Cute kid quote of the week

Cameron, 7.5, has already hit that stage when he doesn't want any sort of embarrassing kiss or hug goodbye on the playground (*sob*). Now I'm lucky if I can get a nanosecond of eye contact before he runs into the school. He's a loving boy, but he doesn't want his 3-yr-old brother's many declarations of affection to get too mushy or embarrassing either. So Cam has been meeting Alister's "I love yous" with various iterations of "ditto."

Alister: "I love you, Mom."

Cameron: "I say that too."

Alister: "I love you, Cameron."

Cameron: "Same thing expressed previously."

 

Grossology: Parent edition

A number of character-building experiences await me in the laundry room.

I wish I were kidding.

Usually I adhere to a strict policy about not discussing things scatalogical on this blog. I get enough of that at the dinner table. So do many of you. My overall feeling is that the less said about this stuff, the better.

At the same time, there is comfort in knowing that one's shitty experiences are shared, right?

I should start by saying that this tale isn't nearly as shitty as some. Not by far. This is no story of a long-weekend sponsored by Norwalk. It's not even a story of the morning after the night before at Mandarin.

It's just a tale of the slightly ridiculous and gag-worthy.

Some of you have already heard me complain about being under the weather lately. The sinuses that wouldn't clear got scary, face-swelling, jaw-stiffening and ear-clogging on Friday night. It's been both a godsend and a bummer that this has coincided with my mom's highly anticipated visit from Victoria, since it has meant extra hands to help with the kids and the presence of my OWN real life mother to tell me to take a nap.

Part of the highly-anticipated bit has been a special-introduction dinner. The meet-the-parents kind. Only in this case it's meet-the-parent. Singular. All this to say it's not the kind of dinner you cancel just because you're a little woozy from your antibiotics and you can't hear out of your right ear.

But when he arrived with his own child in tow, special guest had to introduce himself to special grandma because I was in the upstairs bathroom, discovering that my three-year-old had soaked the back of his two layers of T-shirt by semi-falling into the toilet.

"Oh, hi," I said barrelling down the stairs with yucky T-shirts balled up, excusing myself for not being able to touch anyone while I just nipped into the laundry room for a wee second.

Barely two minutes later I was back upstairs, gaining a better appreciation for the extent of the imperfect mounts and dismounts executed by my youngest son, normally fairly competent in this arena. The rest of his clothes were done for. The toilet needed to be scrubbed. The child needed to be bathed.

However else would one begin a dinner party?

With boy's bottom speed-bathed, I returned to the main floor with a second bundle of laundry and a child dressed in only underwear.

Dinner progressed as could be expected, with three children seven and under eating absolutely everything my gourmet-cook mom had prepared and absolutely nobody related to me standing on his chair to better make a point.

Mere seconds after the cookie bribes were dispensed at meal's end and an under-the-weather Cameron had retired to the couch, his little brother exuberantly belly-flopped on him (in an attempt either to either hug him or begin a wrestling match - who can tell with boys?) causing Cam's sniffly, dry nose to bleed. Rather a lot.

Of course in hugging and comforting him, we both got covered in blood. After the bleeding stopped, Cam changed all of his clothes and I changed my sweater, trudging back downstairs with a miffed but mostly recovered big brother and a third bundle of laundry.

"Okay, well.... that's done!" I chirped, turning to some task at the kitchen counter.

"I hate to tell you," said my mom, "but your neck has, um, a big smear of blood."

A quick check in the bathroom mirror revealed that I was indeed sporting a bit of a zombie look. The other dinner party hosts would be SO jealous when they heard about this!

It was a successful dinner, though, despite the unexpected presence of some body fluids. A little blood and stuff doesn't really faze any veteran parent - am I right?

So I shouldn't have been fazed when, two days later, my young potty procrastinator missed the toilet, fouling the white bath mat in the grossest of ways, seemingly at the very instant that I removed the bunny from his cage so I could clean it (not my favourite job), an act that caused our rabbit friend to pee on the bottom-bunk quilt in protest.

Could it be that in the interim between whisking away the yucky bath mat and wiping human bottom, my pet had gone who-knew-he-could-pee-that-much crazy on the formerly adorable quilt? Yessiree.

That's what I'm talking about people. It's no afternoon in the trauma room, but there times when I can't even believe so many kinds of gross can occur in the space of five minutes.

And I don't even own a dog.

Got a similar story of your own? Please share it in the comments. Just not while I'm eating lunch, okay?

 

 

 

 

 

 

What if 21,000 were attending YOUR kid's party?

We reported today on the British girl whose 15th birthday party nearly became epicly epic.

Rebecca Javeleau created a Facebook event for her party and invited about 15 friends. But she failed to make the event private, and 21,000 RSVP'd.

It's a classic case of "But, Mom, I only invited a few friends and they each invited a few friends." Only the ability of those few friends to reach others is infinite when powered by the click-to-share convenience of social networks.

About as many people said they would come to the teenager's party as live in her hometown, Harpender. That raises questions, not only about how little there is to do in Harpender, but about what role parents should take in monitoring and educating their children in appropriate use of social media, and how to respond when things go wrong.

Rebecca's mother, Tracey Livesy, told the Telegraph that her daughter "would be lucky to get a birthday card from me" and that "I've taken away her computer so she won't make that mistake again."

This prompted a discussion on Twitter with two friends @littlemissmocha and @Mommyality.

Littlemissmocha, a blogger and mom otherwise known as Jen, questioned whether the right approach was to take away the girl's computer. Afterall, teens can always access another computer - at school, at a friend's house. And shouldn't the parent's role be to educate their children about internet privacy?

I agree with Jen. The girl's mom should take the opportunity to show her daughter the privacy settings on Facebook and other websites she uses. If the mom doesn't know herself, she should tap the knowledge of a friend who does.

The girl's party is obviously cancelled. That's a logical consequence. But missing the (forgive me) "teachable moment" by simply removing computer privileges is a mistake.

I'm a firm believer that we're not raising children. We're raising adults. That means it's our job to equip kids with the knowledge they need to survive without us. Part of survival in a modern world is being being tech-savvy enough to protect our privacy online.

Rebecca's mistake was the result of ignorance. My hope would be that, after her mother helps lock down the Facebook profile, she takes her daughter out for cake. Every kid deserves birthday cake.

 

First day of school for a "Grade 2-er"

I wasn't as organized this Labour Day weekend as I like to be, so there was no big back-to-school bash, or ritual chocolate-chip pancake breakfast as in years past.

But my boys seemed content with our low-key lead-in to the new school year. I took each of them on separate outings to the little neighbourhood stationary store, Alister to pick out his first pencil case for Montessori school (he starts next week) and Cameron for some new pencils, sharpener and glue stick to put in his. Alister's Saturday day jaunt ended with a custom cookie from Sweet Flour, and Cameron's Monday trip at Baskin-Robbins. (Obviously this plan wasn't so great for my waistline.)

More important than acquiring this stuff, though, was talking to the boys about the changes ahead. Wee Alister needed to know he's got to say goodbye at the cloakroom door and put on his own indoor shoes, and that the soother will have to say behind (I know, I know, I just haven't had time to help him kick his baby habits). Cameron needed to explain that, "To me, I don't look like a Grade 2-er," and be reassured that he has grown and is indeed tall enough for second grade. And that surely some of his friends will be in his class. And that he'll make new friends from among the others.

Here's how his first day went:

Cameron can't stand to be late. This is him closing his backpack with enough vigor that I couldn't get a clear shot.

Then he explained school supplies to his little brother.

Since Cameron has walked to school with his buddy, Kieran, from across the street, since Junior Kindergarten, we actually now have four of these first-day-of-school shots of the two of them.

It's always a big help to connect with best friends on the playground, "and maybe figure out where we're gonna meet at recess."

 

Then it was time to say goodbyes...

...and head in!

And that was it! Suppose he's old hat at this back-to-school thing.

There's a lot of education news today:

Battle lines drawn on full-day kindergarten

Full-day kindergarten kicks off in Ontario

Forget what you know about good study habits

StatsCan finds 1 in 5 older teens drops out of school

How to talk to kids about back-to-school fears, concerns

Cute kid quote of the week

Alister, 3, the potty trainee, made up this song last night:

"Mommy and Daddy are so proud,

cause I go pee pee on the toi.....let.

And I am an underpantsy guy!"

Wordless Wednesday: Brothers

Time crunched. What are you going to do about it?

Earlier this week I shared that I'd hit a bit of a parenting wall. Experiencing the "giving fatigue" that so many of us face, I was feeling tired and in need of a little immediate gratification to balance all the one-way street work of raising a family.

As a newly-single parent, some of this stems from not having another adult with whom to share the day. But some of it is just middle-of-the-road parental burn-out.

It was interesting timing given that the very next day The Canadian Index of Wellbeing released findings that 20 per cent of Canadians experience a high level of what they call "time crunch" compared to just 16 per cent in1992. The effects of this time poverty are particularly acute for women, the study found, with 23 per cent of women feeling time pressure compared to 17 per cent of men.

I've got a lot more to say about the causes of our clock-based angst, and will share more on this later. But I hope that, if nothing else, readers took away from the survey results some comfort that they're not alone. There is no failure on your part to weave time-management magic out of your Filofax or Google calendar. There simply aren't enough hours in the day. The only answer is to make choices. Sometimes you can get to all your kids' many extra-curricular activities or all of your PTA meetings. Sometimes you've got to play hooky and lock yourself in the bathroom with a cup of tea (or possibly something stronger).

So on Monday I vowed that I'd do something restorative each day this week. Here's how it's gone so far.

Monday I left the office on time, made something quick for the kids to eat for dinner and practised a bit of benign neglect as they worked out their Lego squabbles on their own (this despite hearing things like "Listen up, cry-eypants," coming from the basement). Later I handed off the kids and found solace with two close friends over a sushi roll and cocktail. Just having someone else make me some dinner lifted me out of a pretty deep funk.

Tuesday I took a walk at lunchtime, failed to get my kids' birthday party invitations because I got distracted by pretty things at the mall and went to BootyCampFitness.

Wednesday I asked my co-parent for an extra day of childcare and hit a movie screening and a media party. Even danced a bit and got a henna tattoo. Silly huh? My kids were kind of impressed.

Thursday. I guess that's today. Well, after work, I'll be getting acupuncture for my chronic shoulder knots (sound familiar?) and then, after dinner with the kids, head to bootcamp again.

I'm grateful that I have someone else to share the load, even if he's not really mine anymore. I know not everyone else has that, certainly not most single mothers. Whatever your circumstances, I hope you can do something to treat yourself well this week, too. Sometimes it just starts with an internal cry of "uncle!" for us to make the psychic leap that things are too much.

It's no admission of defeat. Instead, it's a springboard to a happier existence. And that can only mean happier kids.

The Water is Wide

I know things aren't going well when I start singing Irish ballads. There's nothing about "The Water is Wide" or "Danny Boy" that's particularly spirit lifting.

No, these songs are for mournfully staring across expanses of ocean or their metaphorical equivalent.

But while I try to use this blog not just to inform on parenting issues but to celebrate the efforts we make and encourage others to raise a glass in their own honour, I haven't been doing that myself. Or maybe I've celebrated other people at the expense of my own sleep and sanity. Or listened to the stories of others before listening to myself. Or just plain old taken on too much, like so many busy parents do.

At the risk of absolutely beating the H2O metaphor to death, my well is low. Really low.

If it was any of my friends making this confession, I'd organize some sort of pedicure intervention or night about town. But as is the habit of so many caregivers, we listen to ourselves last. Ignore our own signals and trudge on with the busy work.

So this is me solemnly swearing to do something restorative for myself each day this week. Starting with leaving the office on time today.

I hope you can do the same.

Top videos of the week

It's the Friday of a long weekend, a day for which productivity can be best characterized by the fact that the world stopped to play Pac Man on the Google home page this morning.

So just for fun, I'm going to share a few videos that made me smile this week. Some are to watch with the kids. The others are just for you.

BEST CUTE ANIMAL VIDEO

Meet the sloths from Amphibian Avenger on Vimeo.

Because who knew baby sloths were so ugly-cute?

BEST SUMMARY OF A TV SERIES BY A BUNCH OF SCRAGGLY CATS

Because you're never going to find time to watch those other seasons on DVD.

BEST ATTEMPT TO GLAMORIZE PEDESTRIAN ASPECT OF LIFE AS A PARENT

Because you may be trying to convince yourself that the mini-van is the new Jetta.

BEST SHREK FOREVER PRIMER

Because with YouTube, there's no reason not to know the funniest lines before you even leave for the theatre.

Signs of spring

If you're lucky enough to be in parts of the country not covered in snow, I hope you've enjoyed one of those incredible, life-affirming spring weeks.

This is the time of year when neighbours come out of their houses and say hello to one another, children reclaim their playgrounds, and parents enjoy nice stroller walks to the coffee shop without the tedium of snow pants and boots.

In celebration of all things spring, thought I'd share a few of my own signs of the season.

My youngest, Alister, two-and-three-quarters, sharing an ice cream with best friend, Kara, 4, at Beresford Park this week. (Photo by Shai Sabuelba.)

Alister at the first of many outdoor birthday parties the summer will hold. (Photo by Shai Sabuelba.)

 
Cameron and Alister on their cousin's trampoline in St. Thomas, Ontario this past weekend. (Photo by Rachel Radauskas.)

Static electricity caused by jumping on said trampoline. (Photo by Derek DeCloet.)

And here are a couple of pics contributed by my friend, Kelly Smyth, a photographer and mom of three always on top of capturing seasonal fun.

Friends Adam and Ella take a walk in Rennie Park.

Lemonade stand salespeople (from left) Nolan, Jake, Ella and Davis.

And last, isn't getting yourself out of winter gear an incredible relief?