Now that Quinn has turned two, he's become better at verbalizing his likes, dislikes, needs and delight. However, when he gets frustrated that he is not having his needs met to his liking, he resorts to throwing whatever items he can grab and fling. The soother will go flying, his stuffed lamb ends up on the floor, toys get tossed and books get chucked everywhere. Sometimes, instead of tossing it with force, he'll simple let the object drop from his hand onto the floor, while defiantly staring at us. Trying to correct this behaviour has been challenging.
Tonight, he wanted to watch Power Rangers. "Go go Ray" he requested. I refused as his siblings hadn't left the house. He threw his sippy cup onto the floor, and juice squirted out everywhere.
I asked Quinn to pick it up.
He refused. Shook his head.
I told him again.
He blew a raspberry. Challenged me with his baleful eyes.
I walked away. Into the kitchen. Started washing the dishes.
Quinn toddled after me. Tried to wedge his body between the kitchen cupboards and me. And had the gall to ask for a treat.
Calmly, I advised him I wouldn't be helping him if he didn't pick up his cup. (I was quite proud of myself for NOT losing my temper.) He fell onto the floor and started bawling, crocodile tears and all.
I continued with the task at hand, ignoring this display of drama.
All of a sudden, Quinn stood up and ran into the living room. I heard a thud. Then he returned and asked for a treat, "peeze."
I repeated that his sippy cup needed to be picked up.
"I did!" he stated. "Come!"
Grabbing my hand, he pulled me into the living room, and pointed proudly, "I did. On table!"
So he had.
I asked him if he was going to say sorry for his behaviour. He nodded and leaned into me, and when I didn't move, he grabbed my hand and made me hug him.
Then he looked at my face, and asked, "Candy?"
"Can you say sorry Mommy?" I asked.
"Candy?" he asked while patting my cheek with his sticky hand.
"How about no throwing," I tried.
"Candy?" And seeing the twinkle of amusement in my eyes, he laughed and knowing he had won the battle, declared triumphantly "Candy!"
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Monday, January 27, 2014
To Quinn
Dear Quinn,
I'm sorry I yelled at you the other night. It was time for bed, and I had already read you 5 stories (two hockey books, one Power Rangers, two Thomas the Train), and you insisted on more books. It was quite late, and the nanny said you had only napped for two hours. Rather than settling down to cuddle, you threw your sippy cup and your soother, and carried on with a mini temper tantrum. And started the raspberry blowing with spit flying everywhere - your latest trick. So I yelled.
And finally, you decided it was time to sleep. And here's when you made me feel so low. You snuggled up to me. And took out your soother and said "kiss" or rather, "kith" and planted one on my lips. Then you threw your head back and laughed. I don't know why you thought it was so funny, but you repeated the action and laughed again. A third kiss before you popped the soother back in and headbutted me while climbing on top of me. As you fiddled with your lamb, you asked, "Where's Daddy? Where's Ceilidh? Where's brother? Where's shing?" I assume you meant Aisling.
When I answered they were sleeping, you then asked, "Mommy go work?" That's when I felt the bomb of the working mother guilt go off in my chest. But before I could explain that Mommy was going to cuddle you all night, and not do any work that evening, your siblings crawled into bed and demanded their Mommy time too.
It's been said that the youngest child gets the short end of the parenting stick. There are fewer pictures of the youngest child, especially when there's more than two kids in the family. The youngest rarely gets new clothes, unless of course, the older kids are a completely different sex.The memories of the youngest child often gets mixed up with the memories of the older ones.
I vowed to treasure each of your experiences separately and catalogue them in my memory. And so I won't forget, let me tell you, my dear Quinn, what makes me smile and laugh about you.
The way you greet me at the door, with a huge smile that lights up your entire face and eyes.
The way you laugh your delight when you're playing.
Instead of saying yes to a question, you'll laugh. If I ask you if you'd like more strawberries or apples or go-gurt (yogurt), you'll grin and laugh. And state "peeze".
How you recognize the logos of almost every NHL team in the league and shout out "Hockey!"
How you cheer on your brother at his games. "Go go go! Yeah!"
How you insist on putting on your sister's hockey gear and reach for the hockey sticks, inside the house, which makes me nervous that you'll either break the tv or mirror or smack a sibling in the face. You hate it when I try to offer you the mini sticks. Your daddy swears you'll be an NHL prospect. But your ability to throw the soother and other items makes me wonder if baseball would be a better fit.
How you can eat anything and everything. Quinn - you'll eat two whole grapefruits in one sitting. A whole bunch of steamed broccoli at dinner. Instead of the chicken wings and fries, you dine on the carrots and celery and ranch dressing. Three yogurts and you're still looking for more. You will most likely eat us out of house and home soon. And yet, you're still a light weight. Only 22 pounds at your 2 year check up. Your Uncle Billy swears there must be a tapeworm.
How happy you are to see your siblings at the end of each day.
The way you rub your forehead against mine.
The way you run - arms tucked in against your sides, but still swinging back and forth, while your little bum jiggles and your feet scamper across the floor.
The way you will simply force your way next to me whenever I'm cuddling a sibling of your's. You throw yourself on top and wedge your tiny body next to mine, and push the offending sibling out of the way, and state with authority, "MY Mommy!"
How you wake you up every morning, with a ready smile and a desire to cuddle.
The time you discovered a hole in your sock,and how fascinated you were that you could see your toes.
How you wrestle with your siblings and the mischievous laugh you have when you know I'm trying to catch you to put some pyjamas on. You look back and take off around the house or somersault all over the bed, trying to hide underneath the pillows, only to laugh uncontrollably when you're caught.
The way you go around the house, calling out "Mommy, where are youuuu?" whenever I'm out of your sight, and then laughing and stating "There you are" when you find me.
How I can still soothe your hurts and tears with a kiss and cuddle.
How you must know that by saying "Peeze" while smiling at me, I'll probably give in to whatever requests you have.
My baby boy, I love you, and I can't promise I won't yell at you again in the near future (in fact I'm quite sure, there will be much yelling and disagreements). But I can promise there will always be lots of hugs and kisses.
I'm sorry I yelled at you the other night. It was time for bed, and I had already read you 5 stories (two hockey books, one Power Rangers, two Thomas the Train), and you insisted on more books. It was quite late, and the nanny said you had only napped for two hours. Rather than settling down to cuddle, you threw your sippy cup and your soother, and carried on with a mini temper tantrum. And started the raspberry blowing with spit flying everywhere - your latest trick. So I yelled.
And finally, you decided it was time to sleep. And here's when you made me feel so low. You snuggled up to me. And took out your soother and said "kiss" or rather, "kith" and planted one on my lips. Then you threw your head back and laughed. I don't know why you thought it was so funny, but you repeated the action and laughed again. A third kiss before you popped the soother back in and headbutted me while climbing on top of me. As you fiddled with your lamb, you asked, "Where's Daddy? Where's Ceilidh? Where's brother? Where's shing?" I assume you meant Aisling.
When I answered they were sleeping, you then asked, "Mommy go work?" That's when I felt the bomb of the working mother guilt go off in my chest. But before I could explain that Mommy was going to cuddle you all night, and not do any work that evening, your siblings crawled into bed and demanded their Mommy time too.
It's been said that the youngest child gets the short end of the parenting stick. There are fewer pictures of the youngest child, especially when there's more than two kids in the family. The youngest rarely gets new clothes, unless of course, the older kids are a completely different sex.The memories of the youngest child often gets mixed up with the memories of the older ones.
I vowed to treasure each of your experiences separately and catalogue them in my memory. And so I won't forget, let me tell you, my dear Quinn, what makes me smile and laugh about you.
The way you greet me at the door, with a huge smile that lights up your entire face and eyes.
The way you laugh your delight when you're playing.
Instead of saying yes to a question, you'll laugh. If I ask you if you'd like more strawberries or apples or go-gurt (yogurt), you'll grin and laugh. And state "peeze".
How you recognize the logos of almost every NHL team in the league and shout out "Hockey!"
How you cheer on your brother at his games. "Go go go! Yeah!"
How you insist on putting on your sister's hockey gear and reach for the hockey sticks, inside the house, which makes me nervous that you'll either break the tv or mirror or smack a sibling in the face. You hate it when I try to offer you the mini sticks. Your daddy swears you'll be an NHL prospect. But your ability to throw the soother and other items makes me wonder if baseball would be a better fit.
How you can eat anything and everything. Quinn - you'll eat two whole grapefruits in one sitting. A whole bunch of steamed broccoli at dinner. Instead of the chicken wings and fries, you dine on the carrots and celery and ranch dressing. Three yogurts and you're still looking for more. You will most likely eat us out of house and home soon. And yet, you're still a light weight. Only 22 pounds at your 2 year check up. Your Uncle Billy swears there must be a tapeworm.
How happy you are to see your siblings at the end of each day.
The way you rub your forehead against mine.
The way you run - arms tucked in against your sides, but still swinging back and forth, while your little bum jiggles and your feet scamper across the floor.
The way you will simply force your way next to me whenever I'm cuddling a sibling of your's. You throw yourself on top and wedge your tiny body next to mine, and push the offending sibling out of the way, and state with authority, "MY Mommy!"
How you wake you up every morning, with a ready smile and a desire to cuddle.
The time you discovered a hole in your sock,and how fascinated you were that you could see your toes.
How you wrestle with your siblings and the mischievous laugh you have when you know I'm trying to catch you to put some pyjamas on. You look back and take off around the house or somersault all over the bed, trying to hide underneath the pillows, only to laugh uncontrollably when you're caught.
The way you go around the house, calling out "Mommy, where are youuuu?" whenever I'm out of your sight, and then laughing and stating "There you are" when you find me.
How I can still soothe your hurts and tears with a kiss and cuddle.
How you must know that by saying "Peeze" while smiling at me, I'll probably give in to whatever requests you have.
My baby boy, I love you, and I can't promise I won't yell at you again in the near future (in fact I'm quite sure, there will be much yelling and disagreements). But I can promise there will always be lots of hugs and kisses.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Another fraudster?
We've all done this, at least once in our lives. Some of us have gotten away with it, and some of us have gotten caught. We've probably all done it for the same reason - because we were afraid of getting in trouble from the parents. If we got caught, we learned it wasn't worth it since we got into more trouble. But if we actually got away with it, well, I'd rather not think about that.
What am I talking about? Not underage drinking. Not sneaking out to go to a party. Although I'm sure I have *that* to look forward to as a parent, but hopefully not anytime soon. No, I'm talking about forging your parent's signature on a school note or report card or test.
And Devlin has done just that. At age 9. I'm quite sure I was a bit older, like high school, when I did it. Most of my friends who confessed to forging their parent's signature were in high school at the time. And so, to make me feel better, my friends point out that my 9 year old fraudster is smart and creative for thinking of this plan to escape our wrath.
Apparently, after a few phone calls, my dear spouse (and father to the fraud artist) managed to glean the following from the school staff:
- last month, the kids had been given talks about respect and being respectful
- last week, during a fellow student's presentation, our first-born and a classmate were flinging an eraser off their rulers, and thus not being respectful
- the disrespecting students were given a warning to stop their rude behaviour
- my child and his pal did not
- instead of taking away the offending eraser, the teacher decided to send the two miscreants out into the hallway to think - without supervision
Well, putting two boys who've been banished for goofing off in a hallway, without supervision, and instruct them to think about their actions, will not result in two remorseful persons. Do you think?
Of course not!
My darling son and his pal got their hands on some paper, fashioned paper swords and started a duel.
Apparently, the teacher was not pleased with this result, so he sent them off to the "behaviour" teacher/aide.
Where they were told to write out, in their own words, why they had been sent to the behavioural aide, and bring the note home to be signed by their parents.
My son, knowing full well that his parents would not be pleased about this, decided to take matters into his own hand, or handwriting. And, then had the balls to invite some friends over for a play date on the weekend.
My husband and I were in the complete dark about these events all weekend. I noticed my child was a tad more cooperative about doing the chores and practising piano, but mistakenly or naively thought my child was maturing.
Well, he got caught, and rightly so, since the "signature" was shaky, and in pencil.
He got in way more trouble than he would have for the original transgression. I would have taken the "being sent to the behavioural aide for play fighting with a sword" way more lightly, since it was the teacher's own doing for sending out two kids in the hallway without supervision for goofing off in class together! No, not a new teacher either.
We told our sorry looking child that had he brought the first note home to be signed, he would have lost xbox for 2 weeks. But the forgery earned him two more weeks of the xbox and computer game ban and no play dates for the said month. And to make sure the message sunk in about how wrong it was to forge our signature, I read him the punishment section from the Criminal Code for uttering a forged document. His eyes grew as wide as saucers when I read out ten years of imprisonment. (Not that anyone has EVER actually gone to prison for that long but he doesn't need to know that.)
And yes, now that it's been a day since this all happened, and I've had some to reflect on it, I have to agree it was quite the cheeky move. I just didn't think I'd have to deal with this so soon. And yeah, it's part of growing up. We've all done it...admit it!
But here's my vent - why weren't we, as parents, not notified earlier? The moment the decision was made to send him to the behavioural aide, I should have been told. The school has that agenda for messages to parents, and every night, we're supposed to sign it. Every time, he gets sent out of the classroom for disrupting the class, I should have been made aware of the situation. Through a brief note or phone call. But there's nothing in his agenda. I know. I sign the blank pages everyday! How else are we parents to know anything is wrong, or work on improving the offending issues if we're kept in the dark? Clearly, the education system expects us to teach the curriculum to our kids these days, especially math (another vent topic for another blog post), but not assist in disciplining our kids? I guess they were trying to teach nine year old boys to be accountable and responsible for their actions. Well, my job revolves around grown men and women who can't take responsibility for their actions, so I don't know how these "educators" think children will do so.
Update on the basement
So apparently it's a bit worse than I thought. Or maybe I didn't realize the process of drying out a minor flood. The ENTIRE basement has been gutted, down to the concrete. The dry wall has been cut away, and I have no idea when I'll get back a third of my house. Our live-in nanny has been displaced to her sister's for the time being.
In the meantime, the garage is crammed with everything from the basement. The living room is a chaotic mess with toys EVERYWHERE! I can't turn around without stepping on *#$@ piece of lego or stubbing my toe on a die cast metal car. Between the kids, their arguing over who made the mess and who should clean it up, the fighting over one tv (and me giving in and letting them watch Netflix on the computer or tablet), I am ready to lose my mind quite soon.
We're just waiting for the insurance company to evaluate the estimates for the renovations, and I'm watching more toys migrate to the upstairs bedrooms, and the lack of storage space is driving me bonkers.
I'd like to start potty training Quinn, but I have no idea where the potty is (somewhere in the garage) nor where I would put in amongst the clutter.
I've warned my spouse if we don't hear back from the insurance company soon, I'm going to start harassing them with daily, threatening phone calls. Just kidding. No, not really.
In the meantime, the garage is crammed with everything from the basement. The living room is a chaotic mess with toys EVERYWHERE! I can't turn around without stepping on *#$@ piece of lego or stubbing my toe on a die cast metal car. Between the kids, their arguing over who made the mess and who should clean it up, the fighting over one tv (and me giving in and letting them watch Netflix on the computer or tablet), I am ready to lose my mind quite soon.
We're just waiting for the insurance company to evaluate the estimates for the renovations, and I'm watching more toys migrate to the upstairs bedrooms, and the lack of storage space is driving me bonkers.
I'd like to start potty training Quinn, but I have no idea where the potty is (somewhere in the garage) nor where I would put in amongst the clutter.
I've warned my spouse if we don't hear back from the insurance company soon, I'm going to start harassing them with daily, threatening phone calls. Just kidding. No, not really.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Happy 2014?!?!
I am so happy to see the end of 2013. It was a trying year for our family. We said good-bye to our beloved nanny, Rose, as she moved away and prepared to return to college. We welcomed a new nanny into our family. There's been a rough adjustment period (that's still on-going) but so far, and most importantly, Quinn has taken to Arlyn well. Rose left some mighty big shoes to fill, but I'm confident Arlyn will soon blend into our crazy household well.
Aisling started hockey and piano lessons. Devlin continued with hockey, cubs and piano. Ceilidh started voice lessons, while continuing with dance and piano. All three are still in Tae Kwon Do with Dad, while Quinn and I are trying to keep the household together. We spend the evenings when everyone else is out, doing laundry, preparing the next day's meals and tidying up. My promise to Quinn is to enroll him in a parent and tot gymnastics class or something. Although, I'm sure he'd rather do hockey.
Don't get me wrong, 2013 had some great moments too. We welcomed twins into our extended family. Cousins Jacob and Hannah arrived August 1st. The kids loved cuddling the babies, and Quinn adjusted to not being the "baby" anymore. Quinn went on two plane trips with Mommy, and developed a fascination for all things "boy" - like Thomas the train, dinosaurs, hockey, hockey, hockey and cars. Especially Disney's Cars. Devlin developed a love for reading stories with mythical creatures. He completed the Percy Jackson series and is now into the second series by Rick Riordan. Ceilidh finished the Monster High trilogy and is now checking out Nancy Drew. Aisling is starting to sound out words, and Quinn? While he can't read yet, he demands a minimum of 5 stories a night. Thomas or Choo-choo, Cars, the bunny book (The Runaway Bunny) and at least book involving hockey.
Two days before the great ice storm hit the GTA, our roof sprung a leak. The ceiling plaster by our sky light started coming down in chunks. Then roof froze, thanks to the ice storm, so the leaks and dripping stopped. But our majestic maple trees in our front and backyards lost several limbs. Our house is surrounded by fallen branches - still - since we decided to get the heck out of Dodge and play ostrich. But, we never lost power and we had heat and hot water throughout.
No, really, we left for two weeks of quality holiday time with the extended family down in Windsor. Auntie Shunaha and Uncle Nowell, cousins Mia, Jacob and Hannah were all there - having escaped the no heat, no hot water land of the GTA from their extended family. While crowded at Grandma and Grandpa's, it was loads of fun with plenty of food and laughs. There were seven grandkids under that roof! That's how many of us actually grew up in that house. We even had Rose join us all for Christmas.
There were some disagreements, mostly between Quinn and Mia. One afternoon, Wayne and I took our four kids and Mia to the movies. The looks and stares we got from other folks as we trooped in and took up a whole row of seats was entertaining. There was a morning spent tobogganing on the hill I tobogganed on as a kid. And many meals of indulgence for both kids and adults. Quinn celebrated his second birthday down in Windsor with a Cars cake Mommy decorated and he blew out all the candles by himself! Only Jacob stayed up to ring in the new year while the rest of the kids slumbered.
Now, the holidays are over, kids are sick, and it's time to head back to school and work.
But as much as I'm glad to say good bye to 2013, I don't know if I should be so eager to welcome 2014 considering its start. While we returned home to a fixed and patched up roof, the fallen branches remain (okay, that's our fault since we could have stayed home to clear them). It's frigid here in the GTA, and yesterday, I came home from my weekly Costco trip to a burst pipe and water in our basement. After several moments of sheer panic, and despair, and several hours without water, I've calmed down a bit. We lost a garbage bag of toys, but that's okay, since we've got so many. The futon mattress is toast. And the carpet will likely have to be replaced. There are holes in the ceiling since the plumber and Wayne were looking for the shut-off valve (there wasn't one) and had to create one for the affected pipe. The kids are without basement for a few days which means they will constantly be in our face upstairs! The nanny's room wasn't affected (thank gawd!) and I can still use the washing machine and dryer (double thank gawd!). The plumber was Devlin's Beaver leader who came out as a favour since he doesn't do residential properties. He also left us the use of his shop vac so we can try to dry out the carpets.
Tomorrow is soon enough to deal with the insurance people. Today we've got to deal with the fallen branches and make room in the garage for the basement furniture and stuff, which is 90% kids' toys and games. I've got no place to exercise in the mornings. I guess I could take up winter running again, but for the 20cm of snow expected today and the frigid temperatures to follow.
When I start to curse at our string of bad luck, I have to stop and remind myself, it's only property. While we may not be rolling in the dough, what's been lost is replaceable and what's been damaged is repairable. My children are healthy, well-adjusted and happy. my spouse and I are healthy (except for age-related aches and pains), we have a now-leakless roof over our heads, the fridges and freezers are packed with food, and we are both gainfully employed. I have a good relationship with my siblings and parents, and I have great friends. I have so much to be thankful for, and with that, I am going to sign off while wishing you all a wonderful 2014.
Aisling started hockey and piano lessons. Devlin continued with hockey, cubs and piano. Ceilidh started voice lessons, while continuing with dance and piano. All three are still in Tae Kwon Do with Dad, while Quinn and I are trying to keep the household together. We spend the evenings when everyone else is out, doing laundry, preparing the next day's meals and tidying up. My promise to Quinn is to enroll him in a parent and tot gymnastics class or something. Although, I'm sure he'd rather do hockey.
Don't get me wrong, 2013 had some great moments too. We welcomed twins into our extended family. Cousins Jacob and Hannah arrived August 1st. The kids loved cuddling the babies, and Quinn adjusted to not being the "baby" anymore. Quinn went on two plane trips with Mommy, and developed a fascination for all things "boy" - like Thomas the train, dinosaurs, hockey, hockey, hockey and cars. Especially Disney's Cars. Devlin developed a love for reading stories with mythical creatures. He completed the Percy Jackson series and is now into the second series by Rick Riordan. Ceilidh finished the Monster High trilogy and is now checking out Nancy Drew. Aisling is starting to sound out words, and Quinn? While he can't read yet, he demands a minimum of 5 stories a night. Thomas or Choo-choo, Cars, the bunny book (The Runaway Bunny) and at least book involving hockey.
Two days before the great ice storm hit the GTA, our roof sprung a leak. The ceiling plaster by our sky light started coming down in chunks. Then roof froze, thanks to the ice storm, so the leaks and dripping stopped. But our majestic maple trees in our front and backyards lost several limbs. Our house is surrounded by fallen branches - still - since we decided to get the heck out of Dodge and play ostrich. But, we never lost power and we had heat and hot water throughout.
No, really, we left for two weeks of quality holiday time with the extended family down in Windsor. Auntie Shunaha and Uncle Nowell, cousins Mia, Jacob and Hannah were all there - having escaped the no heat, no hot water land of the GTA from their extended family. While crowded at Grandma and Grandpa's, it was loads of fun with plenty of food and laughs. There were seven grandkids under that roof! That's how many of us actually grew up in that house. We even had Rose join us all for Christmas.
There were some disagreements, mostly between Quinn and Mia. One afternoon, Wayne and I took our four kids and Mia to the movies. The looks and stares we got from other folks as we trooped in and took up a whole row of seats was entertaining. There was a morning spent tobogganing on the hill I tobogganed on as a kid. And many meals of indulgence for both kids and adults. Quinn celebrated his second birthday down in Windsor with a Cars cake Mommy decorated and he blew out all the candles by himself! Only Jacob stayed up to ring in the new year while the rest of the kids slumbered.
Now, the holidays are over, kids are sick, and it's time to head back to school and work.
But as much as I'm glad to say good bye to 2013, I don't know if I should be so eager to welcome 2014 considering its start. While we returned home to a fixed and patched up roof, the fallen branches remain (okay, that's our fault since we could have stayed home to clear them). It's frigid here in the GTA, and yesterday, I came home from my weekly Costco trip to a burst pipe and water in our basement. After several moments of sheer panic, and despair, and several hours without water, I've calmed down a bit. We lost a garbage bag of toys, but that's okay, since we've got so many. The futon mattress is toast. And the carpet will likely have to be replaced. There are holes in the ceiling since the plumber and Wayne were looking for the shut-off valve (there wasn't one) and had to create one for the affected pipe. The kids are without basement for a few days which means they will constantly be in our face upstairs! The nanny's room wasn't affected (thank gawd!) and I can still use the washing machine and dryer (double thank gawd!). The plumber was Devlin's Beaver leader who came out as a favour since he doesn't do residential properties. He also left us the use of his shop vac so we can try to dry out the carpets.
Tomorrow is soon enough to deal with the insurance people. Today we've got to deal with the fallen branches and make room in the garage for the basement furniture and stuff, which is 90% kids' toys and games. I've got no place to exercise in the mornings. I guess I could take up winter running again, but for the 20cm of snow expected today and the frigid temperatures to follow.
When I start to curse at our string of bad luck, I have to stop and remind myself, it's only property. While we may not be rolling in the dough, what's been lost is replaceable and what's been damaged is repairable. My children are healthy, well-adjusted and happy. my spouse and I are healthy (except for age-related aches and pains), we have a now-leakless roof over our heads, the fridges and freezers are packed with food, and we are both gainfully employed. I have a good relationship with my siblings and parents, and I have great friends. I have so much to be thankful for, and with that, I am going to sign off while wishing you all a wonderful 2014.
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