A Milk-Cam: An Idea Whose Time Has Come

The ubiquitous milk container.  It doesn't look like the one I have at my house though.  Do you know why?  Because somebody filled it up and cut the end open!

At my house, the milk bag always looks like this:



Empty!

And, worse yet, apparently no one knows who emptied it and didn't replace it.

I have decided extreme measures are necessary.

We need a milk container cam.  It would change everything.

Who's with me?

I Want to be Like Him, Too!

After a hike, I took my daughter and her friend out for ice cream.  They each got a large cone and we sat in the store while they ate.  They watched the male teenager behind the counter giving out ice cream cones and ice cream cakes to lots of different people.

Finally my daughter exclaimed, "Mommy!  I'm not going to be a Mom when I grow up anymore.  I'm going to be just like HIM!"

Forget raising another generation; who can compete with someone who has all the ice cream?

As we were leaving the ice cream store, we saw what looked like a bird with a broken wing on the pavement.  We were worried and so we went closer to check it out.  "Oh,"  I said in relief, "it's just two birds fighting."

My daughter remarked dismissively, "Oh, they must be brothers."

At least she'll have the ice cream.

They Won't Be Like This When You're Here...I Promise!

We had a new babysitter over the other day to introduce her to the kids.  That was our first mistake.

We should have locked her in to a specific date without a visual of the children in question, and then just run for it the moment she arrived.

But no, I was trying to be a good parent by letting her meet the kids ahead of time.  I gave them a little lecture prior to her showing up about how they needed to behave.

I'm not sure what they were listening to, but it wasn't my 'behave or die' speech.

All three of them were sitting there like little angels until the doorbell rang.  Then all hell broke loose.

As I was trying to introduce the new babysitter, the boys started punching each other with wide sweeping left and right crosses.

Then they started running around and around the house (I instantly regretted that open concept floor plan).  At one point my son was hanging over the end of the couch while the other one slapped his butt vigorously.

I was trying not to die of embarrassment.  I was attempting to convey to the kids with a series of complicated facial expressions that they needed to start behaving yesterday but surprisingly they didn't seem to understand me.

I started stammering that they weren't usually like this and that she just needed to get to know them, although I was beginning to wonder if that was ever going to happen after this little display.

I tried to get things under control by telling them to get ready for bed.  My youngest immediately stripped and began running naked around the house.  I was glad we were starting to see some control happening.

When the door closed behind her, I rested my head on it for a few moments.  I was speechless.  I wasn't sure what had just happened!

I was only clear on two things.  One: we need to get out a lot more and hire babysitters every night of the week so the novelty wears off, preferably immediately, and Two: this was never going to happen because word would spread to every person of eligible babysitting age that my kids were irredeemably insane.  Fabulous!

He Does Love Me!

My eight year old son broke my heart today.  He had worked out a plan in which we would bike together to Staples to get some supplies for school, and then bike to Booster Juice on the way back.  As we were about to leave this morning, he said to me, "You know Mom, we hardly ever do anything just the two of us...it's too bad."

That was when my heart broke.  He's the oldest of three and in school every day, so whenever he's home on the weekend he's always with his brother and sister.  And often he goes fishing with his dad, or his dad takes him to hockey while I have the other two, so he's right.  It's really never just the two of us. I mean, it was for the first whole three years of his life, but he doesn't remember that.

It made me realize that I need to carve out some 1:1 time for each child, which of course is easier said than done, but still that is my new goal.  The one thing we do together is bike, although often I have my youngest in the bike seat and my other on another bike. I've been meaning for a long time to go rock-climbing with him too...so I've got to step up and just do it.  (That should be a slogan of some kind.)

It means a lot to me that he still cares about things like this.  He's the one who will no longer let me kiss him goodbye on the playground.  Or even accompany him on the playground!  But at night, after I tuck him in, he always likes to talk to me, just the two of us.  And he asks me where I'll be in the house, just so he knows.

It's nice to know that although I may not be able to hold his hand in public anymore, there's still a great bond there.  After he made that statement, I tried not to show how I felt, and I tried not to overreact.  I just said, "Okay, then...so we'll do this again in one hour, and then again tomorrow, and the next day...does that work for you?"

Good Morning...or Not

This is how my day started.  A doll was being banged on my head.  "Wha-at?  Stop doing that!"  I told my daughter.

She looked at me in wide-eyed innocence.  "But I'M not doing it, Mommy.  It's Baby!"

Okay.  I took a deep breath.  "Baby, stop doing that!"

Of course Baby started to cry.

Downstairs to breakfast.  My oldest son, who had woken up earlier, was eating Fun-Dip.

"We don't eat Fun-Dip for breakfast!"  I informed him, although he knew that already.

He thought fast.  "Well, I already had my breakfast."

"We still don't eat Fun-Dip at 8 a.m. in the morning."

Then I thought, hmmmm.  I looked around the kitchen.  It was spotless.  (Let me rephrase that.  My kitchen is never spotless, not with three kids.  But it was as clean as I had left it the night before, which was a dead giveaway.  My kids are seemingly incapable of having any kind of food item without leaving a complete chaotic mess in their wake.)

When I asked my son suspiciously what he'd eaten for breakfast, he said a waffle, but I knew there was only one left and it was still in the box.  Meanwhile my other son told me he wanted a waffle for breakfast, so I put it in the toaster.

Then I talked to my other son about how when he lies to me it hurts my feelings.  The usual parent stuff.  He said sorry and said he would have a waffle after all.  A real one.

I told him that his brother was having the last one.

He protested, "But that's all I want for breakfast!"

Other son:  "But I asked first!  I want the waffle!"

After an exhausting go around, my middle son said, "Oh, okay, I'll let Colin have the waffle - I'm going to have cereal."

I sighed and thanked him.  Finally, finally we had resolved the waffle issue.  Who wants to argue over waffles?  I can think of better things to argue about...like toast!

But no.  Colin said, "I don't want the waffle anymore anyway."

This is the part where I started banging my head on the kitchen counter.  I took (another) deep breath.

"I've gone to the trouble to make the waffle (okay, I popped it in the toaster - but still!) and SOMEONE IS GOING TO EAT THE WAFFLE!"

Ryan said he would eat both his cereal and the waffle.

You see where I'm going, don't you?  No one ate the waffle.

Kids are so cute and interesting, but they sure can drive you crazy, can't they?

I can't think of any other examples right now - oh wait, they're all coming back.

Like when we're driving to my parents' cottage and Ryan yells grumpily, "Are we THERE YET?"

"Umm...we haven't left the driveway, yet...so that would be a no," I inform him cheerfully (note that I'm still cheerful at this point).

Then he demands to know exactly how much longer to the cottage, in seconds, and when you do the math in your head and tell him because he insists he absolutely has to know the exact total, he starts counting. "1, 2, 3 ...." 

And you think, it is four and a half hours to get to the cottage.  And you realize with a sense of desperation that if you have to listen to him counting the entire time, you are not going to make it!

This is when I put the earphones of my iPod in my ears and when I notice gesticulating, I just mouth, "Can't hear you - I've got earphones in my ears!"  (It works like a charm - I highly recommend it.)

The other thing is when they want a snack so they'll ask me what food we have.  I will patiently list all the food we have in the cupboard and the fridge that they can have for a snack.  I will wait.  There will be a long pause, and when I finally prompt them with, "Well...what will you have, then," they'll look at me blankly and say, "What do we have again?"

My new answer:  "Food - go eat it! Oh, and....love you!"

Stop It, Mommy!

Once you're a mom, it's hard to turn off that mom voice.  Even when you wish you could.  Even when you can tell that you're annoying your child, but you just can't stop!  Heck, sometimes I'm annoying MYSELF, and I still can't turn it off.

I know I can't keep my children in bubbles, and I know they need to make mistakes in order to learn.  So why is it so hard to let them do it, then?

I think it's because we're also supposed to protect our children; that's our job too.  And I love my children so much that it's hard to see them hurt themselves or fail something.

They're young yet, as well.  I hope the 'letting go' will happen more when they're teenagers....because I need several years to practice!

My oldest son (eight) was at a track meet, and I was there to watch him.  I kept bugging him about drinking enough fluids so he wouldn't get dehydrated, and he kept brushing me off (rolling his eyes and walking away).  But I was persistent, unfortunately for him.

I followed him around, holding out his juice box.  "How about some apple juice?"  I suggested brightly.  "What about water?  Hmmm?  Some nice cold water?"

I suppose the key would be pretending that I didn't care at all, but by then it was too late for that.

"You need to drink enough fluids...." my voice trailed off feebly as my son literally ran away from me.

Later on I noticed that he and his friends were lying on their backs, having a chugging contest with their water bottles.  They were each trying to drink the entire water bottle all at once; that was the game.

You'd think I would be happy that he was finally drinking something.  Sadly, no.

I rushed over and in front of all his friends I said, "Colin!  You shouldn't do that.  You're about to run and you don't want to run with tons of water sloshing around in your tummy."

Again, the rolling of eyes and the sigh.  Poor kid.  I can't help myself!  I'm going to have to learn how to bite my lip and keep my mouth shut.

The other day my mom was admonishing my 32 year old brother about wearing sunscreen, and he rolled his eyes as well, just like my son.  I guess some things never change. 

As I was leaving the track meet, without thinking I yelled in earshot of all his friends, "Bye Honey! I LOVE YOU!"  

Oops.

Driving Me Crazy

This summer we're going on a road trip for two weeks with our three children to Cape Breton.  I'm really looking forward to it.  But I have done a couple of road trips with children in which I swore vehemently to myself as I was banging my head against the car door that I would never, ever, ever do that again.  However, the kids are older now.  And I told my husband that it would be fine to do it, as long as we install a three-screened DVD along with a Wii, a PlayStation, and an X-box in the van.  And a convenience store.  Just a small request.

But I remember what it was like when we drove our five month old son to Florida.

As we set off, my husband said cheerfully, "Okay, let's try to get several good hours of driving in before we stop!"  Ten minutes later, we heard a loud explosion from our son.  My husband's eyes met mine pleadingly in the rear view mirror.  Sympathetically, I shook my head.  "Sorry, hon, we have to stop - he pooped through everything, including his overcoat!  It's all up his back!"

By Hour 10 my son had thoroughly inspected, chewed on, rattled and waved around almost every toy and book I had packed, even the completely new, never before seen Last Resort Toy.  I sang songs until my throat was hoarse.  By Hour 12 I was fantasizing about forcing my husband to drive to an airport, so Colin and I could fly the rest of the way.

It got to the point that we began arguing over who got to drive, since the other person had to entertain Colin.

"Honey, it's my turn to drive.  You must be exhausted!"  I announced to my husband firmly, feigning concern for his well-being.

He shook his head.  "No, that's okay...I've still got lots of energy,"  my husband insisted, although he'd been driving for four hours.  He gripped the steering wheel tighter.  "Really, I insist."

I gave up being diplomatic.  "I'm driving and that's FINAL!  Pull over, mister!"

With my husband in the backseat, Colin began wailing. "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands,"  my husband sang optimistically.  Colin wailed louder.  The clapping trailed off.  I resisted the urge to giggle.  Now it was my turn to grip the steering wheel and surreptitiously turn up the radio.  As I avoided mammoth trucks and aggressive tailgaters, I sighed to myself.  What a nice break!

When it was my turn to entertain my son again (after a brief but spirited tussle over the car keys in the parking lot of a McDonald's) we had completely run out of diversions and Colin had decided he wanted out of the car seat NOW.  I began desperately searching the car for new items.  Water bottle, Kleenex, extra diaper, extra clothing...  Colin looked at me when the last Kleenex had been ripped apart.  He knew I didn't have any more distractions.  He began opening his mouth to yell.  I looked frantically around the car.  Aha - there was one thing left in the car that he hadn't played with yet.  Frantically I bellowed, "GIVE ME THE MAP!"

My husband paled.  He looked over his shoulder at me nervously.  "But honey...we NEED the map."

I scowled at him in the rear-view mirror.  "We can buy another!  Do you think my sanity is worth more than a map?  Don't answer that!  Give. Me. The. Map!"

My husband took a deep breath, began to say something, noticed the frenzied look in my eyes, and then silently and reluctantly handed it back to me.  There was a brief tug of war before I seized it triumphantly and deposited it in my son's lap.  I breathed a sigh of relief as Colin began happily whipping the map around, banging his fist on it and ripping it.  I leaned back in my seat.  Whew!

"You show that map who's boss, honey!"  I encouraged him.  "And when it comes back, you show it who's boss again!"

Anyway, the road trip this time will be much better, I'm sure...I'll buy several sets of maps!