Being old is a relative thing

Some say you're only as old as you feel. Or is it you're only as old as you look? After all, age is just a number. It's all about your attitude and perspective on being mature.
Yeah, whatever.
As the years drag on, and my children get taller and older and sassier, I'm learning that being old is a relative thing.That is, it's my relatives that make me old, both in body and spirit.
Is grey hair hereditary? Of course it is. It's caused by the off-spring and their antics.
Ceilidh announced today she finally met someone whose mom is older than her mom! A classmate's mom is 48!
And then there's Devlin, who asked if it's possible to have a baby at age 15?
I cautiously answered that, yes it's biologically and physically possible but certainly not advisable. Why, I wondered aloud, would he ask this?
It turns out he doubted that his classmate's parents could only be 26 years old!
I think another hair turned grey when I realized I am old enough to be the parent of a classmate's parent, if I had been a precocious child.

Then there's Aisling who doubted her mom would own a pair of Chucks (Converse sneakers for you old folks).
"Are those your shoes?" she asked doubtfully. "Cuz they look like something Auntie Grace would wear."

Yes, Auntie Grace is the cool and hip aunt, and in her eyes, the fashion icon to follow. Clearly, her own mother is nowhere near that cool.

But alas, I've regained a bit in the "hip" category. Ceilidh saw me wearing an old motorcycle-style black jacket, and declared me "cool".

Hug your Child

Instead of celebrating her tenth wedding anniversary this week, there is a mother in Ontario who will be preparing to say a final goodbye and bury her three children and father. Because of the actions of a unthinking individual who probably thought he was invincible or something.

There are no words that could possibly describe what this mother and father are living through and feeling and thinking. There is nothing. They lost their entire family - 2 sons and a daughter - in an instant.

How does the human spirit ever recover from that?

How can life be so cruel?

Hug your child or children, cherish them, and say a prayer for the grieving parents who are living through everyone's worst nightmare.

Hockey Drama - part 2

So, we learned late last week what team Devlin was assigned. It's a skill level below what he was playing at last year, but this coach is something else.
He's demanding a commitment in both attitude and time from these kids. There will be calisthenics before the game, and yoga after games and practices. And an extra evening of practice. There will be a nutrition plan for the kids - mainly discouraging fast foods before and immediately a game, and recommending wholesome and nutritious food items. There is a ban on sports drinks, which is more than fine with me.
The players are expected to have their gear ready to go on the night before a game or practice, and have all of their schoolwork and assignments completed before rink sessions. The team is expected to attend the games in white button down dress shirts and team ties, with their game jersey hanging smartly on clothes hanger instead of shoved haphazardly into the hockey bag with their smelly gear. There's also an off-season training program.
Seems like a lot?
I was a little skeptical too. But then I learned that several of Devlin's new teammates were invited to be part of the team Devlin that didn't make. And, these kids turned down the opportunity. They chose to remain with this coach and his philosophy. The returning players' parents also appear supportive of this coaching regime. The focus and emphasis is on learning the game, and developing each child's skill on the ice, while introducing a way of life. Devlin's commented that "it's like being in the NHL!"
In the end, I hope Devlin develops his skills and has fun, and if it's easier to convince him to eat more veggies, then I'm all for it.

Hockey Drama

It's fall, and it's time for our busy household to start up the seasonal chaos of hockey. With two kids in hockey, it's pretty  much guaranteed that we will spend way more hours in a cold ice rink than we'd like. I love that commercial about the child asking his dad about the number of games they played, the number of hot chocolates purchased, the number of games they lost and won, and most importantly, the jersey number. That pretty sums up our life. And it'll get exponentially nuttier when Quinn signs up next year.
But there's also the unexpected and crushing drama we've had this week.
A few disclaimers, though:
- our kids play at the house league level, not rep or travel
- I have no desire to see them play at the rep level
- I am not disillusioned by dreams of grandeur - I am quite realistic in my lack of expectations re: the scouts coming to our door
- all we'd like is for our kids to develop a skill and love for Canada's game

For the past three years, Devlin has played with a particular team. He's made some great friends, and of course, his hockey skills have developed. In fact, we offered him the opportunity to try out for another team this summer (the rink is closer) and he declined, citing his desire to continue playing on a team with his friends. He missed a few weeks last year as a result of an injury, which in turn, caused him to more cautious on the ice. Not an overly aggressive player to begin with, this may or not have affected how he was evaluated by the team coach.
(and here's my short rant: for a team that consistently lost EVERY game in the regular season, there was no logical reason for Devlin to be taken out during a power play on the off-chance their team could score, even when they were 5-0. Devlin challenged his coach on that decision and was told, the team needed a scoring chance. Whatever...)
Every fall, the hockey league assesses the skills of the children who have signed up in order to slot the kids into the teams of the appropriate skill level. This year, Devlin failed to make the cut for the team he's played on for three years, with kids of comparable skills as his. The team with majority of his hockey friends.
Then there was the issue that it appeared there were not enough children to form another team, as only 24 kids were assessed and of them, only one goalie.
While we waited to officially hear of where Devlin would be assigned, his father looked into vacancies on other teams. And we debated on how to break the news to our child who was looking forward to another season of hockey with his friends. I wanted to wait until we had more information about the hockey season so we could answer his questions, but Devlin caught a glimpse of his dad looking at another team's website. And he knew the first game was scheduled for this weekend and was wondering about when we'd hear about the game's location.
We sat him down last night. Prefaced with lots of reassurance of his hockey skills, we advised him he had not made the team. Devlin's face registered disappointment immediately. His face literally crumbled and he dissolved into tears. My heart broke.
I cursed this stupid assessment routine, and I most definitely seethed inwardly about the politics which we know occur during the sorting of players.
Early this morning, we received word about his new team. We pointed out some familiar names of other children he's played with in the past. He seemed okay with it, and I'm hoping he's managed to put behind his disappointment and look towards just enjoying being on the ice. The first practice is this weekend, and here's hoping he'll find himself enjoying the easy going camaraderie he had with his former teammates.
But it still sucks...

Day Two

I fear history is repeating itself. When Devlin started junior kindergarten (back when it was half days, but in reality 3 hours), he cried every day I dropped him off. For two and half months. The teachers placed a special "crying" chair for him in the hallway so he could have his tears without disrupting the class.
Quinn did not want to re-attend school this morning.
When I picked him up yesterday, he was eager to leave. He insisted on bringing his indoor shoes and extra clothes home with him, probably figuring he had tried this school gig and was so over it.
The teachers indicated that after he had his massive meltdown - where he grabbed his backpack and was ready to leave - he ended up having a good day. Though there was the off-hand comment about his stubbornness.
This morning, when I woke him up and stated "you have to get ready for school!", Quinn responded with a "I hate school" and burrowed under the pillows.
Eventually the promise of a sugary breakfast cereal coaxed him out of bed.
The bargaining of 10 minutes of television got him into his clothes for the day. Daddy tried to get him excited by letting him pick out what would go into his lunch. (He ate every crumb yesterday!)
He refused to wear his backpack so Mommy got that job.
His older brother Devlin challenged him to a series of races that got the entire crew to school in record time.
Quinn seemed to be resigned to going to school this morning. Until we got to the gate. He saw another little boy in tears, and put the brakes on. His backpack was unceremoniously dumped on the ground and off he went in the other direction. Good thing I was outfitted for a run this morning. I got my warm up in my chasing him across the playground and dragged him back. While I tried to put his backpack onto his tiny shoulders, he took off again. This time, I carried him back, and dropped him inside he gated area.
For some reason, the gate attendant wouldn't close the gate so the little rascal got away again. For the third time, I chased him and handed him off to the teacher, and without a backward glance, I walked away quickly.
Do I sound cold hearted? It's my fourth child, and I've been down this road before. My loitering around the gate would have prolonged this torture and provided false hope to Quinn that I would give in and bring him home.
But I peeked from around the corner, hidden by the building. The music blaring from my earphones drowned out his cries as I watched him stomping his feet and attempting to move around the teacher and to freedom. The teacher was doing quite the jig to block his way. Really? Close the gate!
Then he gave up, and faced the wall and cried and cried. No amount of words would make him turn around. Finally, I watched the teacher just haul up his little body and carry him in.
I am NOT looking forward to tomorrow's drop off.

Quinn's First Day!!!

Well, we started off the morning with a temper tantrum and a crying session that lasted for 10 minutes. I don't think he ate much more than the marshmallows from the Lucky Charms cereal. Then there was another tantrum over the fact that Mommy wanted a photo to commemorate the occasion.

But finally, we made it to school, and for once, with plenty of time to spare.

As we made our to the building, Devlin kept up a steady talk about the fun Quinn would have - making new friends, playing with toys. He then truly stepped into the older brother role and lectured Quinn to not hit others - "Don't punch anyone, don't scratch or kick them. And no screaming!"

Quinn refused to acknowledge his older sisters but high fived his older brother as he marched into the gated kindergarten area. Mommy walked him in. He gamely shook the teacher's hand but shrugged his shoulders shyly when asked what his name was. We all went and found his cubby hole. He said "Hi" to another little child. He obediently put away his lunch box and slipped off his rubber boots. 

My baby asked me to stay and I suggested he find a book in the basket. While he was distracted, I slipped away. I peeked in a few times as I made my way in the rain to the yard. No tears yet from the Quinnster.

Looks good...for now...

Daddy and I returned home. Daddy was wiping away tears (his baby was going to school) while I looked forward to toasting the momentous occasion with the champagne (my baby is going to school!!) I had chilled the night before. 

True enough that this school thing might be short lived - he is only 3.5 years old, but let's run with it for now.

Thought we'd give the teachers fair warning about our crew!

T-1 and counting...

It's the first day of school - yay!
But Quinn doesn't start until tomorrow. Staggered start for junior kindergarten. To allow those teachers a chance to familiarize themselves with the new faces and slowly ease the new ones (and themselves) into a routine of sorts.
We decided to do a trial run this morning. Woke the kids up early. Fed them breakfast. Gave the deadline of being out the door by 8:20am.
Last night, the buggers decided that they were ready for school and decided to watch tv in the evening while I unpacked from our last hurrah summer vacation and tried to assemble a meal.
This morning, at 8:21am, those darn kids of mine realized they needed pencils and indoor shoes.
And then there was Quinn, who walked ever so slowly and splashed in every puddle he could spy.

Result - late for the first day of school.

Plan for tomorrow - get them out the door at 8:15am.

But also make sure Quinn goes to the bathroom before we leave and cross our fingers he doesn't need to poop at school.
Last week, I again encouraged him to wipe his own bum. He declined, and demanded that I do the honours.
"But Mommy won't always be with you! Who's going to wipe your bum at school?" I asked.
"Devlin will do it - Devlin goes to school," the little monkey stated in a matter of fact tone.

Devlin, of course, was aghast.

Growing up Quinn

Where does the time go?
Last year, at this time, Quinn was still in diapers, and I had vague notions of toilet training him. Then came September and the realization that he would be going to junior kindergarten the following year. I panicked, and started boot camp potty training my baby. That means no pants and no diapers and setting him on the potty every 30 minutes until he got the idea. And he did - quite quickly, compared to his older siblings. There were a few accidents, but nothing like Miss Aisling's "secret" where she'd hide the soiled underwear in the dirty laundry basket (okay, technically, that's where they  belonged, but not in that state) and decline to inform anyone of her accident. There was no hiding in the corner or under a table to go number 2 like his older sister Ceilidh. There were no full on accidents in his underwear that would prompt much cursing from his mother, unlike his older brother Devlin who began to associate *$%** with poop in the underwear.
No, Quinn was quite amenable to toilet training. Ten months later, we've had a few incidents where he waited too long and then became distraught over his "accident".  We've also learned the hard way that three juice boxes is one too many for his tummy. To his credit, he did make it to the toilet in time, but the mess he left was one for the record books.
And for some reason, he refuses to stand at the toilet. He prefers to sit, and point his little penis downward. It makes for less mess, except for when he's excited and points to the television instead.
And then there was the time, Mommy had to hold his member down as he needed both hands to balance himself on the huge toilet in the public washroom at the hockey rink. So, there I was, crouched at his level (and very close to disgusting public toilet), holding his pee-pee down and he declares loudly, in the cavernous bathroom, "I love you Mommy" and leans towards me to plant a kiss on my face.
My reaction? "No Quinn, stop, you're going to fall off and pee on Mommy!" He laughed and laughed at the thought.
When I ask him who he belongs to, he always answers "you Mommy" and hugs my legs tightly.
His latest thing? Getting into mischief, or getting caught looking for sweets, and then smiling sweetly and saying "what? I did nothing!" while shrugging his shoulders.
There's barely a month left before he heads off to kindergarten. I'm a little worried - we haven't mastered bum wiping and he really does need a nap during the day. He's not into sandwiches so I haven't a clue as to what will be in his lunch bag.He loves all fruits so maybe we'll just fill his lunch containers with apples, strawberries and grapes. He refuses to drink milk (unless there's chocolate in it) and he still calls it "going to the potty" when he needs the toilet. Daddy's more concerned that no one will understand him given his missing two front teeth. I'm more stressed about his penchant for physical play and his inability to share his toys.
And then there's the classic fall down, kicking his heels and screaming temper tantrums. Very common and normal for a three year old, but not so much for a kid going into kindergarten. His ice skating lessons and foray into gymnastics were cut short by his stubborn streak and refusal to partake in an activity he didn't like. And the fact that I refused to spend another frozen moment at the rink, watching him lie prone on the ice. As for gymnastics, he didn't like to wait for his turn and quickly grew bored with sitting still. Again, not a good sign for school.
He can't quite count past 4 but is cognizant of portion sizes. He can definitely tell when his sister gets a bigger scoop of ice cream.
But he loves to have books read to him, and can recite the story back to you after a few repetitions. He's eager to do "homework" when his older siblings are doing their daily tasks. That's a sign of school readiness, isn't it?
Perhaps, the truth is, that I am not ready to send off my baby to school. He will no longer be my "baby" but my little boy. Soon, the sweet baby scent will be replaced by a slightly stinky sweaty little boy smell. The endless of questions of "why" and what that for" will be replaced with "just cuz" and "later Mom".
Perhaps soon, he'll want to sleep on his own instead of snuggling up next me, or burrowing his little body under my pillow. Then again, perhaps not, since his siblings still need to sleep in Mommy's bed.

March Madness

No, not the NCAA.
It's March break. When parents of school age children question their sanity. Especially the ones that decided to take time off work to spend the week with their off-spring. And more so, the parents who decided it wasn't in the budget to go somewhere fun and warm but decided to stay-cation and are now  regretting that silly decision.
Because if we had gone somewhere fun and warm, at least I'd be having some fun too. Because after what we've spent this week (and we're only halfway through the week), we probably could have flown to some place with sand and sun. Because if we had left our home base, I wouldn't be doing endless loads of laundry and sweeping up crumbs, and refereeing the kids' squabbles over Lego and Xbox time.
It's not that horrible. The week started out promising. The kids are in swimming lessons in the morning. That means they're ravenous for their lunches. A good long shower after the lessons also means we can skip the chaotic bathtime this week.
On Monday, the girls and I went to the Young People's Theatre for the live production of Pinocchio. We were entertained well despite the very uncomfortable seats. The boys spent the afternoon at the Hockey Hall of Fame. Ten bucks at the Bulk Food store bought enough candy to keep them in a sugar high all week. We treated the kids to a meal out. They more or less behaved. We treated ourselves to a couple of pints for not losing a child in the wilds of the GTA.
The next day was a trip to the zoo. It was cold and windy. But the sun was shining and the Beaver Tail shack was open. Armed with a thermos of hot cocoa, we counted penguins and waved at the panda bears. We hadn't been to the zoo all last year so it was touching to watch Quinn's excitement. He shouted to the Sumatran tigers, and tried to wake the slumbering polar bears. He laughed at the baby gorilla and found the giraffe house to be very stinky. He mistook the giant tortoises for turtles, naming them Michaelangelo, Raphael, Leonardo and Donatello. He was nose to nose with one creature, with only the glass pane separating them.
And since it was St. Patrick's Day, my 1/4 Irish kids celebrated with green cake, complete with green icing and green Leprechaun fairy dust. So despite the fresh air and tons of physical exercise, they were not to eager to fall asleep last night. I ended the day with a pint of Guiness.
Today was another ride on the GO train. Quinn chattered excitedly every time we passed another train. He saw one with Thomas the Train painted on the car. He pointed to Percy and Henry, which were really the engines on our train.
This afternoon, I debated on obtaining a Twitter account. Just so I could rant. Concisely.  I could picture the tweets.
#dumbparents - why didn't we save for vacation?

#RipleysAquarium - not a fan. My kids need to pee every 5 min. Is it the water?

#I.hate.ripleys.aquarium - who designs playground in middle of dumbplace?

#RipleyAquariumHater - I need to invest in leash. For kids.

#I.really.hate.ripleys - why so dark? lost a kid or two.

#CNTower.ripoff - I spent how much to ride an elevator? (wait, that should go under #dumbparents)

#CNTower.ripoff - restaurant charges ransom for milk (also applies to  #dumbparent)

#MarchMadness - Mommy losing her mind.

I can't believe I just paid more for a glass of milk with my kid's meal than what it costs for 4 litres of the stuff in a grocery store. And if you think, three kids who drink milk with their meal, plus refills - yep, just spent more on their drinks at one meal than I would spend for the entire week's supply for my milk fanatic kids. Yet my beer was reasonably priced.
The whole highway robbery thing is this - what restaurant charges for the drink with the kids' meal??? One that preys upon tourists and dumb parents.

And while I'm still in shock over what this week has cost us so far, my kids are having the time of their lives. They have stated their gratitude at the various outings, and they have smothered us with hugs and kisses. Mostly, I think they're happy to have both mommy and daddy at home with them.
Quinn has been overjoyed every morning, waking up to see me still in bed. "You stay home?" he asks as he climbs on top of me and hugs me tightly. I, too, have enjoyed the extra cuddles.

But the best part about this March madness? It's my first March break, or rather the first time in a very LONG time, that I haven't been burdened with dragging around a diaper bag! Or a stroller. I've managed to spend the day in the GTA with only my purse, filled with a few treats to entice a grumpy child out of a crowded, poorly designed aquarium. Some gummy bears, a lollipop or two, BUT NO EXTRA CLOTHES, DIAPERS, TOYS, SOOTHERS.
Oh the freedom!

Ontario's new sex ed curriculum - This parent's rant

The big news story of the week is the re-vamped sex education curriculum that's been unveiled by the Ontario Liberal government. I've pasted a summary of the new curriculum below.

Grade 1

Students in Grade 1 will be taught the proper names for body parts – something child-abuse investigators have long urged.

They will also learn how to recognize non-verbal signals, such as facial expressions and tone of voice, to better communicate with others.

Grade 2

In Grade 2, students will learn about bodily changes and development, verbal and physical violence, and the concept that “no means no.”

Grades 3-4

Grade 3 students will learn about same-sex relationships, while the physical, emotional and social impacts of puberty will move from Grade 5 to Grade 4.

Grades 5-6

In Grade 5, students will continue learning about puberty, including menstruation and spermatogenesis, and how these processes relate to reproduction.

Students in Grade 6 will learn about masturbation and “gender expression.” They will also be educated on how to build healthy relationships and consent.

Grades 7-8

In Grades 7-8, students will learn about the dangers of “sexting.”

They will also discuss contraception, anal and oral sex, and ways to prevent pregnancy and sexually transmitted infections.

Grades 9-10

Teaching materials on mental health, previously relegated to older grades, will be introduced in Grade 9. Grade 9 students will also explore gender identity, sexual orientation and the resources available for support.

In Grade 10, students will continue to learn what factors influence sexual decision-making, including personal values, peer and family expectations, and media messages.

Under the current sex education program, Grades 9 and 10 students focus on promoting healthy sexuality, preventing sexually transmitted infections, and identifying the stages of sexuality.

Grades 11-12

Similarly to the existing program, students in Grades 11 and 12 will focus on how to use decision-making skills to create healthy relationships.

They will also learn about reducing the stigma around mental illness, and taking proactive health measures

Some parents are protesting on religious grounds. Some parents are protesting that it goes too far.
I am protesting too. But for a combination of reasons, none of which have to do with religion.
The ministry of education has screwed up its priorities with respect to our children's education.
The school's current educational regime has done away with rote memorization for multiplication tables. Rather, they are utilizing some creative form of math using T-charts to teach basic math skills. Let me tell you, it's NOT working. I spend ridiculous amounts of time trying to re-teach my kid basic math skills. And don't get me started on math journals. I'm not an idiot in math. I've even got a second year university calculus under my belt. My spouse is in finance, for pete's sake, And we can't figure out our kid's absurd math homework. It's not the math we don't understand (we get that mathematics operation is multiplication) - it's the new fangled teaching concept of "patterning" that leaves us banging our heads against the wall.
I can't believe the government, that is the ministry of education, believes it can teach our children about the complicated issue of consent in grades 5-6. When the judiciary and the courts still have difficulty in interpreting consent, how can a 12 year old begin to understand the intricacies of the dynamics that play into the issue of consent.
If the schools can't even be trusted to teach basic addition, subtraction, multiplication and long division, how can I trust that they'll get the complicated concept of consent right?
Then there's the topic relating to sexting. I'd be happy if they could teach children how to spell properly, and not how it sounds. Proper punctuation and correct grammar might save us from the ridiculous 40 character twitter universe. And yes, I'm that parent that once sent back the school letter to parents with my red pen marking up the spelling errors and grammatical mistakes.
Perhaps what is more infuriating is the belief that my children need to learn about anal sex. To me, that's extraneous information at this age. Not required. However, cursive writing is considered to be unnecessary in the current educational guidelines. Really? Last time I checked, our identification documents, like the passport, required a signature. Mortgage documents, bank loans, agreements of sale and purchase - all of these require a signature in ink. Not an electronic signature. Not a thumbprint. Not a retinal scan. But your name, signed in cursive. Yet they don't teach that in schools. Don't even get me started on the fact they don't teach how to read cursive writing.
And here's the thing about anal sex - it's still listed in the Criminal Code as an offence. It may have been declared unconstitutional, but it's still there. So, now the schools will be teaching the kids about technically illegal activities.
I'm not a prude, but I really don't think education about anal and oral intercourse is necessary in grade school. Rather, the energies of the teachers should be spent on fostering positive self-images, being comfortable in one's skin, celebrating the diversities in our world and teaching mutual respect for others. Oh wait, that's what the anti-bullying campaigns were about. And they still haven't licked that problem.
I love that kids in grade one will be learning about facial expressions and tones of voice. Really? Like they haven't figured out that while they were still in diapers?
Frankly speaking, I think children will be traumatized learning about the bodily changes in grade 2. Seven year olds are still trying to figure out how to tie their shoe laces. Now we're going to teach them about getting body hair and boobs?
Whatever happened to trying to preserve the innocence of our babes?
But if we must prepare them for the real world...then how about teaching children about violence in the homes, and how to recognize violence in intimate relationships? It's unbelievable the numbers of young, teen girls who find themselves in abusive relationships but chalk it up to a sign of "love". I'm all for educating children about the dangers of "sexting" and sending explicit photos of oneself to others. But I think gender identity should probably be covered before anal intercourse, given that same sex relationships will be covered in grade 3.
I understand it's important to educate our children about sex and all that it entails. I just can't believe the brain power that's gone into this, when the three r's are suffering abysmally. I get it that even Rhodes scholars and American presidents struggle with the concept of what "sex" is, or isn't. But at least he could write an essay on the topic.
Listening to me rant, my spouse suggested that perhaps I should start attending the school board meetings and protest these changes. After all, we as parents, have to make our voices heard, considering our tax dollars, blah blah blah.
A worthwhile thought.
But I'm too busy trying to teach my kids how to read, write in cursive and do math. You know, all the subjects I send my kids to school to learn.

Happy Family Day

It's minus 30 or something incredibly, ridiculously cold that is mind blowing, or rather mind freezing...
My house is a hive of activity. Between one whining child, another half-heartedly practising piano, one running around shooting suction cup arrows and another moping about the lack of stuff to do (homework? read a book? clean up your bedroom?)...I. Am. Trying. Really. Hard. To. Enjoy. This. Family. Day.
In the past, we've done the zoo, the science centre, the city sponsored events - all complete with crowds, screaming children, crying babies and grumbling parents.
Family Day is really a birth control method put on by the government. This holiday they've given us to enjoy time off with our families. Really, after a day of fighting the crowds at the "family fun" events is enough to make one swear off at having any more children. Too bad, it's a too little, too late for me. Hah...just kidding....I really am loving having one day of the year that I can sleep in and wake up to a little boy cuddling me and happily chattering away because "Mommy not going to work".
I am sipping a gigantic cup of freshly brewed coffee with a healthy dose of Irish Cream, debating on whether -30 is too cold to venture out for ice skating, or if I can simply throw the kids outside, bundled up in their freshly laundered snowsuits. Just read a frostbite warning on the weather network. Okay, I guess that would be considered cruel and unusual punishment. Need to think of another family friendly activity.
I need more Bailey's.
It's still too cold to venture out. Daddy gets brilliant idea to work on this school assignments and homework. Lots of whining. Lots of hair pulling (us) as we try to explain right angle and polygons, and sounding out words.
I need more Bailey's. And I've run out of coffee.
Happy Family Day.

All boy

Having two kids of each gender, I am more convinced that it's all nature, and not nurture.
Case in point:
The other night, Quinn is walking around with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. His one hand appear to be scratching at an itch, on his backside. And his hand is in his pants.

Me: Are you itchy? (thinking it could be a rash, or maybe another patch of eczema given the cold weather)
Quinn: Nope.
Me: Then get your hand out of your pants.
Quinn: Okay. (Stated with a devilish grin.)

Me: Why is your hand in your pants?
Quinn: It's not! It's in my bum! See! (as he pulls his offending hand out)

Then he runs up to me, asks "Wanna smell?"

Me: Gross! No!
Quinn: smells like poop?! Hahahaha! (laughs uproariously)

Me: Really? This is what makes you laugh?
Quinn: Yup! Haahahaha....Mommy, come here! (chasing me around the house with his hand stuck out)

Yup, my two girls would NEVER have done this.