It started out as one of those days ...

I yelled at the kids because they were either under my feet and too demanding of my attention or because they were nowhere near me and completely unresponsive to my hollering for their attention.

My hair dryer started smoking ...

I dropped mango on my skirt ...

The kids and I argued ... a lot ...

We argued about breakfast ... at my frustration over the never ending feeding trough that occasionally occurs on those rarest of mornings when my kids (Elliot in particular) have "bottomless pit syndrome".  So we argued about why NO to another pear means NO.  (I was trying to avoid a mid-school-morning pooping session.)

We argued about why the kids were not allowed to go outside and ride the "little scooter" while I was trying to wrestle Charlotte into her coat simultaneously trying to avoid her sharp biting teeth.  (Charlotte has turned into a pint sized vampire and is currently biting anything that crosses in front of her face - including, but not limited to, cheeks, fingers, shoulders, arms, noses and ... bums.)  The boys went outside anyway and proceeded to argue about the "little scooter" which resulted in my "loosing the plot" as Luke likes to say.

I screamed at them to come back inside and ended my five to ten minute rant with "Mommy is VERY STRESSED OUT ..."

( ... a concept that is lost on a nine and four year old ...)

Halfway to the boys school I realized I'd left my lunch at home.  My choices were to drag all the kids home again (making us all very very late); send Luke and Elliot the remainder of the way to school alone (they probably would have been abducted); or sit on the sidewalk and cry.  I was just about to curl up on the pavement and have a good solid breakdown when Luke volunteered to run back to the house and get my lunch.  So, feeling somewhat ashamed that I was using my son's youth to my advantage and praying that he wouldn't meet some nefarious creature on the way into our house, I sent him running down the street with my keys to fetch my forgotten lunch.

This set Elliot off because he wanted to be a big boy and walk to school with Luke so despite my "getting a grip" on my own emotions, tears were still shed on the corner in front of the crossing guard who seemed not the least bit sympathetic to my obvious state of complete chaos and misfortune.

Elliot's crying agitated Charlotte and for whatever reason she bit herself on the hand, and, looking entirely confused, starting crying also.

I was just about to admit defeat and call in a mental health day when Luke appeared running up the street ... lunch and keys in hand.

He was extremely proud of himself.  I was too.

Elliot and Charlotte were still crying, so, feeling tentatively victorious that at least one thing had worked out, I told Elliot that if he could calm down a bit, maybe he and Luke could walk part of the way together without me.  He brightened significantly at this and we proceeded towards the school.  At one point I stopped and looked at Luke and Elliot and asked if they thought they could walk up the street to the school from where we were on their own.

Elliot was overcome with excitement and kept saying over and over "like a big boy? like a really big boy? I'm big now, right?"  

I assured him that we was indeed a very big boy and his wonderful, helpful big brother would take him to school.  He needed no further prompting and putting his backpack on thrust his hand into Luke's hand and said, "bye Mommy."

As I watched them walk up the road I prayed that all my mistakes and words I shouldn't have said to them that morning would be forgotten and they'd just remember that Mommy loved them and trusted them enough to let them go alone.

PS ... as I was praying and reflecting and watching the boys walk away, my heart full of love for my two big independent boys, Luke stopped and ran back and said, "don't worry Mommy, if anyone tries to take Elliot I have my skates with me and I'll take one out and slash them with it." 

 

Humpty Revisited

While walking to school on Monday Elliot was reciting the classic nursery rhyme "Humpty Dumpty" - this is Elliot's version ... 

"Humpty Dumpty sat on a WAAAALLL

Humpty Dumpty sat on a WAAAALLL

Humpty Dumpty had to FALL

All the ladies and the MAAAN and the horse

TRIED and TRIED but they didn't put ...

They couldn't put Sir Cumfrey TOGETHER

So ..... the ladies and the MAAAN and the horse

TRIED .... Sir Cumfrey was broken ..." 

(PAUSE) 

"Mommy?" 

"Yes Elliot?" 

"What is Humpty Dumpty about?" 

"Well, it's a nursery rhyme about a man who happens to be an egg and he's sitting on top of a very high wall." 

"Why is he on top of the wall?"  (Because Elliot is four years old and of course a four year old has no problem with an egg man as long as he's not sitting on top of a wall ...)

"Um, well, I'm not sure - it's just part of the story.  So, the story is about this man, who is an egg, who is on this high wall and one day he falls off the wall and because he's an egg and he's so fragile he breaks into thousands of tiny pieces.  And there are so many pieces that the King's Men couldn't put him back together.  He was really broken." 

"WEEELLLLL, but what is the story ABOUT?" 

"I think it's a story meant to remind little boys and little girls that they shouldn't sit on top of very high things because they might fall off and get very hurt and be really broken.  And sometimes when we make silly choices and do things that are dangerous we can get hurt and sometimes we can get so hurt we can't be fixed."  (I say this to him because I'm a Mom and I take every opportunity to remind my children that our choices have consequences.) 

"Um ......... OR it's a story about you shouldn't fall OFF the wall." 

(Pause) 

"Sir Cumfrey should have had a helmet on."

Good Faith, Good Reason ...

I was unable to write for a long time.  I couldn't form thoughts.  Creativity was at a standstill.

I kept looking for stories, for inspiration, and my kids gave me so much to draw from ... but it wasn't enough.

Trying to write with three kids, work, housework, other activities just wasn't feasible ... writing was a luxury I couldn't afford.  I made myself a promise however, that I would write should anything "write worthy" happen.

And it happened.  Yesterday.

Elliot (formally known as "Bruce Lee") was in the van with my husband after school and he said he saw God.

Just like that.  Just matter of fact.

Curtis asked him what he meant and Elliot replied, "I saw God walking with a man."

Elliot explained that God was with the man because the man needed help, so God was with him.  And then Elliot just stopped talking and put his thumb in his mouth and looked out the window again.

When I got into the van a few minutes later Curtis told me that Elliot saw God.

"Really, buddy,  you did!?!" I said.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, "he was walking with the man, because the man needed help, so he was walking with the man because he was God."

I had no words so I said nothing ...

Then a few moments later ... "Mommy???"

"Yes Elliot?"

"Does God have a walking stick?"

"Um ... probably, maybe, I don't know?" (Was my brilliant response ...)

"Yeah, yeah, he does.  I think he does, because when God was with the man he had a big stick and so God has a big walking stick."

And in went the thumb again and he quietly looked out the window, completely confident that there is a higher power taking care of us.

Just walking around.

Ready to be seen by those of us who are looking.

And His name is God.

Bruce Lee on the Baby Einstein DVD (Mozart):


"I like this show.  It is not too scary for me.  Scooby Doo is too scary for me.  This is not too scary for me.  Ok Mommy?  Ok?  I can watch this movie because it is not too scary for me."


"OK buddy ... so you want to watch this and you don't want to watch Scooby Doo, right?" 


"Yeah.  I don't like Scooby Doo.  But I like Scooby Doo when it's not too scary.  But (Jackie Chan) watch Scooby Doo and he's bigger so he's not too scared."


"Yeah ... Jackie Chan can watch stuff and it doesn't scare him the way it would scare you.  I get it.  We can just watch this DVD where the music plays and the toys just do their thing and some puppets come out.  It's all very exciting."


"Uh huh.  I like it Mommy.  I like this one.  It's good for me.  Oh ... (laughing) ... look at that!  The puppet sticks his tongue out and says 'blah'.  It's funny Mommy.  Not scary"


"Yes buddy ... very funny.  Very NOT scary.  I'm glad you like it."


"Yeah, I like it.  It's not too scary for me."


"Good."


Two minutes later:


"Um, Mommy, I want to watch something else.  I don't like this movie now."


"Sure, what do you want to watch?"


"Uh ... uh ... uh ... Scooby Doo!!!!"

Hair

I can't focus on work.

I'm accomplishing nothing today.

Probably because it's the day after Halloween and I ate a LOT of chocolate yesterday.

And drank a lot of orange juice.

Or perhaps it's because baby Charlotte is moving about like crazy today and seems to have developed a bad case of the hiccups - possibly due to all the chocolate and orange juice - and the rhythmic bumping and jerking (while lovely) is seriously distracting.

It may be that my maternity pants are too big and keep sliding down every time I stand up taking my equally useless and uncomfortable maternity underwear down with them forcing me to do a weird "pant & and underwear pull up jig" every time I need to step away from my desk ... which is a lot ... so instead I'm just sitting at my desk trying to find something to do that won't require me to stand up.  Ever.

Or it could simply be that the temperature in my office is currently sitting somewhere around the thirty-eight degree Celsius mark and my nose and eyelids are perspiring.

All of the above seem to be contributing nicely toward me NOT getting anything done.

So I'm just sitting here thinking instead.

And reflecting on my wonderful, nutty, weekend ...

Jackie Chan's hair was out of control.  And so was our house.  Both of these items related because they showed serious neglect on the part of Curtis and I.

So on Saturday I stayed home and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned.  I needed to.  Early nesting I suppose.  (That and my Mom is coming on Friday and I didn't think she needed to add "potential level two hording at daughters house" to the list of things she worries about in the wee small hours of the morning.)

And Curtis took the boys to run errands and to take Jackie Chan to get his hair cut.

Huge mistake.  Huge.

When they got home I took one look at Jackie Chan and very nearly died.  It was the Worst. Cut. Ever.

If I was blindfolded, on a roller coaster, with dull kitchen scissors and stumps for hands, I could have done a better job.

I yelled a bit.  At Curtis.  Because I needed to vent and he was there and the idiot who'd butchered my child's hair wasn't.

And then I called and yelled at the place where Jackie Chan's hair massacre had just taken place.

And then we got him an appointment where I go to get my hair done.  An emergency appointment.

He's eight.

But bad haircuts are traumatic and Jackie Chan had ALREADY been a victim of one traumatic hair cutting fiasco this year and two in the span of a year is just too much for anyone to handle.

So off we went to the appointment and he now has the best hair he's ever had.

And Jackie Chan has since informed Curtis and I that he would like to continue to see "so-and-so" at "such-and-such a salon" because "he clearly knows what he's doing and knows how to do MY hair right."


Yup.  Jackie Chan is eight and now goes to a salon - where he has his own personal hairstylist - to get his hair cut.


I realize that many of you will think this is all just a bit ridiculous, but what can I say ....


... it would seem as though the times, well, they are a changin' ...

Halloween is two days away.

Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee are beyond excited. We will be escorting a little "Thomas the Train" and "Robin (from Teen Titans)" around the neighbourhood.

Halloween is two days away.

But there are celebrations to be had before the big day - at school and at daycare.  And it seems that the majority of my time the last two days has been spent on conversations about Halloween.

On Thursday - while I was going to the bathroom (you may or may not recall my post about how Mom's have ZERO privacy) - Jackie Chan opened the door and said, "is today the Halloween Parade at school?"


"Jackie Chan, how the heck am I supposed to know if the Halloween Parade is today?  Did you listen to the announcements?  Did your teacher say anything?  And really, could that question not have waited five minutes, I'm kinda in the middle of something right now ...."


"Yeah, but, there wasn't any announcements.  And my teacher didn't say when it was ... she just said there would be a parade sometime."


"I find it somewhat hard to believe that the school would plan a Halloween Parade and not tell the students when it was happening - that's kinda counterproductive."


"What?  What's counterproductive?"


"Never mind.  Do grade three's still go on parade around the school?  I thought it was just the kindergartners that did that."


"Nope ... the grade three's too ..."


"Well ... it's Thursday so I imagine that if there WAS going to be a massive Halloween Parade around your school it would probably be tomorrow."


"Why?  What's tomorrow?"


"Really???"


"WHAT??!!"


"Tomorrow is Friday.  So they'll probably have the parade on Friday.  Can I finish doing what I need to do in here in private now please buddy?"


"Um, but, can I just bring a costume just in case?"


"Sure ... whatever.  Just please get out of the bathroom."


"Ok ... can I bring my stormtrooper costume from last year?"


"Whatever!!! I need you to leave NOW!!!!"


"Ok, OK, I'm going ..."


And yesterday I thought I'd surprise the kids with a little pre-Halloween treat and bought them each a Kinder Surprise Egg.  I spent the better part of the evening listening to Bruce Lee talk about the Kinder Surprise Egg and how he was going to eat it and how he wanted to eat Jackie Chan's too and how it wasn't his only treat and that he was still going Trick 'or Treating even though he had a treat already and how he was going to get it out of the box and take the "skin" off so he could eat the chocolate and then he would ask Mommy to help him make the toy so he could show Daddy and Jackie Chan when they got home that he had a toy and wasn't Mommy nice for getting him a treat before Halloween and how Jackie Chan may not even want to eat his (to which I replied - "for the last time Bruce Lee you are NOT eating Jackie Chan's egg ... let it GO") ....


It really is amazing how many consecutive hours a two year old can spend in constant speech...


... about a Kinder Egg.


This morning the Halloween saga continued.


Bruce Lee was supposed to wear a costume to daycare.  I couldn't find an old costume for him to wear this morning and I wasn't risking the mass destruction of his Thomas the Train costume so I sent him without one thinking it wasn't a big deal.


But when I saw all the other kids sitting around and arriving in FULL costume - some even adorned with face paint and hair colour - I felt sick.  Worst. Mother. Ever.


I felt worse when the teachers all said ... don't worry, we'll find something he can wear so he doesn't feel out of place ... 


Right.  So I'm now the "Mom who doesn't have time to do special things for her kids so the teachers will take pity and intervene."  Fantastic.


So at the risk of having to wait in the "it's-a-Friday-and-its-the-end-of-the-month" line up at the bank I went to Shoppers to see if I could buy Bruce Lee a cheap costume.  


Three minutes later ... spider costume - size one and praying it would fit - in hand ... I ran back to the daycare to show Bruce Lee that his Mommy wasn't a total failure.


The kids were outside so I just left it with the teacher and begged her to put it on him for me and tell him it was from his Mommy.


And then I cried in the bathroom.  Because I'm pregnant.  And I felt like I'd let him down.  Because he deserved to have a fun costume on for the day with face paint and funky hair.  And because I work and I'm tired and there just aren't enough hours in the day I let my little buddy down and I wondered for the nine-hundredth time this month just how parents balance work and life.  


And I know I need to stop beating myself up because I'm not my Mom and I don't have time to make super-awesome homemade Halloween costumes, and sandwiches with ghosts made of marshmallows with chocolate chips for eyes, but I know how special those memories are to me and I can't help but wonder what memories I'm making for my kids ...


A much too-small spider costume brought in as an afterthought?  An impatient conversation about a school Halloween Parade while I'm trying to go to the bathroom?


I just pray that despite all my mistakes as a parent that at the end of each day they go to bed knowing how much Mommy and Daddy love them.  I guess that's all I can do.

Random thoughts with Jackie Chan ...

Thursday was a rainy, cold, miserable day.

On the way to school Jackie Chan starts up another one of his random conversations with me...

"Um Mommy."

"Yes buddy, what's up?"

"I don't like flip-flops."

"Ok.  Jackie Chan, it's raining and cold and you're wearing boots ... what made you think of that?"

"I don't know.  I just don't like flip-flops.  I don't like that people can see your feet."

"Hmmm."

"I would like flip-flops if you could wear them and there was a barrier that covered over your feet."

"Well, those would be sandals."

"No, no.  Not like that.  I would like flip-flops but if there was something covering my feet so that I couldn't see my feet but to everyone else they just looked like flip-flops."

"You don't like looking at your own feet?"

"Nope."

"But you're not bothered by other people seeing your feet in flip-flops?"

"Nope."

"Huh.  Well one day when you're a famous, rich, scientist - like Tony Stark - you can invent those and you can wear flip-flops as often as you want."

"Yup."

We kept walking in the rain a bit more, and then ...

"Um, Mommy..."

"Yes buddy?"

"I like Crocs because they are flip-flops but without the thing between your toes in the middle AND they are covered."

"Hmm ... that would pretty much make them sandals, wouldn't it?"

"I guess so, but not really because they are really more like flip-flops.  I don't have to invent special flip-flops to wear because I can just wear Crocs."

"Well ... glad we got that all sorted.  In October.  In the rain.  On the way to school.  And when you become a famous, rich, scientist - like Tony Stark - you can devote your time to inventing useful things like strollers that you can push through the snow properly."

"Yeah.  But I wouldn't invent that because that's boring to invent."

"Right.  Boring.  Not at all like semi-invisible flip-flops which have already been invented ... CROCS!"

"YUP!"

I know I'm going to miss these conversations in a few years.