Wise words ...

This morning started out like most weekday mornings ... get up, start the coffee, shower, make lunches, wake monkey girl and the little dude, turn Fraggle Rock on, serve breakfast, make the beds, blow dry my hair, encourage kids to finish eating, put make-up on, encourage kids to finish eating, get dressed, tell kids that they MUST finish eating and get dressed, hover until they move from the table, make sure everyone brushes their teeth, get the little dude to let the dog in - refuse to pay him to do so, try to get out the door, eventually lose my cool, finally load into the truck, feel bad, give kisses and promise to not lose my cool the next day if they will promise to listen, drop kids off, park at bus stop, get on the bus.

But today something changed when I got on the bus. I sat down on one of the front benches (in a spot that may have been slightly smaller than my bum)between two ladies, one of whom decided to strike up a conversation. Usually when I am taking public transit, I have a habit of keeping my head down and reading my book rather than making new friends, but today breaking the norm led me to a 10 minute conversation that changed my perspective.

After I almost sat on her, this lady joked with me that so long as I did not sit completely on her lap everything would be fine. To which I responded that I would do my best. Then, after a chuckle shared between the two of us, she looked at me and asked if I knew what the secret to a long life was. "Tell me", I said and she went on to share with me that the secret was simple, "Don't get angry, life is too precious and too short. I am 89 and a half and when I was still married my husband, who had been a prisoner of war for five years, would sometimes wake up in a bad place. So, I would tell him that I needed to go to the bank and pay the cable bill, which of course had already been paid, and I would leave for an hour or two. When I returned he would always tell me that he knew that I didn't want to fight, and that is why he figured I gave him his space. It wasn't worth it to be angry over nothing". At this point in our conversation, I knew that this was a very special woman who had a very enlightened perspective on life, and since her 90th birthday is just around the corner - April 6, 2009 - I chalked it up to learning from someone who has had a lot of life experience. I took a moment and silently wondered where life had taken her but knew that our ride together was coming to an end. So out of curiosity, I asked how many children this lovely lady had, imagining what a great mom she must be, and she responded "one" and then her eyes welled up with tears and she said, "Well two, but I was in a concentration camp in Nazi Germany and the guards would just point randomly to people and you would never see them again, life is too short dear - don't waste it on saying and doing things that you can't take back".

"I was a spoiled girl before that, I had a good heart but I was selfish. I became a good person afterwards. Life is precious." Now I don't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that my sunglasses covered the tears in my own eyes, but this interaction completely moved me, and her perspective started to make more and more sense. I want to live my life as a good person too, I sometimes get mad at silly things and say things I wish I hadn't and though it isn't likely that I will never do these things again, this experience will make me work harder not to. I will never forget the look in that woman's eyes when she spoke of losing her child or the wisdom that she shared with me.

Before she got off the bus the conversation turned to talk of her upcoming birthday and she told me that she was sure that there would be a party but she was only giving them three hours ... "for goodness sakes I will be 90, three hours is enough!" She also said that she had asked her son to get her a t-shirt that reads, "How the heck did I get this old?". I hope that he buys her that t-shirt and I hope that when people ask her how she got that old that she shares her wisdom and experiences with them. They will be better for it, I know I am.

If I am five minutes late getting out the door tomorrow, I will watch my words and look at the bigger picture ... I am blessed and at the end of the day what is important is the little people that I am getting out the door, not what bus I catch.

On a lighter note ...

I promised to tell the "bum drum" story, so here it is:

Prologue

My husband started to play bum drums with the kids when they were really little. What it is is a little game where he plays the drums on their bums when they are rough-housing and it makes them laugh. Monkey girl, as she often does, has taken the game to a new level and sometimes slaps the bums of her uncles or friends of ours who come by to visit. Everyone, so far, has been good natured about it and because she is only three there is really no harm done, so long as she is selective in her "bum drum recipients".

The Incident

So, I went to pick monkey-girl up from her dayhome one day last week, and I arrived with another couple who was there to get their child. We all exchanged pleasantries and went about the business of saying goodbye and collecting our children. Same old, same old.

Then, as we were leaving, to my absolute horror, monkey girl smacked the bum of her little buddy's dad. OMG!!!

Immediately his head whipped around and there I was, standing red-faced and speechless as I looked from him - to his wife - to our dayhome provider - to the grinning culprit "monkey girl". Finally, after a moment of complete awkwardness I mumbled that it was a small hand, NOT my hand, that had done the "drumming" and that I would have to correct this tendency before adolescence. Everyone kind of laughed and I scooped monkey girl up and made my way, as quickly as possible, to my truck.

Once we were buckled and in the privacy of our vehicle, I laughed hysterically for a moment before saying, "Now sweetie, you can't play that game with everyone. Can you promise me that you won't play "bum drums" anymore with people who aren't in our family?"

Now, I probably should have banned the game entirely, but the innocence of it had a certain beauty. Amidst all of the crazy and horrible things that go on in the world, I figure that sometimes it is okay to just let our kids be little and bask in their innocence.

WARNING: For those readers who frequent our house, you are not immune to bum drumming, and though you may not be related to her, monkey girl has a tendency of enabling her selective memory at a moment's notice - the result may be that you get spanked at our house.

Mind your manners mommy

Back when I was a brazen eighteen year old brat, I once had the gall to say to my dad ... "do as I say, not as I do RIGHT?!?!?" Obviously it was not a situation that was pretty but we have gotten over it with time and effort so I will not divulge the context in which it was used - anyone who knows my dad is probably impressed that I am even around to write this post after that type of blatant disrespect. Anyhoo, retribution reared its ugly head this past week when monkey girl schooled me, her mom, in manners.

I asked monkey girl to get into bed one night this week and she stood there and said, quite defiantly I might add, "Say please mommy!!!" to which I responded - rather unthoughtfully - with a "GET INTO BED NOW!". After some back and forth between the two of us she finally went to bed and I scurried off to watch the season premiere of NCIS(my favourite show)all bugged because I missed the opening credits - tragic, I know. The next day I noticed that she did the same thing when the little dude wanted her to move off of my stomach (each of my kids lay on my stomach for their pick of the nightly stories each night) ... she sat tight until he said please and then moved right over so they could switch places. After this I got to thinking that I don't think that I ever did break down and say please to her the night before. Which was followed by flashes of all of the times that I have refused to pass something or do something until I got a "please" or a "thank you" from her.

How many times have I uttered the words, "What do you say?" or "Use your manners" and I have not been taking my own advice when it comes to my kids, and they are the ones I am supposed to be setting the example for.

In a parent - child relationship there is this weird power differential that, though it is absolutely necessary in many ways, can be taken too far. We shouldn't ask our children to behave a certain way if we are not willing to set a proper example. We have been talking a lot in our house lately about the fact that respect is earned, not required. This is an interesting notion to keep in mind as a parent because our children DO have a choice as to whether or not they respect us and it is up to us to both earn and reciprocate that respect.

In short, I am now cognizant of my manners when talking to my children more so than I ever have been before. It is not that I never used to say please and thank you when talking to them but I never made it a rule. I even found myself saying, "PLEASE don't pick your nose and eat it" the other day. Oh, the things you never thought you would hear yourself say!!!

Signing off for another weekend of fence building and bottle driving ... ooh and hockey starts this weekend, I am officially a hockey mom - now that could make for some fun posts!

Check back next week for a funny story about "bum drums" ...

Do as you say ... or shoot for 500 anyway

First of all I should probably explain the sports reference to my non-sports fan readers ... shooting for 500 refers to winning 1/2 of your games ... keep reading and it should make more sense.

So, I found myself back in a shopping environment with monkey girl and the little dude a few nights ago. We started out by making a deal that if they, my kids, were well-behaved in Michael's (the giant craft store) that we would spend some time in the toy section when we went to Zellers to get monkey girl tights for dance class. Our craft store experience went surprisingly well, with the exception of a hip hop routine performed in the aisle where "all things breakable" live, so the toy section plan was still a go for our next stop.

We walked two stores down and entered Zellers a happy little family, later on I found myself wishing that I could travel back in time to that moment because the happiness ended about 20 paces into the store in front of the Hannah Montana accessory display. Monkey girl, who isn't really old enough to sit through and actually enjoy an entire episode of Hannah Montana, decided this summer that she LOVES Hannah Montana (which she demonstrated on holidays with a week long stint in a t-shirt bearing the teen-star's image). Bearing this in mind it makes sense that she was immediately drawn to the display which was stocked with several earring and necklace sets with guitars and little rhinestones on them ... now I agree that it was cute stuff, but I had NO intention of bringing any of it home with us. Monkey girl, on the other hand, had other plans. Just looking quickly turned into wanting an earring set and when I pointed out that she does not have pierced ears, things went downhill, fast. So there we were, less than two minutes after our entrance as a happy family, and I was surrounded by a distraught toddler, from whom I had to pry the earrings, and a little dude who just wanted his sister to stop crying so that he could look at the toys.

Then before I knew it I was saying, in a very stern voice, "IF YOU DO NOT STOP CRYING IN THREE SECONDS WE ARE LEAVING ... 1, 2, 3!!!" (I am famous for this annoying counting tactic) It was one of those situations where I regretted saying the words before they were even out of my mouth because I really needed to buy the tights that night to be prepared for the next day's class (the thing about working downtown is that there are not many places to buy size 4 capri tights at lunch - there should be, but there's not and I know because, out of necessity, I checked!!!)

In any case, at the end of three seconds the crying had not stopped, and I was faced with the decision to either stick to my guns, or back down and finish the shopping trip as planned. I did a quick take of the surrounding area and noticed that there was at least one other mother with her child listening to our interaction (the others had left the section quickly ... likely covering their ears to block out the screaming, or running for fear that monkey girl's behaviour was contagious and might spread to their own, quieter children) With the pressure of a fellow mother as my spectator being top of mind ... I picked up monkey girl, tried to avoid looking into the disappointed face of the little dude (who really deserved to look at the toys) and left the store ... tightless. After a quick attempt to escape (she actually made it back in through the first set of automatic doors ... if wiggling at lightning speed ever becomes an Olympic sport I have a star in-waiting) we got into the truck and began our trip out of the mall parking lot with: one child pouting, one child bawling and one mother wishing that she was a time traveler (I am currently reading The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger - great book!)

I had to make one more stop at 7-11 to get some stamps and bought the little dude a piece of beef jerky as a peace offering for letting him down ... monkey girl was still crying uncontrollably (actually her persistence is kind of impressive in hindsight) and as a result two police officers watched me very closely and the store clerk offered her chocolate (apparently they did not have children of their own or they would have been giving the stink-eye to monkey girl ... the real crime was that my ears were ringing and the little dude did not get what he earned, not that monkey girl did not get pierced earrings for her unpierced ears).

All's well that ends well ...

A small miracle occurred a few blocks away from 7-11 ... the crying stopped and monkey girl said, "I -sniff- love you Mommy, and I love Hannah -sniff- Montana". So ridden with "mother's-guilt" I stopped at the last corner store on the way to our house and bought her a small sour gecko.

This is what I mean by shooting for 500 - I stopped myself from making another empty threat (something that I have often been guilty of doing) but the sweetness of my monkey girl, once she had morphed back into normalacy, won me over in the end and she ended up with a treat. **insert sigh here

As a result of this experience I have made a short list of "threats" not to make unless you plan on following through, as a bonus I have also included some alternate solutions:

When at a place that you plan on staying, don't say ... we are going to leave if you keep that up!

(I have done this many times at family dinners or BBQs and I don't think we have ever actually left)

Alternate solution (for young kids): I have started giving time outs in the car. I buckle the culprit into their seat and then stand outside the car until the tantrumming stops - it is quick and effective (for my kids) and removes them from the situation so other people can continue to enjoy the event.

At the dinner table, don't say ... if you don't eat all of your dinner you are not getting anything else tonight!!!

Chances are you are not going put an eating ban into place if it turns out that your child really is hungry later.

Alternate solution: If this happens often and the child eats some of their meal maybe they just need smaller portions or if it is just occasionally ask the child to eat a certain amount of everything on his or her plate and then if they are hungry later limit them to a small healthy snack.

When your child has earned a reward, don't threaten to take it away before they have even had time to enjoy it.

This is a tough one because, as parents, we are often looking for something that will have impact when mentioned, but if your child has legitimately earned something through hard work and perserverance just to have it taken away for some small misstep, you are running the risk of negating the life lesson that they have learned by working for something. There is likely another tactic or another item that they enjoy without a lesson attached to it that would be equally effective if taking something away is what works for your child.

Keep in mind I have come to this advice by learning the hard way.

Well that is all for now ... happy trails in your parenting adventures this weekend! We will be trying to build a fence with a monkey and a dude as part of the work crew ... I am sure there will be stories to share when we are through :o)

PS I went to Co-op grocery shopping the night after the Hannah Montana Earring Debachle and monkey girl was an absolute angel ... the only thing that we could have skipped was when she sat down in the middle of the store to bite her toenails, but hey she may as well do it while she doesn't realize how gross it is and she is flexible enough to get her feet in her mouth!

Food for thought ...

I came home from a night out with the girls on Friday night all full of monkey girl and little dude stories to post for both your reading enjoyment and to do my weekly purge of parenting "woes" and "wows", and received news via Facebook that changed my perspective.

A friend of mine from junior high school that I had reconnected with on Facebook had posted photos a few weeks back of her son who had been born premature at 23 weeks. For just over two weeks extra prayers were being said by a large network of people to help the family and their sweet little boy make it from one day to the next. I, along with several other people, watched her postings for updates on how the baby was doing and was constantly amazed by the strength and courage that it must have taken for her to share her story. So on Friday night while I was checking Facebook just like it was any other day, I saw a note amongst all of the updates and comments that started with the words "It is with heavy hearts ...", this heartbreaking announcement came only 18 days after the "little man's" parents welcomed him into the world with loving arms and hopeful hearts.

I cannot even imagine, and pray that I never know, the pain of losing a child. Today (Sunday), there was a note posted by a friend of the family entitled 18 days in which the author wrote about all of the things that she had been worrying about during the time that her friends were spending the precious moments of their son's short life. The list included things like bills, flu shots and the start of a new school year ... the same things that I had given extra thought to over the last 18 days, and I was struck by how so many of us (myself included)wander through life never really knowing how blessed we are and it takes staring tragedy in the face to really take inventory of all of the things that we have to be thankful for, and to fully realize just how fragile life is.

After shutting down the computer on Friday I went upstairs and snuck into each of my kids'rooms and just sat for a minute, hugged them a little harder than I might have otherwise and said a little thank you for these amazing little people and all of the lessons that they have taught me and continue to teach me every day.

If you can find an extra moment please say a little prayer or send a happy thought out into the universe for this couple as they mourn their little boy.

The little dude is becoming a little man ... and a nice little man at that

Seeing as I promised more cheer this week, it worked out perfectly that my little dude took time out of his otherwise very active schedule to shine two separate rays of sunshine into my life this past week ... my kids are constantly making me happy but sometimes they do something extraordinary without even knowing it and those are the moments when, as parents, I feel as though we are leading them down the right path - I wish every parent moments like these and advise that you keep them in the vault for when your kids are driving you INSANE!!!

Little dude moment #1

There is this boy in our neighbourhood that comes around to our house every once in awhile to play with the little dude, and to this kid it has always been a "friendship of convenience". In life we have many of these types of friendships and it is okay, but when you are a six year old little dude and you think all friendships are genuine it can suck pretty hard when you are passed over for a "better" or "cooler" friend.

So over time, my little dude has learned the hard way that this boy is not his BFF and chances are that if this kid comes calling he is either going to ditch the little dude or say something mean and go (or be sent) home early, hence leaving the little dude alone in the yard or basement with tears rolling down his face. (I know this sounds pretty harsh and I realize that this kid is not malicious in his intent - in fact he has a great set of manners and always calls his mom to let her know where he is - but he does not really want to be friends with the little dude, he just fills the time he has to wait for his other friends by coming to our house)

At the end of the school year we got some new neighbours who happened to have two kids that are the same age as our kids and the little dude also started his summer of fun - sports camps every week with other sport-loving kids his own age. As a result, as the summer has progressed we have noticed a change in the little dude's confidence. You can see it when the neighbour kids come over and REALLY want to play with him (and monkey girl) and you can see it when the leaders at camp chant his name as he bursts through the gym doors each morning. He can feel that he is liked and it is a good feeling - in fact he was recently dubbed by a group of leaders at camp as the ultimate sports camp kid (please excuse the proud mama moment).

So to make a long story short, a few days ago this other boy came to our place with a friend, akid that he has often passed the little dude over to play with, and wanted to play. I was sitting on the front step watching the little dude practice skateboarding when the boys approached and observed the interaction from my afar without being able to hear what they were saying. A couple of minutes later the boys left and the little dude continued with his skateboarding - no tears or unkind words, they just simply parted ways.

Later that evening I asked him why the boys left and he said that really they were only asking him to play because they wanted to borrow his stuff, so he told them that he would rather work on his skater moves. Then he followed it up by saying, "Mom I don't think I am going to invite (kid's name) to my birthday this year because he isn't really my friend - do you think he will be mad?" I told him that it was okay to give special privileges (like a birthday invitation or lending a toy) to his special friends, so long as he was still nice to everyone else and that sometimes when you aren't nice you stop getting those types of special privileges, so he should keep that in mind too. He kind of nodded and went about his business, and I sat back and thought about how grown up he is getting.

It was something else to watch him process the fact that he didn't have to play with someone who wasn't nice to him just because the opportunity was there, and he could say no without being mean. I was especially impressed by the fact that he was comfortable enough with himself to do so and continue playing on his own. Sniff,sniff ... it seems that my baby is growing up.

Little dude moment #2

Yesterday when I went to pick the little dude up from camp, we were driving out of the parking lot and stopped at a crosswalk for two pedestrians, one of whom was in a wheelchair. The little dude looked up from his Nintendo game just long enough to see why we were stopped and said, "Geez, there were a tonne of those people around the College today" - he has been at sports camps at a local College this summer.

Immediately my back went up and I felt the need to go into a lengthy explanation about how it was okay for people to be different and that there were lots of people who needed to be in wheelchairs and it didn't mean they weren't just people like him and me .... blah blah blah ... yadda yadda yadda ... high horse, moral pedestal, etc.

After listening to my mini-rant (without interrupting)the little dude looked at me quizzically and said, "Mom they were both wearing the same blue and white t-shirt - seriously if you go inside there are like 100 people wearing those shirts!" And there it was, a big huge piece of humble pie served up by my six year old ... I was the one who saw the wheelchair, he just wondered what t-shirt club they were part of.

In conclusion ...

All in all it was a good week, my little dude taught me a few things and gave me confidence that we are giving him the tools to live well.

If you are wondering what has been happening with monkey girl stop by next week ... I tend to post on Fridays :o)

Back in Business!!!

To all of my loyal blog viewers, I must apologize for the time gap since my last post. As I had mentioned in the Little Monsters post our family took a two week holiday, which was wonderful by the way, and when we got home there were some extended family issues that we needed to deal with. Those issues combined with full time jobs and raising monkey girl and the little dude, left little time for anything extra-curricular. With that said, these recent experiences (post-holiday) have given me the inspiration for the following post - please note that this is a more serious post than what I have previously written and I promise that my humour and sunshine are still present and will return in next week's post...

Being a parent is a funny thing. It is the one job that you have for an infinite amount of time, whether you are good at it or not. I have seen bumper stickers and t-shirts that say "I didn't choose my parents", and while that saying is funny and cheeky (and the people with the t-shirts and bumper stickers probably put them on in jest) it is also very true.

A child cannot "fire" their parents for doing a bad job. At best they can make a decision to do the job differently when the time comes, and in a less rosy scenario they can rebel like a fiend and take a negative path in their own life. As parents, we choose what kind of experience our children will have and the responsibility does not end when our children leave home, a parent-child relationship is the truest form of 'til death do us part that there is. Even the parents who leave their children have this responsibility because that decision to leave, regardless of how well-founded, will impact the rest of their child's life in a profound way (negative or positive).

Though I realize that there are exceptions to every rule, I think that for the most part children love their parents unconditionally and vice versa. I have been very fortunate in my life to have parents who have loved and supported me and my three siblings and continue to do so as we forge ahead in the "real world" as adults with lives and families of our own. We are truly blessed. Coming from this type of functionally dysfunctional (seems like an oxymoron but it is oddly accurate in the case of my family) background I have lived with a certain expectation of how a family is supposed to work and have tried, with my husband's support, to give my own children the same type of security within our family.

Recently, however, I have been witness to a sad situation where the roles of parent and child have been reversed - out of necessity - and the parent is having a hard time accepting the unconditional love of their child, unfortunately the result has been a lot of pain and suffering for everyone involved.

The details of the whos and whats in this story are not important, but rather the lessons that can be learned. This is what I have learned from the experience:

1. Love your children, and let them love you back because when it is all said and done that is what matters.
2. We don't get to choose our parents, or our children for that matter, but we are a part of them (it goes both ways) and therefore we need to try our best to let the part that we give be the best we have to offer.
3. Never forget that the decisions you make have a ripple effect - you are not alone in your happiness, sadness, sickness or accomplishments - so always consider the impact of your decisions on the people that you love (and who love you)

Elbert Hubbard once said that the love we give is the only love we keep - never stop giving your love away because it is always worthwhile, even if it doesn't seem like it at the time.

Well enough of my soapbox preachiness ....

Coming soon - some roses and sunshine from a revitalized supermom (I promise)!!

Little monsters

Arghhh ... I love my kids, I love my kids, I love my kids.

This was what I kept saying in my head as I rode into work this morning. It is not that I need to tell myself that I love my kids to make it so, it is just that some days are harder than others when it comes to parenting them.

I often find myself saying the same things over and over and over again, and I'm not sure if it is that they aren't listening or that they just don't care. Either way it is not good for my sanity and even my hubby has noticed lately that I seem to be losing my mind ... he actually told me this morning that the last couple of weeks have been worrisome to him because it has been understood for the duration of our 14 years together that he was in charge of the mind-losing department and I was the one who presided over balance and calm.

One would think that having someone you love tell you that you have a history of being balanced and calm would make you smile and swell with pride ... not me, this revelation sent me into a blubbering puddle of tears praying to God that my sanity would return so I could reclaim my post as the balanced one.

Last night I was talking to my mom about this and I said that the worst part about parenting challenges, especially when you are at work all day, is that you spend your whole day missing your kids like crazy and then when you finally get them all to yourself the mayhem begins. It makes my heart sick to think that they may wonder if all I do is yell.

In a perfect world kids would figure it out that if they if they listened all the time they would NEVER get in trouble ... isn't that an attractive option?!

These are the things that have sent me over the edge recently (please feel free to comment and tell me to settle the heck down) ...

Trials and tribulations of a little dude ...

My little dude is the sweetest little boy when it comes to most things, he is thoughtful, considerate, gentle, protective, and cautious (unless there is something where speed is involved). He lets the dog out and opens the car door for me every morning and he goes to bed when we ask him to ... for the most part he is quite delightful. The "dark side" to the little dude is that lately he needs to be doing something awesome and exciting at all times or he gets totally miserable.

For example, this past weekend we bought both of the kids a Nintendo DS - it seemed a little extravagant at first but it was a reward for being good (see list preceding "dark side"), and there was a bit of strategy involved as we are about to embark on a summer holiday that will involve A LOT of driving - so anyway, the little dude absolutely loved it (as did monkey girl) and the best part was that it was a total surprise. Life was good ... a new DS, a ball hockey tournament and a party with friends all in one weekend, woo hoo!

We thought that letting him buy his game on Sunday (with the $ that he had made Saturday helping his uncle) would be a great opportunity to fill the final day of the weekend with something exciting. So on Sunday afternoon, a very tired little dude became frustrated with his new game because he thought that I was winning (we were playing Super Mario Brothers and each of us was one brother) and he got completely miserable! Now I know that he was just frustrated because he was trying to learn something new, coupled with the fact that he is intensely competitive (which admittedly is a trait he got from his mother) - but the horrible mood that it sent him into was absolutely ridiculous. Finally we just had to have him put the game away and continue his sulking in silence.

I realize that I could have let it go, but it really irked me that after all the great things that he had experienced that weekend he was choosing to end it on such a bad note. So I ranted and raved about how lucky he was to have so much when there were others who had so little and told him that he needed to just turn his frown upsidedown (yes, I really said that) and be pleasant.

The result: he cried and apologized and I felt like the wicked witch of the southwest (we live in the southwest) for losing it. He is only six afterall, and we were all tired from a busy couple of days.

After this rollercoaster of emotion on Sunday, I promised to start fresh on Monday and then after dinner came and it was like history repeating itself.

Fun, fun, fun .... BANG - miserable kid.

I don't even know what happened. We had ridden our bikes, looked at puppies at the pet store, had ice cream for dessert ... it seemed as though we were on track for a happy ending to the day and then there were tears at bedtime (enhanced by the exact same conversation that we had had the day before ... ARGHHHH!!!!)

So today we have started fresh again and I have vowed to not raise my voice to the kids all day ... even if it requires me to go out and sit in my truck and scream just to get it out of my system.

Wish me luck.

Stubborn Monkey

Now monkey girl is also a wonderful child. She is bright and funny, she is mischievous yet sweet, she dances to whatever is on the radio and she knows when you need a hug. A great kid to say the least .... until bedtime that is.

Putting monkey girl to bed is a task like no other. Every night we read stories, give kisses and hugs and put the kids to bed at about 9:00 (this is their summer bedtime, 8:30 in the school year). They have to be up early so we really try to keep to the schedule during the week. However, monkey girl has a completely different agenda. She does not want to miss anything and has taken it upon herself to stay up as late as she possibly can every single night. Even when you think that she ought to be exhausted, she will pull out the special reserves and you can hear her playing in her room until at least 10:00. I always said that as long as she was just playing quietly it was not the end of the world, at least she was in her room. However the newest addition to her bedtime act is that she cries, she cries for: hugs, pee breaks, snacks, juice (no!!!), fear of bees and monsters and a variety of other things that I am too exhausted to list.

Two nights ago I went into her room over a dozen times before finally losing my mind!

If we close the door, she opens it. If we go downstairs to get away from the crying, she stands at the top of the stairs and bellows, if we yell, she yells louder ... it really is a frustrating problem because there is no apparent solution that does not involve sleeping with her.

Last night I finally just laid down with her until she started dozing off because I could NOT bear the thought of spending anymore energy running back and forth between the livingroom and her bedroom ... at 10:30!!!

Then magically overnight she becomes a pleasant little snugglebug again and we start each new day with hopes of a happy ending at bedtime.

The thing is ...

Usually there is some balance where behaviour issues are concerned, and I am okay when dealing with one disaster at a time, but when tag-teamed with separate issues I am finding myself to be less solid and am seriously considering removing the word multi-tasker from my resume. I just want my kids to know that I love them, and behave so that I can show them more often instead of yelling and banging my head against the wall.

I know that there will be bigger issues ahead (ie: adolesence) and I will look back and wonder why I thought this part was so hard ... but for now this is where I am, frustrated and in love ... it's like high school all over again.

All I can say for sure is that it is a good time to be going on holidays ... I think we all need a good dose of fun family time to put things into perspective.

I love my kids.

Watch for another post the week of August 11th ... I am sure that I will have some good stories after 15 nights of family fun in the trailer!!! :o)

Puddles

Let me start with a little background information ...

My little monkey girl has been known to occasionally wet the bed. She has been potty trained for going on 8 months now and, though she is a certified potty-star during the day, sometimes her love of juice catches up with her at night. A few months ago I was discussing this with a colleague of mine at work who has children of similar ages to mine and she had had the same experience with her second child (backing up a few years, I have to say that from the time my little dude started using a potty there was no turning back, so we never had the extra loads of laundry with him).

The advice that my friend gave me at the time was not to give anyone under four feet tall fluids after dinner. At first, even to me, it seemed an absurdly long time to go without fluids, and to monkey girl it seemed like the purest form of cruelty a parent could inflict upon a child. But as time went on we noticed that it REALLY worked. This new way of thinking about drinking became a new practice at our house for the most part however on the odd occasion an extra beverage sneaks its way into the hands of the monkey girl and we are reminded why we implemented the rule in the first place.

Now that you know the history, here is the reason that this post is called puddles ...

The other night monkey girl slipped into bed with my hubby and I at some point between 11:00 when we went to bed and 6:15 when we woke up. So in the morning when my hubby, who is not all that fond of sharing the bed with our little bed-hogging, kicks-people-in-her-sleep monkey girl, awoke to find himself in a puddle of urine, he was not impressed (to say the least).

The reaction ...

Now my hubby and I are different on many levels, and we learned this past week our reaction to being unwillingly drenched in bodily fluids is yet another difference that we have to learn to navigate in our marriage. With that said, the aftermath of the puddle incident went something like this: I jumped up, cleaned monkey girl and stripped the bed - all while trying very hard to keep to my strict workday timeline so that I could get out of the house by 7:40. Meanwhile my better half was taking his time in the shower (which was a little longer that morning) to really build up some emotion about being peed on.

By the time the shower turned off I had moved on from the pee and was onto my morning time mental check-list: sheets and duvet in the giant washing machine (aside: get a front loader if you can, it will save your sanity ... and possibly your marriage) - check, breakfast for the kids on the table - check, lunches made - check, dog outside for a pee - check. And then there was my hubby: "GRRRRRR" followed by "You cannot pee the bed, seriously monkey girl we will have to put you back in pull-ups if you continue with this behaviour - is that what you want!?!"

The reaction to the reaction:

It was at that moment that I stopped my morning routine and said something to the effect of, "It wasn't her fault ... calm down" - truth be told it may have been my fault as there was obviously an extra bevvie ingested at some point the night before, and I was home alone with the kids.

The result of my mid-rant comment was that my hubby left for work angry at being peed on and doubly angry at me for not supporting his anger at being peed on. Yikes!

The lesson ...

There was nothing left to be said after the door closed, quite loudly, so I carried on and got the kids out the door and off to childcare. I mulled the situation over on my way in to work on the bus that morning and came to the following conclusion: we were both justified in our opinions (mine being: nothing is going to change that she peed, so let's just not juice her up at bedtime in the future, and his being: being peed on is gross)

However, I should have seen his side a little more clearly and saved the rationalizing for once the pee smell was aired out of our room.

Supermom commentary ...

As parents we seem to be built with a protective instinct when it comes to our kids. So when someone else, even if that someone is our partner, criticizes our lovely offspring we automatically go on the defensive.

I would be willing to bet that this very instinct is the cause of at least 80% of the disagreements that my hubby and I have had since we have had children. We accuse each other of not being supportive or showing a united front in reactive situations like this one. When one of us is mad the other always seems to be acting as an advocate for the little people (except when the little dude thought it was funny to spit at people and got a time out at daycare ... there was no little person advocate in that case - it was just plain wrong!!! But that is a post for another time).

We seem to be on the same page when it comes to the big issues, it is just the piddly little incidents like this one that send us over the edge. The funny thing is that by the time I was done advocating and my hubby was done venting, monkey girl didn't even remember wetting the bed and our little dude was just wondering why everyone woke up in a bad mood on a sunny day.

Conclusion ...

So, I will continue to work on to being a little more supportive and a little less defensive in these situations and I, all these crazy parenting follies aside, I will tell my hubby more often that he is a wonderful dad and that we are in this together ... I may even down the road admit that it is okay to get mad when you get peed on.

Here is an article on mothering by Anna Quindlen (columnist and author) that was passed on to me through an email. Take a moment to read it ~ it's a good one:

All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach., T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, have all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations --what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2. When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever- shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing.Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub- quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China . Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk too.Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the 'Remember-When- Mom-Did Hall of Fame.' The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barrelling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, 'What did you get wrong?'. (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night.I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less. Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

It's the little things ...

If you have been keeping up with my posts thus far you may have noticed a trend of slight frustration .... so I thought I should put a warm and fuzzy post in for good measure (and of course because I REALLY love being a mom and wouldn't trade the tantrums and tattling for anything in the world).



So this past weekend we were busy, as per usual, we had house cleaning, garage saling and a kiddie pool party on the schedule for Saturday followed by relatives in town, shopping for a birthday present, a baby shower and a birthday party on Sunday. Actually now that I read this over I realize why I am sitting at my desk on this lovely Monday morning wishing that I could take my coffee by IV rather than drinking it from a silly little cup!!!



In any case, as of late I have been slightly concerned that my children, precious as they are, may not be as polite as other children. I sometimes notice that while my nieces and nephew are saying please and thank you my children appear on my heels foaming at the mouth like rabid dogs demanding rather than asking politely for the large variety of things that they "need" in a day. Other people often tell me that they are very polite and quite lovely to take care of, but I find that the comfort level of being at home means that the extra effort of a please or a thank you is often not expended and I have to say, it makes me a little bit crazy.



(Don't worry the warm and fuzzy part is coming)



So, during our garage saling expedition on Saturday morning we ran across a sale (actually put on by friends of ours) who were selling a scooter with big wheels and a hand brake that a certain little dude had his eye on. Plus, they had an entire Dora the Explorer set complete with a two story house, all of the beloved characters (save for Swiper that sneaky fox who needn't be there anyway!!!), a backyard play set AND a van to transport Dora's whole family around in. My sweet little monkey girl sat there looking at the Dora house longingly, but then to my surprise willingly got into the car without asking for it and we carried on to the bank machine to grab some cash for the scooter.



From the backseat I heard monkey girl say, "I wanted that Dora house" to her brother the little dude and that was all that was said of it. And his reaction was minimal at best as he was pretty stoked about the scooter in the back of the car.


When we went back to pay to the sale I got out alone and slid my friend the cash for both the scooter and the Dora set, walked by the car and and put Dora's house in the back without saying a word. Monkey girl saw it and lit right up ... and I just smiled and got back in the car. When I got home we set up the kiddie pool in preparation for an afternoon of splashing in the backyard, then I walked to the front of the house to talk to my hubby and the little dude scooted by and gave a big grin and a thank you that made up for the "I NEED some juice" and "Can't YOU just let the dog out" that had come from those same lips earlier that morning.

Feeling quite satisfied with the gratitude shown by my little dude, I went inside in search monkey girl and found her in her room quietly playing with her new Dora set. I paused, unnoticed, at the door and watched her for a few minutes and then went on to tackle the laundry that I had spent much of the past week trying to escape.



As I was separating the big shorts from the little shorts, I felt two little arms wrapped around me from behind and I turned around to find the monkey girl, Dora in hand, looking up and saying, "Mommy, I love you sooo much". Then as quickly as she had appeared she disappeared back into her bedroom to get her swimsuit on.

I stood there for a moment a little overwhelmed by how emotional I was feeling and thought about how many ways there are to say thank you. So as it turns out, these two little people are perfect just the way they are ... even if they do save their best manners for a greater audience.

**Please note that I have a vault full of many touching stories where equal gratitude was shown without a toy involved, but this one is still fresh and I felt that it needed to be told :o)

The things you regret ...

Have you ever said something to your child in anger (or jest) that you just simply regret saying? I did this last night and it has made me think of how ironic it is that the people in your life that you would lay down and die for are often the ones who get that short end of your personality stick.

Last night bedtime came after a long day, by 8 o'clock I had gone to work, attended a wake, and had an impromptu dinner party with my sister and her family followed by a visit from my parents who came for dessert. Really it was a good day (even the wake was good because it was people coming together to share good memories), so I don't know why I decided to end it with a freak-out, something that, regrettably, is not all that uncommon when I am over-tired.

Once everyone had gone home and the kitchen was clean, there we were: monkey girl, the little dude and mommy all snug as bugs in my bed reading stories, and then it happened ... misbehaving by the kidlets followed by nothing less than a tantrum courtesy of mommy.

When I think of it now, it was not the end of the world that they chose picking at each other over listening to the stories, but at the time I was furious and said something to the effect of, "If you would rather your dad just put you to bed and skip time with mommy altogether that is fine by me ... WHY DON'T YOU TWO EVER LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER?????"

Before it was even out of my mouth I desperately wanted to take it all back, but there I was saying it anyway. You see the kids had spent the night with Nana and Papa over the weekend and had desperately missed their daddy (and no I did not forget to type and mommy) and even though my intelligent self knows that I am 32 and they are 3 and 6 ... my less intelligent and more emotional self was quite hurt that they didn't miss their mommy (and no I did not forget to type too). As much as I love my husband and agree that he is indeed a wonderful father, it turns out that I am quite selfish and wanted to be the MOST missed during our evening apart.

With all of that background information you are probably now acutely aware of the fact that my asking my sweet (though mischievous) children if they wanted their dad to just put them to bed was a form of punishment for not missing me more ... I know what you are thinking ... you are not a supermom at all (and I agree).

Now, I know that I can't be too hard on myself for saying something out of turn, but the problem is that once you say something it is out there. My kids may not even remember that I was petty and immature last night, but I do, and I have taken it upon myself to spend the next four days (in hopes of forming a habit - see vacation bedtimes post for explanation) to closely filter the things that pop up in my brain before allowing them to exit my mouth.

When my sisters and brother and I were accused of being meanies as children my dad would ask us: " Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary?" and if what we had said was not all three of these things then chances were that we shouldn't have said it at all.

As annoying as those questions were as a child, it turns out that they may just be words to live by. Imagine how the world would change if we all thought about the things that we said before we said them, instead of counting on a chance to ask for forgiveness later.

In the end, I did apologize to my kids and explained (AGAIN) that pinching each other when mommy is reading is not good storytime behaviour, and this morning we were all up and ready for a new day at 6:15 a.m., but on this new day I am grateful for all of the wonderful blessings in my life - and even when those blessings pinch and jump and interrupt I will take it with a grain of salt and remember to ask my dad's famous questions before misbehaving myself.

Bribery ... a nasty word for a handy tool

Have you ever spoken to someone who says that they would NEVER bribe their child into behaving? Well let me tell you, I have and it seems to me that there are a couple of things that these "types" have in common. Either 1. Their children cannot yet walk or talk (whining is not really whining if you cannot understand the general message) or 2. Their children are still theoretical ... and naturally their parenting will be highly evolved by the time they have to deal situations where us common-folk resort to bribery.

I know this because I was once an almost-parent and went on to pass even more judgement on the parenting skills of others back when I became a new parent and my little dude's only rebellion consisted of spitting up on his freshly washed onesie, so I do not fault any of these "types" ... it is a natural progression and their time for eating crow will come about two and a half years after they cross over into parentdom.

AN EXAMPLE TO PROVE MY FORMER IGNORANCE:

I remember back when my neice was two and my little dude was just about one ... at the time I thought that the "terrible twos" were something that were within a parents' control and that my son would NEVER act out, and certainly not in public! My poor sister would buy her daughter off with the promise of a Dora episode or an icecream and I would smile sweetly while secretly vowing that these tactics would not be part of my unique parenting style.

Then a year later my little dude turned two and it was suddenly apparent to me that my sister was an amazing mother, and I desperately needed her help to find out what tricks she found most effective when bribing her toddler who was starting to act more rational as she got a little older. To this day I wheel and deal with both of my children in a grand attempt to keep them on the "will babysit list" with local teens in my neighbourhood.

WISE WORDS FROM A PRO:

The topic of bribery came up in a conversation with my mom (supermom of four) awhile back and she said that every time she took my brother out when he was a toddler she would buy his good behaviour with a Hot Wheels car ... a fact that makes me laugh because my brother has gone through life with a reputation for being a kid that never caused any problems and if you go into my parents' basement there are probably 200 Hot Wheels cars that DO NOT belong to his three older sisters!!! :o)

TIP FOR PARENTS OF POST TODDLERS:

I do have a modified-bribery tip for those of you who have young school aged children who have learned the cause and effect lesson that you were trying to teach them with "good behaviour treats" as a toddler and now need to learn that good things come to those who wait. Try getting your little person to set a goal of something that s/he REALLY wants (within reason) and have them complete chores and tasks to work towards getting it.

For example my little dude is a HUGE Calgary Flames fan and an even bigger Dion Phaneuf (Flames defenseman) fan, so my husband and I made a deal with him that once he had earned it we would take him to buy a Phaneuf jersey (Jersey = $200 shirt for a 6 year old!!!! He needed to work for this one!) So he started off with $25 that he had gotten for his birthday and did chores like feeding the dog, making his bed or keeping an eye on his sister and cousin in the basement when we had company for $1-$3 per task (watching monkey girl is worth a little more than feeding our pooch) until he had enough to buy the jersey. It took just over two months and we tracked his progress on our fridge calendar. Good behaviour was rewarded, lots of extra stuff around the house got done after only one ask and the best part was how proud he was when he got his jersey. This may have been my first WIN-WIN agreement ever!

Short term gain, long term pain ... a tale of "vacation bedtimes"

Well the long weekend was an overwhelming success by many measures . . . 10 kids, more than 10 adults, a beach and 5 acres of rolling green grass to run and play. It was perfect save for the classic mistake that, like being frustrated when shopping, I am almost certain that I will make again. Here is my tale . . .

When it comes to sleep patterns and children it is commonly said that it takes four days to establish a pattern and one day to break one. I don't know who the brilliant behaviourist who came up with this formula is, but as someone in her seventh year of motherhood I must say that, though completely unfair, it seems to be true. In fact, I proved it once again for good measure this past weekend.

On Friday night we arrived at the lake just before 8:00 PM (on a weeknight at home this is when we are usually getting out of the tub and climbing into bed for storytime). It had been a long week at work coupled with a long drive out and both my husband and I were completely focused on setting up the campsite, making the kids a hot dog and grabbing ourselves a cold beverage so that we could settle in and visit with our friends.

You may have noticed that in that laundry list of priorities, stories and bedtime do not even make an appearance - there is a reason for this, and the reason is that those two very important weeknight priorities were the furthest things from our "vacation mode" minds. In fact our mindset was so relaxed that we thought it was a great idea to keep the kids up late because they would inevitably sleep in the next morning as a reward for our kindness (WARNING: this trick has only just started working now that our youngest is 3.5. DO NOT try this with younger crack-of-dawn-loving children because IT WILL BACKFIRE and you WILL have a miserable little troll who wakes up at their regular time and punishes you for the remainder of the day for your mis-step).

So, the kids continued to play well into the late evening and we enjoyed the company of our friends and bevvies and hot dogs by the fire. A couple of hours later the kids were right tuckered out and went to bed relatively easily so, in light of the success of this pilot project, we continued the pattern for the duration of our stay ... which was four nights (if you refer back to the pattern formula you will understand why this is not a good thing).

On Tuesday, four nights of 10:30 bedtimes later, we decided not to rush out and get in one more day at the beach before making the trek home. So at 5:30 we hit the road and as our rational brains slowly started to re-emerge we realized that we had made a rookie mistake. Not only had we altered our children's sleeping patterns (possibly indefinitely) but we had just loaded two beached out, played out and generally worn out kids into our vehicle for a two and a half hour car ride home. A sick feeling came over me at the moment I realized what we had done ... we had created the recipe for the perfect storm.

Keeping them awake in the truck would not only be difficult, but if they were as exhausted as I was we would not want to be driving down the highway with them grumpy and awake. So we opted to continue with our newly found pattern of haphazard parenting and let them sleep, knowing full well that when we got home, bedtime was going to be a nightmare.

I should say that my son, who is six, was really good about trying to stay awake and watch his movie and he only drifted off briefly during the last leg of our trip. Monkey-girl fell asleep early on but she had played hard for the full 96 hours since our arrival (or so it seemed) and did deserve a rest - I just wish it hadn't been from 6 - 8 PM on the night before we had to re-start our weekday morning routine.

We rolled into town around 8:00 PM and shuffled our sleeping beauties into the tub, complete with lavender to encourage more sleeping, and then attempted to restart the regular bedtime wind-down routine. To make a long story short the little dude finally tuckered out at 10:00 PM*, my husband hit the hay at 11:00 PM and monkey-girl decided that she was ready to go back to sleep just after midnight* ... at which point this supermom fell asleep on top of the covers, fully dressed. 6:15 came pretty darn early on Wednesday for all of us!

Much to my chagrin our second night home was only slightly more reasonable than the first, sleep came to each child one hour earlier than it had the night before. I can only hope that by tonight they will be tired enough from their 6:15 starts to slip back into their earlier, more reasonable routine ... which of course will be just in time for a weekend full of BBQs and birthday parties which equal more late nights (though not nearly as late)! And so it begins again .... wish me luck!

*Just a note to let readers know that I cannot complain too much because both the little dude and monkey-girl stay in their rooms once they are put to bed ... and they are pretty cute, I just want them to get their rest so their days can be as full of fun as they can be.

This was just one small aspect of an otherwise eventful weekend, we also had one black eye, a bloody nose, birthday cake, beach fun and some wagon rides down a grassy hill - lots of fun! We are a lucky bunch.

Toddler shopping

Last night my hubby and I met for dinner, perused the year-end report card of our son (BTW - it was outstanding and he passed Kindergarten with flying colours), and split off (each with one child in tow) to complete our respective errands for the upcoming long weekend camping trip. As the professional shopper in the family, I was nominated to get groceries, beer and gas - which sadly cost more than the beer and only slightly less than the groceries (but that is an entry for another time)!!!

So my three and a half year old daughter and I jumped in the truck after she gulped down half of a root beer - which is a special last day of school treat as pop does not make regular appearances in our fridge at home - and went on our merry way. We cranked up the Crazy Frog made our way to the local Superstore where we could make all three stops in one parking lot.

Now, I have to backtrack a wee and tell you that my husband and I had a conversation earlier in the day about the woes of shopping with a toddler - I said it takes twice as long to get finished and he said that he would take both kids but she would be sad for the entire time that I was gone (or at least the first five minutes) - so in the end I caved at the thought of those big hazel eyes tearing up and brought the little monkey along for a Superstore adventure.

Upon arrival in the Superstore complex of stops I filled up my gas guzzling SUV - which gave my tiny passenger enough time to doze off - and then I peeled her from her booster seat and attempted to sneak her into the child seat at the front of the shopping cart before she was aware enough to know that I was confining her to a place where it would be impossible to run freely. For the first 30 seconds or so she was completely content ... and then she opened her eyes and "re-negotiated" her position.

The funny thing about negotiating with a three year old is that they ALWAYS win. If you stick to your guns, they cry and repeatedly ask to do it their way until you are on the brink of certifiably insanity, and if you give in from the get-go the chase is on and you are left feeling a little defeated.

Now I have to say that my little monkey is a reasonably well-behaved child but no amount of parenting (or none that I have witnessed to this point) can prevent a three year old from being three. They are just curious, independent little people that cannot help but being on their own unique schedule. With that said, this innate understanding that I seem to have of the three year old psyche does not prevent me from occasionally being in a rush of my own and not taking time to fully appreciate the need for multiple trips to the washroom and "touch and smell" breaks in every aisle ... at every store.

In any case, we made it past the toy section and through the meat section with a relatively small number of extra stops and explanations of why we don't get a toy every time we leave the house and that we cannot, as a family, live purely on chocolate milk and donut holes. Then it happened, at the top of the condiment aisle another little person planted herself right smack in front of my cart and decided to take a self-imposed time out. Her poor mother had the instantly recognizable look of a supermom who was super-exhausted, and amidst my insistence that this was not a big deal I felt a calm wash over me because I was not alone. Toddlers everywhere were causing their mother's to look like panic-stricken maniacs in shopping centers all over and that is the way it was supposed to be. That mom would get through her shopping trip, and like me, she would go home and look in on her sleeping toddler later that night and be thankful for being so blessed.

My trip to Superstore did take twice as long as it would have had I gone on my own - and I will get frustrated the next time I'm sure - but sometimes it is good to reflect for a moment and just let them be little. Who is it hurting if you need to make an extra stop and spend some time looking at Dora the Explorer stuff? Or if you go to the washroom three times just to find out (and then confirm) what colour of soap they have in the dispenser that week?

My younger brother moved overseas this week and as the last of four kids to leave home it has rocked my parents' world. I was talking to my mom last night and she said - through her tears - that intellectually she knows that at 23 he was bound to leave sometime, but there had always been someone there besides her and my dad and this was going to be a hard transition. Time goes quickly, before I know it the Kindergarten graduation will be a high school graduation and shopping with my daughter will consist of me dropping her off at the front of the mall - so it probably wouldn't hurt to stop and enjoy the wonders of being a kid once in awhile. After all they aren't kids for very long.

And so it begins . . .

I am 32 have two beautiful (when they are sleeping) children, a husband of almost 10 years (also on his best behaviour when he is sleeping!!!) and a full time middle management position at a local College. During my "me time" - the 30 minutes to and from work on the bus each weekday - I decided that it would be fun to share a commentary of my secret life as a supermom with the world. This is a place where I will tell you about the books that I have read, the strategies - successful and otherwise - that I am using, crazy stories about life as a mom and the occasional recipe and random thought. Please feel free to post your own sanity secrets and random thoughts as often as you like. Being a mom is the most rewarding and difficult job that any of us will ever have so let's look at the position with some humour and compassion and help each other be the best moms we can be.