or throwing a tantrum on the kitchen floor because he's been taken away from his beloved game of hockey. It doesn't matter to me. I am content to watch him, and fill my mental video card with images of him. As I drink in the sight of Quinn, I feel the stresses of the work day (that is, paid work day) and the frustrations of the commute home melt away.  It's as if the day long separation from Quinn has depleted my inner stores of energy, and seeing him once again restores my equilibrium.
Don't be mistaken that I don't love gazing upon my other three children. I do, most especially when they are sleeping and appear angelic. But I harness a different energy from the others, probably because they can converse with real words, and can relay to me, snippets of their day that I am not around to personally witness. I can replay our conversations in our mind later when I'm away from them. Their antics make me smile (like Devlin's impromptu song and dance on my bed, in front of our mirror, not realizing his parents were watching from the hallway), and their verbal declarations of affection a perfect balm to my exhausted soul. Of course, the fact that Devlin, Ceilidh and Aisling can talk also means they may add to my daily stresses the moment I walk in the door. To be bombarded with outrageous requests, disagreements, and having to referee before my high heels are off makes me want to run out the door.
This morning, Quinn woke up much too early in my opinion. But the moment he opened his eyes, there was a smile on his face. He showed no interest in his Daddy, but gazed upon me, his sleepy mother. He refused all suggestions to sleep a little longer. Instead, he insisted on smiling and staring at me. His eyes were drinking in my image, and perhaps he was filling up his mental stores of mommy's face in preparation for our daily separation.
Or perhaps, he was just waiting for Mommy to smile and signal that she was ready to play. The moment I did smile, and reached out to tickle him, he promptly put his fingers up my nose and giggled heartily.