I can S-P-E-L-L and my teachers would be P-R-O-U-D. Hubby and I spell out words all the time to each other as our form of code. So that the Wee Ladies won't understand what we are saying. The subject matter is usually too sensitive for wee ears, or it is about them. We usually spell words if they are standing in front of us, words that little people should not hear, words about food and drink, and words about, well, you know........The point is I can spell really well and I could easily take on any gifted student in a spelling bee any day. I bet I would come very close to winning.

The regular spelling bees started in our house when EvieG was about 3. I remember saying to Hubby something like, "EvieG finished her dinner, but she has been a bit cranky. I don't think she should have any d-e-s-s-e-r-t." And he looked at me like I had just spoken to him in a foreign language. "What did you just say to me?" he replied with his head slightly cocked and the lines in his forehead showing. There was a pause which lasted several seconds. And then he looked up towards the ceiling and with his right index finger he began mouthing the letters and writing them in the air. "Oh, dessert! That's what you said! I didn't know what you were talking about!" And then EvieG caught wind of what we were up to and started shouting, "Ice cream! I want chocolate ice cream!" Darn! We had been beat!

I wasn't always so aware of my daily use of language. It took a while for me to rekindle my relationship with letters and phonics. There was a long time when I wasn't around kids. And so my language reflected that. I was never uber foul-mouthed, but it wasn't always nice to listen to either. Once the Wee Ladies came along, it took practice and patience to think about what I was going to say before saying it. I couldn't be as spontaneous with my choice of words.

It has been a long journey on the road to recovery as far as my language awareness is concerned. And I have definitely had relapses. Especially when I am around my friends and there are no kids to be found. All of a sudden I will stop myself and say, "Who just put the toilet into my mouth?" And then I flush to get rid of all the bad words that had crept back in.

I find that I am spelling more and more all the time. And it comes down to this. I think I like spelling. I think it makes me feel S-M-R-T, as Bart Simpson would say. Because I spell words that Hubby will tell me don't have to be spelled out. It is a way to challenge my brain. A self check to see if I'm still sharp. Because being around 3 Wee Ladies all day and talking in ways that little people understand, like in short, simple, 3 word sentences can take its toll on one's intellect.

I also think that EvieG is a quick study. I think she sometimes knows exactly what we are spelling. She can put the spelling of the word into context and put the pieces together that way. Like if I say to Hubby, "I think it's time to put them to b-e-d, so we can p-l-a-y," EvieG will respond with, "But I'm not tired yet Mommy!" And I look at Hubby and say, "How did she do that? And what part do you think she understood? Crap! Oops! I mean Darn!"

I know it is only a matter of time before the Wee Ladies understand phonetics. Pretty soon Hubby and I are going to have to develop a whole new form of code. We will have to stay one step ahead of them because kids are smart whipper-snappers. They get things. They pick up on things, especially when we are on the phone. They may be playing nicely off to the side, but they are listening to every word you say. I know this because after I hang up, EvieG will ask me a question that was phone conversation related, or she will being playing house and REPEAT exactly what I said on the phone. She has actually thrown letters out there as she attempts to spell like us. "Hey Mom! Do you want to go to the p-h-d-r-s-n?" I just tell her, "Sure. Let's go."

Until our new code is created, we will continue with our daily spelling bees. We will also keep trying to stay ahead of their learning curve. All the while, I will continue to pay attention to my own language and tones, especially when the kids are with me and I am talking to my friends. I will watch what I say and what I spell. You never know what they will pick up on and understand. I will put my language awareness radar on so that the exact location and vicinity of the child is known if anything remotely risque is mentioned.

Because I don't want EvieG coming home one day after school and saying, "Mom, I know what s-e-x is."

That would put me over the edge.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, Hubby

As a follow-up to Monday's FYI posting and after some further discussion about babysitting rates, it seems that there is no one clear answer. It seems that there are a variety of factors:

- How many kids there are
- How long the parent(s) are out of the house
- What the job entails (feeding, changing, etc)
- Parental expectations
- Parental competition (households competing for the same babysitter)
- Location (Toronto versus elsewhere)

I know that home day cares in this area charge between $28/day and $32/day. That works out to be between $3.50 and $4.00/hour for an 8 hour day. Those are experienced adult babysitters who do this for a living.

Is this not so cut and dry? Does it depend on the listed variables or should there be a set price?

I have created a poll. Take a vote. I think it would be interesting to see what kind of data we get from this because a lot of parents (myself included) are sometimes at a loss as to what the babysitter should be making for what they are doing. For me, with 3 Wee Ladies, I always have them fed, bathed and in their jammies. That way she only has to change them before bed, give them a snack, and help them with their teeth before lights out.

But we still want them to come back, especially if we find a good one.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS If you have another response for the poll that is not listed, post a comment. Your data still matters. Thanks a bunch for participating!

Oh, and you can vote for more than one answer.

Labels: Poll

Fussy eaters. Why can't kids just eat and enjoy what we make them? It annoys me. Especially when you work to provide a tasty, nutritious meal for them. You prepare the food and get it all served only to get the old, "No!" along with the pushed-away-plate. It's hard sometimes not to take it personally. You just want to go over to the child and force it into them. And so I do.

There's no Sneaky Chef or Seinfeld books in our house. But there are planes, trains, and automobiles. And many makes and models. Hubby or I get a meal ready and then we put it in front of them. All the while there are several cars, trucks and buses waiting for the green light. Even ducks.

The Wee Ladies eat pretty well, but not always. They are carb addicts. They all have a sweet tooth and I have no idea where that came from. If it's leafy and green, EvieG shudders at the sheer sight of it. Spark Plug loves sucking the balsamic vinaigrette off of the mixed greens. They eat lots of fruit and some veggies, but not a tremendous amount. And I don't puree it and put it in cookies either. I want them to learn to eat what is given to them. The rule in our house is: You must try it first and then decide you don't care for it. So EvieG tries everything and if she doesn't like it, she says, "I don't care for that, thanks."

We have strategies in place for when the Wee Ladies are not digging our dishes. There is the old, "You need to have 5 more bites, because you're almost 5." Followed by the, "One for Mom, one for Dad, one for Grandma and one more for you!" So it ends up being more than five bites. And then my favourite- the motorized vehicles brigade into the mouth, or airport, or station, or pond. The Wee Ladies have had anything that moves find its way into their mouths.

Here is the list of the most frequent flyers:
1. plane arriving at the airport
2. tractor coming into the barn
3. duck flying to the pond
4. police car coming to the station
5. Spark Plug's favourite- the firetruck coming to put out the fire
6. the ambulance going to the hospital
7. the bus coming to the bus stop
8. the Mack truck coming into the truck stop
9. the car pulling into the driveway
10. and of course, the train coming into the station

Oh and I forgot to mention my favourite: 11. Hubby's dramatization of a bomb dropping into the mouth.

Now, these are done very dramatically complete with sound effects and movement. It is highly entertaining and usually gets the job done. Sometimes though, we only slightly get through our list. Last night was one of those nights and so Hubby and I took it up a notch.

Yesterday at dinner, the Wee Ladies were done earlier than usual. To get a few more bites into them, we led the parade through town. They weren't having much of it. And so the Who Can Get Them to Eat More Competition was born. The motorized vehicles were left in the dust and out came the 80's classics. We had the following tunes dancing down their throats:

1. Thriller by Michael Jackson
2. The Safety Dance by Men Without Hats (sung in harmony)
3. Black Cars by Gino Vanelli
4. Mr. Roboto by Styx
5. Two of Hearts by Stacy Q

We were somewhat successful. The Wee Ladies laughed, we really laughed, and Hubby started howling because he couldn't take any more of my 80's renditions. So we, the parents, came out on top. Another great dinner down the hatch. And so what if it took some drama? Kids like drama. And I love the 80's. And Hubby despises my singing. So he resorted back to the dropping bomb.

Kids are going to be picky eaters. I have to keep telling myself that. I am not going to make KD every other night (although I am often tempted-if it was good enough to send me through school, then it's good enough for my kids, right?). To me, they have to eat what they are given and try new things, even if they don't put back that much of it. I want them to be able to eat lots of things. I want them to know how to eat and try different things. Especially when they go to someone else's house. I don't want them to be rude and sit at someone else's table only to say, "Ewww. I don't like that." I want them to appreciate what they are provided with. After all, they are told repeatedly, there are lots of kids who don't have good food to eat.

There are days when the motorized vehicle brigade is in the shop, unable to travel. There are days when they refuse to eat and therefore go hungry. Not for long. But long enough for Hubby and I to make a point. A point that teaches them that when it's time to eat, it's time to eat. And so they complain that they are hungry and we proceed with our evening. We play, they get ready for bed, we read, and then they have a snack before lights out. Our point was made but they don't go to sleep on an empty stomach. I wouldn't like that, so I won't do that to the Wee Ladies.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle

As I mentioned in the previous posting, I have the best babysitter ever. Not only is she the best babysitter, but she has agreed to do some other work for me. I have pawned a job off onto her that I have been procrastinating on. Baby albums.

This kid loves scrapbooking. I loathe it. My brain doesn't work that way. I do not have one crafty bone in my body and am always looking at moms who live, eat, breathe this stuff with a dazed look on my face. It is foreign to me. Stamping and scrapbooking. It so doesn't even remotely appeal to me. To me, it is a form of torture. I can be a bit wound up at times and need to keep active. So sitting down and doing planning, lay out design, cutting, pasting, and layering is a form of punishment for me. Plus the fact that I am rammy. I do things quickly and mess it up. When I cook, I never go by the recipe. I always change or add something and make a big mess at the same time. People can't even read my writing. Anything artsy and crafty like scrapbooking or toll painting requires care and patience. I didn't get that gene. I would rather spend any free time I have socializing and talking over a nice cold beer. That is a productive hobby to me.

I did a baby book for EvieG after she turned 1. It is an album of her first year. It was one of those albums with the black cover and paper where you stick the stickies onto the picture and put them in. And then take a pretty gel pen and write some stuff about the month and event. It took some time, and I didn't enjoy the tediousness of putting it all together one bit. I liked looking at the pictures.

Life got busy and Spark Plug came along and then The Destroyer. We have had a second birthday and the last first birthday and I am not even close to having any kind of album assembled for the others. But I do have a disc burned with pictures from their first year. I am one step closer.

I have to go to the store and get the pictures printed because it's a little bit cheaper than online ordering. I hate paying for shipping. And then I have to buy albums and put them all together. I am getting anxious just writing this. As Donny Deutsch from The Big Idea says, "There has to be a better way." And there is. My babysitter.

She has agreed to do my albums for me. This would be a good side business for her. I am going to give her some start up money. I will buy the albums and then give her some cash to go out and buy the supplies. Then she can design and put the photos into the books all pretty like. Then she will give the albums back to me where I take my lovely gel pen and fill in the blanks. We will establish a price per page. How-good-does-that-sound??? One less thing off the To Do List.

All kids love to look at their baby books. I know I loved to when I was a kid. Back then it was those albums with the gold curled binding and a crazy pattern on the padded cover that matched the polyester shirt with the pointed collar that my dad was wearing in one of the pictures. My mom just lifted the plastic cover and stuck the pictures in. There was no writing. But she told me everything. I want the Wee Ladies to have a baby book, but times are different. I guess I could go out and get one of those albums like my own baby book. But I know that there are more resources out there and that I could have a book for them with a few more details. So I will. I will just hire someone to do the dirty work for me. And what a story it will be. As they grow they will love the book and know that there was team work involved. The babysitter put it together and I filled in the blanks. They will feel good that such an effort was made on their behalf. And they will like looking at the pictures.

I am glad that these books will be made. It is something that has been nagging at me to get done. But I have put it off and put it off. Now I have help and the best part is that the babysitter loves to scrapbook! And I love that she loves to scrapbook!

I wonder if she will help me put some pictures in frames and up on the walls in our house? Because there are none. True story.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Chores

We have the best babysitter. She is a former student of mine and is graduating from Grade 8 this year. She is fab. The kids love her, she is calm, and she is sharp. I love sharp kids. She plans ahead, is organized, and is extremely attentive. She listens and I only have to say things once and she gets it.

The first time we had her, I took her through the house and explained the routines and then asked her if she had any questions, thinking I had covered everything because that is how I am. And to my surprise she said, "Yes." I thought to myself, "So what could I have possibly forgotten to mention?" I had everything important written down on a piece of paper; timeline, phone numbers and the place we were going, not to mention the big bold 911 at the bottom. She asked, "Where do you keep your First Aid Kit?" I stopped, and with a dumbfounded look on my face like a deer caught in headlights, I said, "Pardon me?" She said, "Do you have a First Aid Kit?" I felt like giving her The Best Babysitter in the World medal right there. I was in shock and awe at the same time.

Here are the thoughts that ran through my head:

- She must have memorized the Babysitting Course Handbook
- She can probably give CPR better than I can
- She could probably teach the CPR course
- Do I have the First Aid Kit?
- I thought I bought one for the Northern Ontario cottage we go to. Where is it? I know where the bear bells, whistles, and air horn are.
- If I can't find it, what kind of mother will she think I am?
- I wonder if all households have First Aid Kits?

"Ummmmm, let me think." And then Hubby pipes up, "Ya, it's in the cupboard in the back bathroom." "Oh ya, it's in the bathroom. I'll show you." And I am thinking, "Thank goodness we have one! And while we are at it, I better show her where the fire extinguishers are." She was satisfied and had all the bases covered. I told her that I had just recently replaced all the batteries in the fire alarms too. Just to put her at ease.

I am so happy we found her. Not only does she have all the bases covered, but she brings crafts and games for the kids. She has a bag of stuff and brings her own entertainment for the Wee Ladies. Who does that? I never did that. When I babysat, I brought.....nothing. Not even my homework. I put the kids to bed and watched TV.

So what should you pay a great babysitter? We have 3 Wee Ladies and I am always at a loss as to what fair payment should be. We have to make it worth her while. Not only does she have 3 kids to deal with, but things are expensive these days and teenagers want stuff. So I always pay her in cash. I usually go for about $5.00 an hour. I sometimes give her a little extra if Spark Plug throws a tantrum. I want her to come back. I have talked to people who agree that $5.00 and hour is fair and then I have talked to people who pay more than that and I mean like almost double that. I just stood there with my jaw on the floor when I heard that. Which makes me wonder-what are fair babysitting prices these days? What are the going rates?

I would love some response to this. Input is greatly appreciated.

How do we keep 'em wanting to come back?

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Hubby thinks I'm cheap and he pays her more when I am not looking.

Labels: FYI

It has arrived. The time for our last of the firsts. The Destroyer has her first birthday tomorrow. I have mixed feelings. Feelings of, "Thank goodness, we are here," and then the feelings of, "My last baby is turning one...My....Last....Baby."

It's like having the little angel on one shoulder telling me that it will be easier from here on in as we will be more mobile. And then there is the little devil on the other shoulder telling me that this is my last baby ever and that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if another....and then I flick the devil off and watch him fly through the air only to knock himself out as he hits the tree in the backyard and then dissolves into nothing.

We are done. No more babies. And so the angel, the white, the good prevails. Not to say that another baby is bad. Let's just clarify that. But it won't happen. Guaranteed. Unless I prove to be one of the two out of a thousand, which my doctor assures me won't happen. He better be right.

The last of the firsts is bittersweet. I am looking forward to being able to go more places with them as they grow. It also means no more bottles. I cut them off shortly after a year. It means more mobility for her. She can run around at the park and in the backyard and play with her sisters. She has been running for 2 months now. And as of tomorrow, we will have 3 forward facing Wee Ladies in the van. Wow. This is the true mark that Babyland is gone. It's over. Three facing ahead. Which means it's full speed ahead from here on in.

I will miss Babyhood though. I will miss the cuddle time because as babies, they have no choice. They have to cuddle. They can't squirm in your arms, push you away and run off. They stare at you for hours on end, probably because they can't see past their noses, but they know something is there. The firsts of the first year are so special too and now it's over. From smiling to cooing to rolling over to crawling, etc. There will be no more.

Although I am excited about the increased mobility, it means I will be even busier chasing them around and meeting the demands of two toddlers and a big girl. Not to mention my becoming a firefighter as I am sure I will be hosing them down many times to put out their fires.

We will be marking the last of our firsts with a celebration tomorrow. With family and good friends, they will be here to witness The Destroyer's true destroying nature as she will completely obliterate her first cake. I am sure I will be vacuuming for a week after she is done with her cake. She is our Little Miss Sunshine and so everything will be yellow, but not lemon because Hubby hates anything lemon.

I am okay with the last of our firsts. There are so many more exciting times to come. And also, I will have plenty of opportunity to get my baby fix. I will just have to take the babies of my friends. Or move in with them for a while after they bring their newbies home.

Even though The Destroyer is a year tomorrow, she is still my baby. I still rock her before bed and cuddle her as much as I can. She is our last baby and I will baby her all I want.

All's I'm sayin' all.

I will be back on Monday with more to talk about. Have fun this weekend!

Labels: Guilt

The title of this post reflects what I am telling myself repeatedly today. Go ahead and G.A.W.K. Feel free. And I will. Today Hubby and I are Going Away Without Kids. Yes, you read correctly. It's party time. We are going for, are you sitting down? An ALL-NIGHTER! Whoo hoo! (Confetti falls here and balloons released). I don't think we will pull an all-nighter, but you never know. We will be gone for just slightly over 24 hours. Anything can happen. I can't believe it.

We don't leave the Wee Ladies behind glitch-free.

1. Illness: This ALWAYS happens. I cannot remember the last time we went away leaving behind 3 healthy children. True story. There is someone who always comes down with something. Each Wee Lady has been ill over this past week and The Destroyer came down with a fever last night.

2. The next issue is WORRY. We do not leave without some level of anxiety, especially when there is illness present. Plus, we worry about just about everything. Will someone choke? Will they sleep? Will they behave? Will they brush their teeth? Will they miss us? I am going to give myself an ulcer worrying about my worry. I can't think about it anymore....but it always creeps back into my head.

3. With worry comes the GUILT. My favourite. I feel guilty for leaving the Wee Ladies behind, especially when there is illness present. I feel guilty that the grandparents are taking time out of their busy lives to contend with them....even though they love it. I feel guilty that I am going away to spend money. I feel guilty that I am causing them anxiety by leaving. We just might as well cry all together when we leave. I've done that before. Cried after I've left them.

4. To go anywhere requires strategic planning. I must have the fridge at full capacity, clothes laundered and put away so I don't end up feeling guilty because my Mother-In-Law felt obliged to get it done, notes made regarding the dispensation of medications and other Must Know Facts and Times, diapers topped up, and the house tidied. I don't want her to think I live in squalor. I am packing up The Destroyer because she is staying at my Mom's. So that means packing the playpen and several changes of clothes, medication, thermometer, diapers, wipes, creams, towels (like my Mom doesn't already have most of this stuff), blankies, stuffed animals, soothers, cereal, food, Homogenized milk, bottles.....you get the idea. It goes on and on. It's a lot of work to pull an All-Nighter.

BUT I CAN'T WAIT!

Hubby is going away on business and I am tagging along to give him moral support from Target (pronounced Tar-'zhay). That's right. He will be working and I will be browsing the stocked shelves of the US Super Wal*Mart where they have stuff that we can't buy in Canada. Cookie Crisp cereal, Diet Cherry Coke, Cinnamon Streusel muffin mix by Betty Crocker (they taste like Cinnabons) and Hard Surface cleaner. These things make me very excited. I will be thinking of Hubby the whole time. Correction: I will be worrying about the Wee Ladies the whole time, feeling guilty that I am shopping.

These feelings of anguish combined with bouts of excitement are normal. The excitement is the same feeling you get when you get up on Christmas morning. There is the feeling of anticipation as we go on our All-Nighter adventure. It's like I have never been away before. I have been on a few getaways since the Wee Ladies came into our lives, but Hubby and I have not been away together alone on a real vacation that lasted more than 2 days since 2002. True story. So any time I get with Hubby alone is very exciting. Let's not forget that All Night Sleep+Sleep In=Happy Mom. And I am taking my pillow Paris Hilton style. I never truly sleep soundly without my own pillow.

I know that I have to suck it up and leave the Wee Ladies. I know they will be fine and we will only be gone 5 minutes and they won't even notice we have left. They have fun with the grandparents. It's good for them to spend time with them. I know that it is good for our marriage to have some alone time. As much as I fight with the feelings of guilt and anxiety, I know that all will be well and Hubby and I will be well. It gives us time to breathe and enjoy the quiet together. We will be rejuvenated upon our return. And not in a spa kind of way. I will have cleared my head and enjoyed time to myself without the exfoliated skin, limber muscles and painted nails. I will keep telling myself that it's okay to G.A.W.K. Because it is. I'll just try to not spend that much.

Thanks to the grandparents for looking after the Wee Ladies.

I will not be posting tomorrow. But I will be back on Friday.

I better go shave my legs.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Guilt

Need water. Must have water. Need nourishment. Must have food. This is something I say to myself more times than not. I know. It's bad. The days fly by with the Wee Ladies and I often forget about my own health. True Story.

A typical morning looks like this:

6:52 am: EvieG runs down the hall and bids us a good morning.

6:53 am: Spark Plug runs down the hall shouting, "Juice, juice! Snack, snack!"

Just 5 more minutes.....

7:17 am: Roll out of bed to begin the day's festivities. Starting with changing and dressing and grooming the Wee Ladies.

7:32 am: Take everyone downstairs for breakfast. Provide Wee Ladies with food and drink.

NOTE: Notice how I forgot to a) go to the bathroom and b) brush my teeth c) get dressed

8:00 am: Turn on TV for a few minutes to let the dust settle and I proceed to make EvieG's lunch, surface clean and do dishes.

8:17 am: Brush teeth and pull on jeans and t-shirt or gym attire.

8:23 am: Get everyone ready for departure. Dressed and into the van they go.

8:32 am: Pull out of driveway and drop EvieG off at school and Spark Plug at preschool.

That is how I start the day. Sometimes I will pour myself a glass of water, especially before going to the gym. But I only end up drinking about half the glass as I multi-task. I also sometimes get myself a bowl of cereal. I only ever end up taking a few bites. What usually happens is I will grab a banana on my way out the door.

The day moves on and I snack. Sometimes I will have a protein shake, but only when I am home from the gym. Most days the majority of my own nourishment comes from food that I prepare for the Wee Ladies. I find I snack my way through the day. A bite of waffle here, a handful of grapes or Teddy Grahams there. About 4 bananas a day because it's easy. I am like our Wee Westie, Basil. I eat the leftover scraps that the Wee Ladies leave on their plates. True story. I will take a few bites of pasta, finish a hunk of apple, or have some of their cereal. And I hardly have anything to drink. Sometimes I feel like my skin is going to peel off because I am so dehydrated.

This is a problem.

I prepare great dinners for the most part with lean meat and veggies with fruit for dessert. So I do get one solid meal a day. And we always sit down together for dinner. I am aware of my problem and I try to solve it by being more organized for myself at breakfast and lunch. I just can't seem to find the time to sit and eat. There is always so much to do! Someone always needs something.

Making wholesome meals for the Wee Ladies is my first concern and they eat well balanced meals. I just pick at what I am giving them. Some could argue that this is more healthy for me because I am eating several small meals a day. I don't know. I find I get hungry and then I take another handful of fishy crackers.

I want to be proactive about my own health so I asked my doctor if I could get blood work done to make sure I wasn't dying or anything. Because I worry about this so much that it is its own problem. I better call my head doctor, Nenny With Twins. So in order to get the blood work done I have to find the time to get to the lab to give the blood. Well, I was given the paperwork to go and do this 2 1/2 months ago. I just got it done today. True story. And I had The Destroyer with me. EvieG was at her fitness class and Spark Plug was with Hubby. There was no line up in the lab so I got 'er done. Another thing off the To Do List.

When the days are so consumed with the Wee Ladies it is hard to find time to do basic things like eat and drink. I know it is not healthy, but it is the reality of life for me these days. I can hardly find time to breathe some days! I know that I have to make more of a planned effort to make sure I am taking care of myself. Maybe that should be my Half-Way-Through-the-Year-Resolution.

So here it is:

I, Dress Down Mom, hereby declare that I will promise to:

1. Drink more water so my kidneys don't fail on me and then I end up in the Marble Orchard.
2. Eat more well balanced meals instead of licking the plates of the Wee Ladies.
3. Do what the doctor asks before it's time to have my next physical, a year from now.
4. Call Nenny With Twins to have her convince me that I am alive and thriving and not going to end up in the Marble Orchard any time soon.

I am what I eat and drink, right? So if I eat and drink well throughout my days, chances are I will live a long and happy life with the Wee Ladies. Starting now I will try my best. I will make a list and start planning my food and water intake. We will all be better for it.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM

I have daily power struggles with the Wee Ladies as we battle for the winning title in our game of Tug o' War. Push and pull. Give and Take. Shove and embrace. This is what happens between the Wee Ladies and I sometimes. Already. EvieG is almost 5, Spark Plug just turned 2 and The Destroyer is turning 1 this coming Saturday. I never thought that I, the woman some refer to as 'Coach', who is always in control, who has everything planned (except The Destroyer) would ever have power struggles with toddlers. I-am-Mother. I-rule-roost. What-I-say-goes. A.big.fat.NOT SO MOM sometimes.

I sit down at times and think, "I'm not going to be pushed around. No one pushes me around. Like Cameron in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, I'm gonna take a stand." A stand that puts the Wee Ladies in their place and me firmly in my place. Respect is important to me. As Auntie Char would say, "I'm the Mother." Don't mess with this Mother...

The phrase, "I'm the Mother" can be used to put the children in their place. It helps establish an understanding between parent and child. Here are some examples of conversations between EvieG and I:

Example 1:

EvieG: Can I go outside and play in the rain without my coat?
Dress Down Mom: No.
EvieG: How come?
Dress Down Mom: Because it is wet and cold and you need a coat to keep you warm and dry.
EvieG: But I like to get wet! It's like taking a shower! Can I?
Dress Down Mom: I said no!
EvieG: How come?
Dress Down Mom: Because I'M THE MOTHER and I said so!
EvieG: Ok Mom. I'll get my coat.
Dress Down Mom: Don't forget to zipper it up on your way out....

Example 2:

EvieG: Mom, can I stay up late?
Dress Down Mom: No, you have school tomorrow and you need a good night's sleep.
EvieG: But I"m not tired. Can I just stay up for a little while?
Dress Down Mom: No, I said. Did you not hear me?
EvieG: But how come?
Dress Down Mom: Because I'M THE MOTHER! You are going to bed when it is time for you to go to bed!

As this happens I feel my fuse start to get short. I will win. Oh yes, I will win. And I usually do. I never thought I would feel as if I had to compete for the win with a 4 year old. EVER.

Then comes Spark Plug. She probably says 'No' over a hundred times a day. True Story. And it annoys the you-know-what out of me. At times she can be sooooo demanding and other times she is so smiley and cuddly. Power struggles with a 2 year old is its own sport. It can be like a jousting match. There is the stare down. Followed by the rush towards each other. Then comes the collision. One falls and walks away with their tail between their legs. It's not me. For the most part. I have more wins than losses.

The Destroyer is already starting to push a little. Hasn't she seen my reactions? Doesn't she know how I will deal with power struggles? Does she not see that I will win? Does she not recognize that I'm the Mother? Stubborn girl, she is.

There is drama. The jumping up and down on the spot, full whine included. There is also the lay down on the floor and moving around in circles. This is powered by the kicks. I usually just say, "Too bad. I'm the Mother," and then I walk away. Or I put them on the step for time out. Sometimes they go to their room. For a while. This time allows for me to regain my composure so they don't witness my losing it. I could play that game. I too can be a toddler and throw a decent rangy. But I'm more mature than that. I'm the Mother. I'll just turn my back and count to 10. Or shout into my pillow. Then I will straighten my shirt and push the hair out of my face and have a good chat with the child. During the chat I am at eye level and never look away first. This way I keep my Alpha position securely in place.

I have given in too, of course. I have relented. It's usually when Hubby is around. He is so much more of a softy than I am. Maybe that's why they sometimes go to him first. But we are a united front. I don't get so bent out of shape when he is present. True Story. I definitely lose it more easily when he is not around. But there are times when the Wee Ladies get what they want.

I realize that there is going to be give and take and that there has to be a balance when trying to raise independent thinkers. This can be tough though because I want control. I am learning that I have to let them grow and try things on their own only to figure out that it doesn't work and maybe they should have listened to their Mother in the first place. They will. They will learn that Mom truly knows best...so cliche. But they have to fall, get up and try again. It's just hard letting go of that control sometimes. I want to make sure that our roles are firmly intact. I will have to give a little too. Just not too much because after all I should get respect. I'm the Mother.

Labels: DDM

Last week Spark Plug came down with a fever. It got as high as 103.6F. She was sick and so Hubby took her to the hospital. They looked her over and taped a bag on her to get a urine sample. She came home and went to bed. Poor girl. I felt so badly for her. It breaks my heart to see kids sick and uncomfortable.

Those bags are horrible when taped to little ladies. When they go to the bathroom hardly any gets in the bag. Hubby dropped the minuscule amount off at the doctor's office the next morning and the doctor made fun of him for turning in such a piddly sample. After a few jokes passed back and forth, it turns out she had a bladder infection. She got a prescription for antibiotics and is still taking the meds. She will be done tomorrow and is much more herself now that her lips and hands aren't turning blue from being outside in the 20 degree Celsius heat.

Yesterday afternoon EvieG started complaining that it hurt when she went tinkles. Later in the day she felt warm. I took her temperature. She was at 101.4F. Great. Hubby took her to the hospital and sure enough she too has a bladder infection and is now on antibiotics. I am glad I continued to pay into my health care benefits.

I have learned from very dear friends of ours who are in the health profession that bladder infections are to be taken seriously. They should be given a VCUG, which is a test where they put a dye into their bladders to make sure that they don't have reflux where the urine backtracks into the kidney. Reflux could result in kidney damage. I called the doctor's office and have an appointment for them both tomorrow. They will both have an renal ultrasound and I am going to ask for a referral to a pediatrician. From there we will see if we go further and have a VCUG done.

I am worried and think it is very curious that they both have the same infection at the same time. The doctor said that this is purely coincidental. I hope they don't have some congenital bladder problem. They have both had these infections in the past. We will have it looked at and from here on in, I will not be using any bubble bath. I think that maybe there could be a common link there.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: FYI

When I go out with all of the Wee Ladies I become a whole other creature. I become part animal and part machine. As soon as I put the car in reverse to leave the driveway it's like the third eye in the back of my head opens from its nap. Along with the additional eye, my neck lengthens because that is my radar tower. My hearing sharpens. My protective animal instincts to keep my young safe and by my side kicks in. Minimizing is key. I do not take anything extra with me. I have The Destroyer on my hip, I pull Spark Plug by her forearm and EvieG runs around us in circles. Hence the third eye.

My monitoring radar system is on as we drive. I listen and can deal with just about everything from the driver's seat without having to pull over. "I heard that! Keep your hands to yourself!" I say when I hear the faintest of subtle slaps. Cough, cough and I respond with, "Are you ok? Can you breathe?" thinking that one of them may be choking on their Arrowroot. I can listen to music (or CBC when it's my turn) and hear all that is happening behind me all at the same time.

At the store, my neck lengthens a little bit more and my ears turn out. My third eye is constantly scanning. I try to keep them all together as best I can, but it doesn't always work. Quick little creatures that they are, they can sometimes get away from you. They run around like Gremlins and hide while peeking at you from behind the flower display. I know where they are though. Most of the time. There are times, and it only takes a split second for them to get away, and the motherly panic mode sets in. The monitoring radar system goes into overdrive complete with chest tightening and quick breathing. Three eyes, long neck and outward turned ears doing a full search for the target. B-e-e-p, b-e-e-p, be-ep, be-ep, beep, beep, beep. Target found. Target engaged. Mother pounces at record setting speeds and pulls the ankle biter from its hiding spot. Mother drags the creature by the bicep back to the rest of the clan. Success.

There is that fear that one of the Wee Ladies is going to disappear or be snatched by a stranger. I have put such fear in EvieG about strangers that I hope some of it has sunk into her wee head.That fear is what drives the monitoring radar system and it is even in overdrive when the Wee Ladies are outside in the backyard. There was one time when EvieG was about 14 months old and my monitoring radar system was in its infancy. I was on the phone and Hubby was working in the yard. I thought he had her. He thought I had her. But really neither one of us had her. The old lady who had pulled over in her car across the street had her. EvieG escaped from the backyard and was on her way to the park. Crossed the street by herself and was leisurely on her way to play. Panic mode set in and I was frantically looking around the house and then looked out the front window. Our front door was opened so fast that it nearly came off its hinges. I think I set a sprint record as I bolted across the lawn and street in my bare feet. It was kind of like when you were a kid and you could run down gravel roads with bare feet and not feel a thing. That was me. The poor lady was wondering where the heck the neglectful parent was and then was put at ease when she saw me. EvieG was alright. Everyone was alright. It was only a few moments but it seemed like forever. Since then my monitoring system has been completely intact with no short circuits to report.

Efficiency is key when out with the Wee Ladies. Keeping track of three means that I don't bring anything with me. I never bring a purse. Just my bank card in my pocket. I leave the diaper bag or any other bag in the van. Extra things means possible complications with the monitoring radar system. So I keep it simple. The only annoying thing is that I change coats or pants and don't always remember to transfer the bank card. I have been less efficient that way, especially when the groceries have been rung through and I have no way to pay. Then I pull the Wee Ladies back out to the van to get my VISA. True story. All because I want my monitoring radar system to be working at full capacity.

Keeping the brood together is a challenge and that is why I don't go out with all of them unless I have to. It is much easier to stay at home. My third eye gets tired and my long neck gets cramped and my ears become strained. Plus my bank card and VISA need a rest. When we pull into the driveway, the monitoring radar system gives a sigh of relief, turns onto its low setting (it never really turns off) and we all come into the house, lock the doors and have a snack. Another mission complete. With no losses.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Have a great weekend and thanks for reading. I will be back on Monday with more to tell.

Labels: DDM

Today I am wearing my most favourite red t-shirt by David and Goliath that reads, "MY MOM THINKS I'M COOL." She does. I have concluded that she is probably the only person who does think I am cool. I don't even know what cool means anymore. I am so out of loop now that my days are consumed with the Wee Ladies that I am lost when it comes to 'What's Hot' and 'What's Not'. And reading an issue of In Style magazine does not make up for my loss of coolness factor.

Before life with the Wee Ladies I always said, "When I grow up and have kids I am going to be the coolest Mom ever." Yes, I thought that I would dress my kids and myself in the coolest clothes and be so with it that every time I went out in my cool car people would say, "Wow, she is such a cool Mom." WRONG!

Not only am I not cool anymore (my being cool in the first place is debatable), but I could really care less. I am so busy that being the cool Mom is the last thing on the priority list. Plus with the Wee Ladies, some cool things have had to be pushed aside. Like:

-up to date wardrobe
-new fun shoes
-fresh make up (mine has now pretty much expired)
-cool car
-partying

I am still wearing clothes from the 90's. Some of it I am too attached to, like my gray fuzzy Patagonia fleece with the cigarette hole in the shoulder, and I refuse to part with it. Maybe it is my last attempt to hang onto anything that was remotely cool about me (again debatable). I live in track pants and t-shirts. Hubby now has better clothes than I do. True story. He gets to wear cool shirts and ties. I barely have anything to wear if we go out without the Wee Ladies. I go season by season and right now I have to go out and buy an outfit to wear to a function we are attending in a couple of weeks....because I have nothing and have been pregnant or in between babies for the last 5 years.

I just bought new flip flops. FINALLY. After 7 years of wearing the same worn out Addidas flip flops, I bit the bullet and opened my wallet to buy new ones. They are nothing fancy. Black and brown because they go with everything.

My make up is the same MAC make up I have been wearing for the past decade. I don't wear a lot and I'm talking eye shadow and blush (weird word). I also have a few lip sticks and glosses that have been kicking around for about the same time span. I do however get mascara every few months. For the most part, I leave the house looking like a bag lady. I don't even do my hair. I never did though. I just put it back and I don't always brush it either. I never understand how some Moms find the time to do their hair. It astonishes me really.

I have friends who laugh at me when they see me pull up in our frosty blue MINI VAN. They say, "You are driving a van! You always said you would never, ever, ever drive a van! I can't believe it!" Well, I AM. We were very fortunate that my in-laws passed it onto us when The Destroyer came along. We are very thankful. However, I will argue that there is nothing cool about a van. It is the epitome of family mobile. That is the stage we are at now and we have three kids. There is no other vehicle that comfortably seats three kids unless it is a HUGE EXPENSIVE SUV. I think that the auto makers and car seat makers have collaborated and have a deal together that says, "Families with three or more kids must drive a Mini Van. The amount of stuff they cart with them everywhere is just not cool, so we are going to put them into a practical and safe vehicle that does not exude any coolness at all." Plus these companies want us to buy bigger cars to fit the big car seats. They want us to spend money and they have locked us into paying for big vehicles. Not to mention paying for the gas. The gas companies are in on this too.

I don't party anymore. I can't. My ability to carry on with those cool people that can go out and stay out past 11:00 pm has completely disappeared. I have a hard time staying out past my bedtime (10:00 pm) and when I do go out I am always looking at my watch thinking, "It's almost my bed time. I am exhausted and I will have to be up in 4 hours to feed and then up another 2 hours after that for the day. I have to go home." And then I pull the chute. I can not keep up with the best of them. Because if I did try to stay out, I would be a complete wreck the next day and then the Wee Ladies would suffer my wrath. That is not pretty to witness or fall victim to. Ask Hubby.

So I have lost my coolness factor. It's ok. I would rather get my sleep and enjoy the days with the Wee Ladies. I like to go out occasionally and I like new things to change it up a bit. I find that I don't have the dying desire to go out or have the latest trendy stuff. I don't have the time or the money to go out on a spending spree for me. I also don't worry about being the 'Cool Mom' either. I am going to be me. I don't care if it is cool or not.

My definition of cool has changed. It is not about how much I have or how good I look or how many beers I can consume in a night. A decent conversation and the realness of people is what I think is cool now. CBC Radio is cool to me now. I love it. I used to think it was so lame. I love to think and discuss things now. I am not into the coolness of surface stuff because to me, that stuff doesn't matter anymore. Maybe it is because the Wee Ladies are what's important to me and I don't want them to think that being cool is to have the latest stylish stuff all the time. It doesn't define you. So I have changed. I hope for the better.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM

As I prepared for and entered Dress Down Momhood I had such visions. Visions of how attentive and diligent and careful I was going to be as we raised the first Wee Lady. I read book upon book upon book before EvieG was born and I knew exactly how things were going to be. Or at least how I was going to be. Uh huh. Didn't quite turn out like I thought it would. There were things I swore I would never do, but did.

Things like:

1. I will never to let my child(ren) watch more that one 30 minute time slot of telelvision a day.
Uh huh. Like that EVER happened. I went sooooo far beyond ever even coming close to living by that rule. I think EvieG's first exposure to TV was when she was 2 months old and we did everything in our power to stop her from crying between the hours of 7:00 pm and 9:00 pm. After building some major glute and quad muscles from walking up and down the stairs to soothe her, the only thing that seemed to calm her down was an episode of The Simpson's. We start 'em young in our house. Now that the weather is nice we watch TV a bit in the morning and then a bit in the afternoon and then a bit at night before bed. Hey, at least that's better than the all day Treehouse TV marathons we had going on for a while this past winter.

I don't even give it a second thought when the Wee Ladies go over to someone else's house and the TV is on and they all start singing the theme songs in unison. To ALL the shows. Whatever. We watch some TV at our house. No big deal. They do lots of other stuff and get outside. Most days...kidding. Their brains are not melting. Yet.

2. I will not expose my child(ren) to fast food.
Uh huh. I think the first symbol the Wee Ladies became familiar with was not a STOP sign, but the Golden Arches. Not only that, but Pavlov's Conditioning totally sets in as we drive through a Tim Horton's drive thru-I knew my Psych 101 class was good for something. When we drive thru at Timmy's (or Decaf With Double Cream as EvieG refers to it) the Wee Ladies get one sniff of the starchy and caffeinated goodness and they start going bananas. "Timbits, Timbits!" they shout. And they start salivating at the mouth. Just like Pavlov's dogs. Fear not, good readers. I don't always give into the demands for junk. Just sometimes. When I am lazy and don't feel like cooking, or if I feel like they need a little treat because they are so cute.

I wonder though if I am instilling coffee code into their wee bodies? Do they have a chance? A chance to say no to coffee as they grow up? Or should I just throw up my hands and accept the fact that they have been wired from a young age to inevitably become addicted to coffee? This is what I think about as I drive thru for the third time in one day with them belted in behind me, unable to remove themselves from the aromas that infiltrate the van and send them into sensory overload. I will try and convince them that decaf is the way to go.

3. I will limit the amount of sugar my child(ren) will eat.
Uh huh. See above. We like treats. I like baking. What can I say?

4. I will never heat up the bottles in the microwave.
Uh huh. I tried putting it in hot water for about one night. Anything to feed faster in order to get back to bed sooner. There is nothing less appealing than waiting for the water to get hot, put the bottle in, stare at it until the chill wears off....No time. Sleep was already something to be cherished and savoured. I couldn't bear to lose any more. And for the record, the bottles I used were Bisphenol A free and they were only in the microwave for a few seconds.

5. I will never buy baby food in a jar.
Uh huh. I tried making it for about one day. I personally found it to be a pain in the you-know-what and I decided PC Organics and I were going to become best friends. And we did. Simple. Easy. Healthy. Done. I will say that the only thing I made myself is the meat. I boiled it for about 10 minutes and then put it in the blender with water and put it in the freezer. One smell of the jarred meat and I wanted to vomit. True story.

Those are just five of the many examples of things I said I would never do, but did. The Wee Ladies are happy and healthy and to me these things I said I would never do but did fit our lifestyle. It worked and still works. I look back on the so-called rules I set for the girls and myself. I scoff and think, "Like that would ever happen...a half hour of TV. Ha!" I try to make good decisions and there will be leniences for sure. Everything in moderation. My views were so far one way that it was too rigid for us. We have since found a good balance, but we also have relapses. There are definitely weeks where we have a few too many trips to Decaf With Double Cream. No harm done in the grand scheme of things.

All's I'm sayin' all.

Labels: Guilt

There was a disgruntled man in the house this morning. Yep, Hubby was quite cross with me. Apparently (I only have a vague recollection of this) I woke out of a dead sleep and borderline shouted, "Someone is up! Someone is making noise. Are you going to go and check the girls? It's your turn! I am sleeping." I woke him out of his sound and truly restful sleep, which I will say doesn't happen very often to Hubby. He just doesn't know when to shut er' down. I have no problem turning off the engines at night.

Let me be clear before I go on. Hubby does more than his fair share of helping out when it comes to the Wee Ladies. He is really amazing with them and they all think he's the best thing ever. Sometimes (okay, a lot of the time) they even go to him before they come to me. That's ok. We are a united front. I love watching Hubby and the Wee Ladies cuddling and playing. He really is a fab Dad. I tell this story with a smirk on my face.

So up he gets from bed and goes down the hall to check on the Wee Ladies. Spark Plug went to bed with a 101.6 fever, so she was kind of restless. Turns out she was wedged in between her mattress and the side wall of her bed. Once Hubby came to the rescue and fixed her back up, she wanted him to stay. So in order to avoid one cry turning into three cries, he stayed for a few minutes. How they have Hubby wrapped...it is so endearing yet terrifying at the same time.

He plodded back down the hall and fell into bed. I didn't feel any of this because I was snuggly, cozy warm on our Kingcoil. I wouldn't even be able to feel a bowling ball being dropped onto our mattress, it is that deluxe. Once back in bed, he stewed. He couldn't get back to sleep because I woke him up because I was sleeping. It's like the time when I went out (yes, walked to the party location) to tell my friend Missy that I wasn't coming out and then I turned around and went back home. True story. At least I was polite enough to tell him that I was sleeping.

Here comes the guilt...even though he was kidding and didn't try to make me feel guilty on purpose. This morning I was jokingly snubbed because Hubby felt he was unjustly awakened to deal with Spark Plug. We bantered back and forth and I reminded him how easy it is to forget about the approximately 22 months total of nightly feeds. He did some of them, but then as each Wee Lady came along, his role in the night feeds amazingly became less and less. And I found that even if I said, "It's your turn," it didn't always happen. There was definitely an imbalance in the turn taking at times. Sometimes I insisted on feeding, especially The Destroyer, because she is our last baby and to me, it was my hanging on to the cuddle time. So I don't blame him totally for the imbalance.

I have done more than my fair share of night duty. And just recently The Destroyer has dropped her night feedings. It is so nice to sleep soundly again and not wake up a million times to either feed or go to the bathroom. Let's remember Hubby didn't have to deal with the never ending urge to pee several times a night during pregnancy. Even though he jokes about me waking him up because I was sleeping, my actions were totally justifiable. It's my turn to sleep and it's his turn to be on night duty.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Hubby

I surface clean. I call this Damage Control. I keep up with the daily disturbances that appear throughout the house. It is rare that I put my rubber gloves on, get out the buckets and soap and scrub my tooshie off. No time. But I do Damage Control. Every day. I tidy-constantly. I will pick up stuff that has been strewn all over and organize surface areas. I also vacuum everyday because with the Wee Ladies, the dog and Hubby (who consistently wears his shoes in the house) I have to. Especially when they are all coming in and out from outside. It always makes my day when I have just vacuumed 5 minutes before and then the lot of them run through with mud-caked boots and shoes. I love that.

I clean the counters and keep up with the laundry. I put all of the clothes away and try to keep the closets neat and tidy. I also put toys away and I find that I probably do this more than I should. I should probably get the Wee Ladies to take more ownership in tidying up their messes. But it comes down to this- I hate messes and I hate looking at untidy spaces. So this often gets the better of me and I end up cleaning up just because I don't want to look at it anymore. Simple. Done. Clean.

One thing I am guilty of (and it is solely because of my pride) is cleaning before the cleaning lady comes. True story. She comes every second Monday. And she does a bang up job. These are no doubt my favourite 2 days a month. I love the smell of Murphy's Cleaning Oil when I walk through the door and what makes it an even better smell is that I didn't put it there.

I do my Damage Control before her arrival. I do it so well that sometimes the house looks like I have cleaned it everyday since she was there the last time. It looks so good no one would ever know that a toilet or sink or carpeted floor has not been touched for two weeks. Sometimes I take Lysol wipes and give the sinks a quick wipe out and the toilets one more flush before she comes. I would never want her to know how much of a slacker I am when it comes to my cleaning.

One thing I always do though is sanitize the sinks, counters and my hands if raw meat has come remotely close to touching these surfaces. In university my friend Vee would holler, "Salmonella! Salmonella!" as we prepared our carnivorous dinners. Then she would furiously clean until it was impossible for any germ or one cell organism to survive. I never got past this and I still do it to this day when I prepare dinner.

I feel guilty sometimes that I can only find time to do Damage Control. But on the other hand I would rather spend the time either with the Wee Ladies or doing something fun. Who wants to spend N to the A to the P Time cleaning the toilet and dusting? Thanks but I'll pass. If I can have that extra help every two weeks, well to me it is money well spent and it's one less thing off the To Do List.

One less thing to worry about when there is a house full of Little Women is less stress in my eyes and I think my Damage Control gets the job done just fine. I think I will just keep up my little facade of cleaning before the cleaning lady comes. It makes her job easier because she doesn't have to clean up after me and it makes my life easier and happier because she doesn't think I live in squalor.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Chores

One of the only places I take the Wee Ladies to is the grocery store. I put Spark Plug and The Destroyer in the seat and EvieG walks with me or hangs off of the cart in some capacity. I don't worry about the Wee Ladies here and I always make sure I slow up traffic by walking down the middle of the aisles. I pull over if I absolutely have to. The last thing I need to hear is, "Clean up on Aisle 5," because The Destroyer decided to grab a jar of pickles off the shelf.

I spend a lot of time in the produce section. Our store has an organic section and I constantly drag the Wee Ladies back and forth between the organic and non-organic sections comparing prices. I can't afford to buy all organic. So I like to make the best reasonable choices for my family as far food is concerned. It has to fit my budget, which is pretty tight right now. I buy seasonal local produce, organic tree fruits, some veggies, and dairy when I can. I buy local meat that is hormone and anti-biotic free.

I get scared when I read about pesticides and the effects they have on us and the environment and I get scared for the Wee Ladies and the Earth they are going to grow up in. I am also afraid that Hubby or I is going to get cancer of some kind and it sometimes keeps me up at night. True story. You can't help but think about these things when the Wee Ladies are dependent on you!

I took a look at apples. The 3 lb bag of PC Gala Canada Fancy apples is $4.99 and the non-organic bag is $2.49. That's $2.50 more for the organic bag. Is it worth the extra cost for about a dozen smallish sized apples?

I would rather cut out the extra 1 1/2 Tim Horton's large coffees and buy the organic apples, knowing that they are one of the most highly sprayed fruits out there. I say the Wee Ladies are worth that extra cost. That extra $2.50 is couch change.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: FYI

So long gone are the days of refusing to schedule classes before 10:30 am. Now that I am a Dress Down Mom, I wake up every morning and I mutter hoarsely to anyone who will listen, "Just 5 more minutes. Pullleeeezzze!", and I proceed to roll over a couple of times, pull myself into the fetal position and cry as the Wee Ladies dance over me on the bed. Then they turn all of the lights on, pull up the blinds and demand to be fed and watered. These days are particularly horrific when the sun comes beaming through the window before 7:00 am and you have spent the majority of the night running from kid to kid, either because of a wet bed or someone was cold or because the Thunderstorm Consoling Team was on duty. "Look Mommy and Daddy! It's not bedtime! It's light out! It's not black out anymore!" shouts EvieG in the same high-pitched tone she uses Christmas morning.

I roll out of bed and put on my comfies. I don't shower anymore unless it is during nap time or before bed. I do brush my teeth though and that is one thing to check off the To Do List. Hubby gets a shower every morning. How unfair! He has to wear a suit though and I live in my comfies, so it all kind of balances out that way. As Hubby leaves for the office, I am already in the thick of dealing with diapers, dressing and breakfast. As the day moves on, I am immersed in the multi-tasking of managing the Wee Ladies, the house, errands, and meals. Then alas, noon arrives. After lunch there is some relief. N to the A to the P Time.

Some days I have nap time to myself because EvieG is at school. The other days she is home with me and that means I am her built in entertainment for the afternoon. We bake, play games, practice piano, do crafts...but not all the time. Sometimes I like to play the Quiet Game with her. During this time I write or play Scrabulous with Nenny With Twins or get caught up on celebrity gossip. You know, all the important things. I always get what seems like a gazillion "Mom! I need you!", or "Mom can I...?" And I think to myself JUST 5 MORE MINUTES!

What she hears a gazillion times a day is "Just a minute!" I say it all the time. So many times that I recently tallied the number of times I said it in 24 hours. The magic number? 22. Yes, you read correctly. That is 22 times in a day. Which is 154 times a week, 660 times every month and 8030 times a year. Add another 22 times on that for a leap year. These are approximate numbers. I would like to think that most days it would be less times, but I have an eerie feeling that the number is probably higher....I didn't include months that have 31 days.

Guilty feelings? Of course. Always. But I can't be everywhere and doing everything all at once! I'm not Wonder Woman, although her costume is pretty cool. I can only do what I can do. Yes, I admit I say "Just a minute" sometimes when it is not warranted. There are times when I delay in getting to the Wee Ladies because of a really interesting Youtube video, or because I am in the middle of emailing or an important Scrabulous move. Strategizing takes time. There are other times when the constant pestering cannot be given in to right away and I am legitimately busy doing Mom stuff and the "Just a minute" is completely acceptable and appropriate.

I spend a lot of quality time with the Wee Ladies and I cherish every day with them. What is just as important is that I require time to myself. If I am not good to myself and don't have any time to decompress then I won't be good to anyone else. So who is one more "Just a minute" going to hurt? They get enough quick responses from me already. What's just 5 more minutes? My sanity intact.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Enjoy your weekend. Please come back next week for more from this Dress Down Mom.

Upcoming posts: Weekly List, FYI For This Monday: Apples to Apples, Damage Control, and more.

Labels: Guilt

Are they talking about me? What are they saying about us? I dread the days that I have to take the Wee Ladies to places other than the grocery store or Wal*Mart. Those places have carts designated to restrain two kids and the other(s) can sit in the cart (yes, I do that) or walk with you. Physically these stores have a huge space where other families are roaming around and other kids are going haywire alongside mine. No one is judging me.

It is the other places like offices and banks of any kind where the professionals are diligently working and most often it is quietly. Enter the Wee Ladies. Prior the stepping foot into the place of business I tell the wee ladies, "Now we are going into the office. People are working and need it quiet. Please mind your manners and stay with me. Don't be wandering off or run around because you don't want to be rude. Do you understand?" I get a firm "Yes, Mommy," in return- always. And it ALWAYS goes awry.

Take for instance today's episode. I had to go into the lawyer's office to sign some papers (and yes, my marriage is still strongly intact). I went through my spiel before getting the Wee Ladies out of the van. There was a good understanding. Or so I thought. We were greeted and then sent into the conference room. Once in the room, the baby demons were released. Climbing on the chairs, looking out the window, running around the table and shouting. While I was trying to have a professional adult conversation I was constantly giving the ladies the laser eye beam stare-down and with my frozen smile and gritted teeth I would say, "Girls settle down please." It took everything I had not to 'let my freak flag fly' as another Mommy I know with three girls would say.

Eventually, the wee ladies exited the conference room and proceeded to run laps around the office, clearly disturbing every working individual in the building. I was mortified. The people in the office were staring at them and then over to me. With pursed lips they would giggle slightly....ha, ha, ha. I apologized profusely, they reassured me that it was okay. "This is exciting for us here! They are so cute! You have your hands full. Don't worry about it!" TRANSLATION: " How can she let them run around like a bunch of maniacs? What a bunch of brats. I can't wait until they leave." Let the judging of your mothering abilities begin.

I try so hard to make sure my Wee Ladies are polite and courteous when in public. The bottom line is that they get excited when they go to new places and meet new people. They want to check out the place and explore a little. I hate feeling like I am being judged by others when I take them out to places where they can get a little out of control. And it's not only places of business, but it can be other Moms who judge you too, and sometimes they are even worse, which is really annoying. But that is a topic for another day. And I will write about that....

All we can do is our best. People always judge and people are always going to be critical. That is just the way it is. I still can't help but feel defensive when I feel as if the Wee Ladies or I are being judged. It is not a nice feeling. The Wee Ladies are developing good manners and I know that they will learn to use them during the appropriate time.....eventually. But for now, I will continue to take each situation as it is and go with it.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Guilt

Guilty-as-charged. I have done it. I have had some bad parenting moments. These moments have ranged from the occasional wrist slap to the roof top blow out to the "What was I thinking to let that happen?" True story. Along with already feeling guilty about pretty much everything I do these days, these instances are moments that continuously come back to haunt me as I over-analyze about what I did or did not do in a particular bad parenting moment. My reflecting is a problem sometimes and I think that perhaps therapy might help. Reflection is supposed to make me a better Mom, but the bad news is that these moments still occur.

My first bad parenting moment ever was back in 2004 when EvieG was just starting to crawl. Our laundry area is in the upstairs hallway which happens to overlook the extra wide, cushiony carpet staircase. I was putting a load of wash into the dryer as EvieG played down the hall. Here is my thought process and yes I still remember it:

"Oh look at her. She is so cute. She is doing so well! She is so smart! She is all the way down there and I am all the way over here. I see the gate is open, but she is just starting to crawl and there is no way she is that fast. She'll be fine."

I was a new Mom and had never really been around a crawling baby before. I also thought my reflexes were fast enough to close the gate if I needed to. I began to transfer the clothes and then I looked over and- OMG! All I saw was EvieG creep over the top stair on her belly and then off she went. I was in sheer panic mode as I watched her fall head over heels all the way down with her arms and legs flailing all over and with increased momentum. I was one step behind the whole way and nothing I could do could stop it. Once at the bottom, she fell onto the hardwood with a big thud as her baby noggin hit with fierce force. I was mortified and I was thinking, "Do I move her? Is she hurt? Is she bleeding? Are there any broken bones? OMG!" EvieG got up onto all fours and started crying. I picked her up and hugged her, not too tightly just in case I might break something. She stopped crying in about 20 seconds and it was over. Just as quickly as it had started. I cried longer than 20 seconds.

What a stupid thing for me to do! When Hubby got home I had to show him what happened in detail. I had him stand at the top of the stairs and watch as I tossed down my stuffed teddy bear. Just so he could see how it looked and just so, if for only a split second, he could experience what I did. We still talk about it today as he laughs about the bear toss. I laugh, but not really.

I find that bad parenting moments come when I am tired. Especially at the end of the day after dealing with the wee ladies all day. My voice gets short, sharp and sometimes snappy. I am working on it. I try to think about what I am going to say before I say it, but sometimes it just spurts out. I worry that they will start talking like that to each other or to other people.

Bad parenting moments are going to happen. They are inevitable. I try to be proactive and not reactive but at the same time I let them fall. Poor Destroyer has more bruises on her. I don't jump to save them every time they tumble down and get a scrape or bruise. I will blow on it to make it feel better and provide them with a Princess Band Aid though.

My pal Nenny With Twins called last week to tell me about her first bad parenting moment. I reassured her that this was probably the first of many. Sharing stories with her made her feel a little bit better I think- I hope. It makes me feel better too because I can tell another Mom about my own tales and woes of bad parenting moments and am able to talk about the guilt that I carry. There it is! This is my therapy! Why pay a head doctor when I can call Nenny With Twins?

All's I'm sayin's all.

Note: Feel free to share any of your bad parenting experiences in the comment box! It's therapeutic to talk about it.

Labels: Guilt

There is nothing worse than sick kids. Crankiness, snotty noses, fevers...it sucks. During these times, Tylenol and Dimetapp are my best friends. We were sick for what seems like an eternity this winter. Starting from January until mid-March it was one sneeze and then another followed by a triple invasion of pink eye. They fall like dominoes and then just when I thought we were germ free, another virus would come and knock on my front door only to push me aside- even though I was on the defensive with full helmet, knee pads, elbow pads and my can of Lysol waiting for a take down. Time and time again, I lost each battle.

What is a Dress Down Mom to do then? Well, one could spend the days washing hands, put the kids in isolation from each other (good luck) and obsessively Lysol everything in sight several times a day and lose OR one could wipe the noses and let them work it through, occasionally Lysol and keep separate cloths for them. Oh, and not to forget medicating every 4 to 6 hours as recommended on the bottle. I chose the latter and I have personally thrown in the towel when it comes to battling germs.

Take for example last week's trip to the hospital for a routine check up for EvieG. My Mother In Law came to help me with the other Wee Ladies. THANK GOODNESS! It was mayhem and I had to do everything in my power not to fall asleep at the wheel on the way home. It's not often that I voluntarily crank up The Hokey Pokey. Yep, there's me- head out the window Ace Ventura styles with one hand on the wheel and the other on an extra large Skinny Mocha Latte from Starbucks speeding at 120 km per hour down a major 400 highway.

We had to wait for about an hour and the nurse sent us to the waiting room. It was a kids room. Upon entering, it was almost like you could see the layers of germs covering every square inch of the space, not to mention the other people hacking all over the place. My first reaction was, "Is there anywhere else we can go?" But then I looked at the Wee Ladies and then over to the toys and then over to Toy Story 2 playing on the TV. And then I thought, "Never mind. If they are going to get it, they are going to get it somewhere else." There was built in entertainment here. Craft table included. They touch everything anyway. Plus, The Destroyer is walking but still ends up on the floor, which she did here- many times. After the appointment was over, we got them into the car and I used the trusty old Wipes to clean their hands. Then we went and had lunch in the mall where Spark Plug proceeded to try and pick up fallen food off the floor and eat it.

We are still alive.

I washed my hands of my OCD nature when it comes to germs and realized that I can keep fighting until I am blue in the face to keep the germs away. But it ain't gonna happen. I can keep their hands and faces relatively clean (although they have been known to go into public with breakfast face a few times) and I can keep the house moderately sanitized (you don't want to see my floors right before the cleaning lady comes and she comes bi-weekly). The bottom line is that I can't stop the kids from wanting to be kids, meaning that they will always have the undying need to explore, roam around, put stuff in their mouths etc. So I have washed my hands of my germ phobias.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle

My daughter EvieG likes to pick things. She picks anything she can ranging from flowers to Locust tree pods to bugs to worms to garbage. Last year we had no spring flowers in the backyard. Just green stems. And as soon as there was any hint of colour out there, it was gone within minutes. True story. Her favourite thing to pick right now is garbage.

As a way for people to voice their concerns about climate change, people around the world turned out their lights for one hour. Earth Hour took place globally last week. Our household was one of the millions to participate. It was an enormous success and I hope that it is a catalyst for bigger changes to come.

EvieG and Spark Plug stayed up with us for the duration of Earth Hour. What an adventure for the Wee Ladies. The Destroyer was out like a light (no pun intended) at 7:00. For the other two it was emotion overload. Along with the learning experience there was excitement, fear, confusion and the on the edge of your seat anticipation of what was going to happen next as they have no concept of time. Just like watching Ross and Rachel's relationship during the 10 year run of Friends. What craziness!

As Hubby and I enjoyed a bbq'ed T-Bone and grass (asparagus) dinner via candlelight, the Wee Ladies ran around with the flashlights. Round and round in circles like a dog chasing its tail, they were chasing each other. During all of this action though we had a chance to talk to EvieG about why we had the lights off. Here's how it went down:

EvieG: Why are we in the dark? Why did we turn the lights off?

Dress Down Mom: Because we want to help the Earth.

EvieG: What's wrong with the Earf?

Dress Down Mom: The Ear-th is sick and we need to help it get better.

EvieG: Why is it sick? Does it have a cold?

Dress Down Mom: No, it doesn't have a cold, but people have put a lot of poisons into the air and water and onto the land. And now we want to try and stop all of that garbage from hurting the Ear-th. We want the plants, animals and people to grow up healthy and be able to live in a clean place so they don't get sick too.

EvieG: Is the Earf going to get better?

Dress Down Mom: Well, we have to help it get better by turning off our lights when we can and pick up garbage and (interrupted)-

EvieG: Ya, and if we pick up all the garbage, it will make the land clean and the Earf won't be sick!

Dress Down Mom: Yes, that's right. Because the Ear-th doesn't want to have all that garbage on it all the time. So maybe we can go out and pick up the garbage when we see it and put it in the garbage can or the recycling bin where it's supposed to be.

EvieG: That sounds good! Maybe tomorrow we can go outside for a walk and we can pick up the garbage so the Earf doesn't get sick anymore.

Since the learning experience of Earth Hour, EvieG has helped clean up the backyard and during her walks to the Purple Park a couple of blocks away, Hubby has had to physically restrain her from running out onto the road to go and pick up blowing garbage. Good for her. Good for her for taking the responsibility on her own to make the Earf better. But not so good that she was running out into traffic. On the way home from school today she picked up an egg carton, a can and a plastic bottle and put them all into the Blue Box. Yay! I made sure she washed her hands after that.

After our discussions and her eagerness to clean the Earf I was thinking that I forgot to tell her about things not to pick up. I just hope that between now and the next garbage picking she won't stumble upon any glass, sharp needle like objects or anything of the latex variety.

I worry about our kids and the world they are growing up in and I often think about what they will see and experience in their lifetime. I just want to make sure we do our best to teach them that they can change things.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Responsibility

My waxing usually costs $30.00 tip in. That covers bikini area, underarms and eyebrows. M'lady is amazing. She is in her 80's and does a fab job. True story.

Last time I had my lower legs done because I loathe shaving and it is a problem for Hubby at times....it's not exactly sexy to have 'a forest' when trying to have an intimate moment. Usually it's so long that it is soft. Just like newly shaved legs and he forgets about it (I think).

The lower leg cost $15.00. But after 2 weeks I started having regrowth. It hurts! Like when you shiver, or after the cold air hits after a shower. It hurts and prickles! Now it's been 3 weeks and I already have full growth back.

I have decided that lower leg is not worth it and I am going to try and shave more. $15.00 every month adds up. I could really use $180.00 a year on something else, like clothes.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: FYI

Let me paint the picture for you. I am a Dress Down mother of 3 girls and have gone between the working mom world and the stay at home world in varying degrees over the past 4 years. I am currently a part of the 'At Home Full Time' camp and am very busy with the non-stop "Mommy!" that takes me through my days.

Time is both a friend and foe to me. We have a love-hate relationship. I love time most of the time, especially when the Wee Ladies are healthy, fed, in good moods and cuddly. I love being a mom and love spending time with them and I recognize that I am very lucky to have the Wee Ladies around. Time is a foe when they have sour days and bedtime couldn't come fast enough. I confess, I have been known to make any associated bedtimes come earlier than usual-sometimes even an hour or so earlier. Therefore the time I give to myself or to my marriage is minuscule it seems. I get to the gym (always with one of the Wee Ladies) and the grocery store. Any kind of self maintenance like hair, doctor physicals, dentist, waxing, requires scheduling with third parties, like my Mother In Law or a babysitter. Having a social life even becomes an issue. At least my Mother In Law gets in grandparenting time whereas a babysitter costs money and then the social time costs even more! I am forever at the mercy of others!

With this mercy comes guilt, the forever nagging guilt that mothers feel when they want to do something with or without the Hubby, even if it's as simple as running errands. I feel guilty for leaving, guilty for screwing up someone else's schedule to come and babysit, guilty that I have to spend money, guilty that I need this time to myself, guilty for spending some quality time with Hubby, guilty for working and leaving my kids to be taken care of by someone else. I feel guilty for feeling guilty. I gotta get over it. Some days I do and I feel no guilt, but that is rare. Because as mothers, we think of others first all the time, even if they aren't our kids. Buying a new pair of jeans? New clothes? Make up? Anything that does not require being weighed or scanned via UPC Code? Rare incidents of that these days. The kids ALWAYS need SOMETHING. Besides feeling guilty about all of this, there is NO TIME!

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Guilt