When Did I Become Decrepit? Oh, And Happy New Year 2012!

It's a New Year.  After I woke up after the Eve party and apologized to my liver, I thought about the year 2012.

I don't really believe in making resolutions.  I'm not anti-resolution, or anything.  But it seems to me it should be a whole lifestyle thing, right?  Also, we can't make resolutions about being perfect because that is an impossible goal and therefore self-defeating and will set everyone up to be depressed anyway, which can't be good.

(That was cheerful!  Way to start off the year.)

I have realized, though, that there are a few things I am going to strive for.

To back up a little, we had a babysitter the other night.  She just turned twelve, and yet she has a Blackberry and a laptop.  I don't own either of these things.

It made me feel  old and decrepit.  And out of touch.  Did I mention 'technophobe'?  I think that about covers it.

Does it count that I did own a laptop (used) for about one week before my daughter vomited directly onto the keyboard from about two inches away and which never turned on again after that (can't really blame it)?  I don't think so.

Clearly I need to get into the 21rst century. 

I do have a cellphone, but it's the kind I have to crank it up to use (joking, but it's pretty old and extremely basic).

The point is, having the year change has made me feel older.  That's surprising, isn't it.  It's funny how that works.

Yesterday I was telling my oldest son (nine) that I was going to teach him how to cook, and he paused and considered it.  "Okay", he sighed finally, "I guess I have SOME free time to do that."

'Some' free time?  He's rolling in free time!  He has nothing BUT free time.  His WHOLE LIFE has been a joyride of complete and utter I-make-all-his-dinners-and-do-his-laundry-and-buy-everything-he-needs F.R.E.E. T.I.M.E!

Not to be melodramatic about it.

Maybe I need to get out more this year.  So I'm going to strive for some more quality moments out with family and friends; experiences instead of stuff, as they say.  I plan to enjoy good music, food and wine during even better moments.  I'll continue my focus on health and running; that goes without saying.

Oh, and I've got my eye on a Kobo.

Parenting: Easy? Never!

I read an article in the paper today entitled, "Parenting Is Not Always Easy".  What?  That seems to imply that parenting is usually or even sometimes easy, when my opinion is that parenting is never easy.

And don't get me wrong. I love being a parent.  It's my most favourite job.  Is it completely worthwhile?  Yes.  Would I do it again?  Yes.  Is it often fun and interesting and wonderful?  Yes.  But easy?  No way.

It's the hardest job I have ever done.  Again, not because it's so terrible, but because it's so important.  We are raising these three little people who will become big people who we hope will be compassionate and positive contributors.  This is a huge job.  There are so many things that can go wrong!

And children are extremely vulnerable.  The worry alone is hard.  Worrying about whether they're eating right and enough.  Worrying if they're sick.  Worrying if they get a note from the teacher about behaviour and whether it will become a pattern....or maybe that's just me.

And there are so many details; so many decisions to make at all times.  You think planning a wedding is hard?  Try raising a human being!  The details never stop!  With every phase, they just change to different details.

Thank goodness we have the hugs, the 'I love you's', the holiday excitement, the fascination with watching little people learn and grow.

The worst part is that, although I want to do the right thing, it's not always clear what that is.  Most of the time you just take a deep breath and take a leap of faith.  You do what you think is right and you hope against hope that everything will work out okay.

All you parents out there, I think you know what I mean.  I've decided that the hardest jobs are the most worthwhile.  And anyway, easy jobs are for amateurs.

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!"

Separation Anxiety: Or 'Clingy Like Saran Wrap'

My daughter is three and a half and she is extremely clingy right now.  I call her 'Saran Wrap' (lovingly).  She cries whenever I leave, even if I've been with her all day and I'm just going out for a run.

I knew it was getting bad when I tried to take a shower the other day, and she began crying.  Tearfully, she told me that she didn't want me to take a shower because she loved me.  I said, "Honey, I love you too, but I'm just taking a shower.  I am, in case you haven't noticed, still RIGHT HERE.  I'm not leaving the house; I'm just going behind this curtain!  It's not like REALLY LEAVING!"

She got into the shower with me.

I'm not really sure how to handle this, because I haven't had to deal with it for my two older boys.  And my daughter is extremely loving and nurturing and sensitive (not like anyone I know) and I don't want to hurt her.

Also, I know the boys went through so many phases and I'm thinking if I can just hang on, this will be another phase that will pass.

I have come to realize that (as my good friend said when I discussed the best way to leave her when she's crying): "It's like a band aid - the quicker you take it off, the quicker it stops hurting."

However, I also think about when she will be sixteen and how she might (sob) hate me and be embarrassed by me and never want to be seen with me, and then I feel like saying, "That's okay, I'll hold you while I make dinner.  I don't mind at all!  You want to hold my hand the entire day?  GOOD!  Let's do it!" 

You've got to get it while you can, right?