The Wee Ladies have a lot of great people in their lives. The many Aunties are some of these people. I have some great girlfriends from school who live in Toronto. There are others too, but today I am writing about 3 of them. And I am going to visit them tomorrow. Without kids. Yes, friends. Another G.A.W.K.. And Hubba Hubba Hubby is staying home to be with the Wee Ladies.

I am going to spend 24 hours hanging with my girls. I am going to leave first thing in the morning and spend the afternoon with Auntie Lisa and possibly Auntie Missy. Nenny With Twins is another Auntie who cannot get out for the afternoon, but will for a late dinner at 7:00 pm (this is late for us with kids. And a luxury to eat at a normal dinner hour as opposed to the usual Early Bird dinners).

Auntie Lisa is a best friend of mine. We met in our last year of high school and went on to the same university. We didn't hang out at all in high school. She didn't dig my lifestyle of cigarettes, beer, and going for coffee-all day, everyday. But she came around (giggle!) and in university we became pals. She was in the same residence as Auntie Missy and I. After a night of debauchery she came and rescued me from my Rubbermaid container. I fell into and broke my Rubbermaid container. All I could do was reach for the phone and speed dial Lisa on my pink and white Barbie phone that I had from the age of 13. From that point on, we were best buds.

Auntie Lisa is so good to our family. She comes down to visit and spends time with the Wee Ladies. They are in love with her. She has always been a solid supporter of me and isn't afraid to tell it like it is. It was her birthday this week and so I am going to take her for a sushi lunch and we are going to shop around tomorrow. And then go for dinner and out for a few drinks. YAY!!

Auntie Missy is also another fab friend from our last year of high school. She did agree with my lifestyle and was right in there with me. And for years after that. We went on to be roommates all through university. She is full of life and is about to become a Mommy for the first time in August. It's a boy too, so I can't wait to move myself in for a few days to help and hold the newbie.

I have often referred to my head doctor Nenny With Twins on this blog. We met in our first year of university and lived together in 3rd year. We travelled the UK in 2000 for 5 weeks and had a blast. She is one of those people who is not only on the same page with me, but sometimes I think we share a brain. We have the same sense of humour, get each other's jokes, and love the same things. Like orange Fanta and Yorkie chocolate bars from the UK. I don't have a relationship like this with anyone else in the world. We used to have Bingo Tuesdays in university where we would buy a Bingo lottery ticket and play side by side flailing Bingo shrapnel all over the table and floor (the stuff that you scratch off of the lottery card). She has her beautiful twins now and we talk pretty much everyday. Sometimes for a long time. She was instrumental in my starting this blog.

I love that I have such great friendships that have taken us through the years. The Wee Ladies are lucky to have the many Aunties too. I know that the Wee Ladies will really benefit from having the Aunties around because they will all make sure that they don't end up with bad Grade 8 graduation or prom dresses- ever. They will see to it that they stay hip and with the times.

It is also great that they see the importance of having good, close girlfriends in life. Without them, it would be a lonely existence. The support, the laughter, and the fun is something that keeps me grounded and keeps me sane. I need them. And I hope that the Wee Ladies will grow to value and find some true friends of their own.

All's I'm sayin' all.

Have a fun weekend! Be back Monday!

Labels: Family

Thank goodness for kid-loving Good Samaritans. If I use the words kid and Good Samaritans in the same sentence, then you know it's a doozy of a story. I had a Bad Mommy Moment yesterday afternoon. I was almost one Wee Lady less.

The Wee Ladies were playing in our foliage-abundant backyard as I was preparing dinner. EvieG was in her tree fort, Spark Plug collecting rocks, and The Destroyer bulldozing the flora and fauna. Our backyard is like Fort Knox. It is its own gated community. A blockaded gate on one side of the house and a huge wood gate on the other. The entire yard is fenced. There is no where they can escape to. Until a gate is accidentally left open.

I do a head count every couple of minutes. Just after I took the ends off the asparagus, I looked out for the three wee heads. EvieG-check. Spark Plug-check. Destroyer-Destroyer-where is The Destroyer? I ran out and started running through the greenery, but could not locate her. Just as I was running to the side of the house where the big gate is, I heard the doorbell ring. I turned the corner and much to my bewilderment, the gate was open! S*#t!

I ran out to the front of the house. There was The Destroyer in the arms of a Good Samaritan. Here is how it went down:

GS: Does this belong to you?

DDM: Yes, yes she does. Thank you.

GS: Well, she was almost on the road and I thought I had better pull over and get her before she went onto the street.

DDM: Well, thanks. I am glad you did! She escaped through a gate that is never open. And she is fast.

GS: Well, I just wanted to make sure she was safe.

DDM: Thanks so much. I appreciate that.

As she was walking back to her van, she said:

GS: I hope you don't feel like you have just received the Bad Mother of the Year Award or anything.

I am thinking, let the Mommy judgment begin......

DDM: No, not at all. No I don't. Thanks. These things happen sometimes.

The funniest part was that the GS was a former parent of mine. I think I taught her daughter last year. Oops. Slacker Mom, I am.

I am so glad that someone caring brought her home and that she wasn't a) taken away, or b) flattened. It all happened so fast and it only took a few seconds for her to get out of my line of vision.

I don't know if the GS judged me or not. But when things like this happen and the safety of a child is put at risk, chances are there is some judgment placed upon you by others. There is nothing we can do about it, except realize that we are not perfect. We learn from it, move on, and thank the skies above that the kids are safe.

Here is another story for you:

Another Mom of 3 took her second child to nursery school. This child was having trouble leaving Mom, so she brought the 10 month old along to help make the child feel better. The child's best friend was absent and so the fussing began. To get this child dropped off, the mother quickly put the baby on the floor of the cloak room, signed the child in, and quickly exited in order to avoid a melt down. She got out and headed home. Not too far from her house, she noticed it was a little quiet in the car. She looked in the back and realized she had left the baby on the floor of the cloak room. TRUE STORY!

She turned around and flew back to the school, only to arrive to looks of stupefaction. Mortified she took the child and left. She probably feels like she will be forever branded as The Mom Who Left Her Baby Behind. Poor Mom. She will be the talk of the staff and the other Moms, no doubt. I hope she isn't made to feel like a bad parent.

When we are busy with kids we go into auto-pilot mode. We go through the motions that take us through the days. I was preparing dinner and trying to look after multiple things at once. This other Mom didn't usually take the baby to drop the child off at nursery school and so kept to the normal auto-pilot routine. But sometimes the auto-pilot malfunctions.

What we have to do as mothers is support each other when these things happen. Guilt is going to overcome us when we have Bad Mommy Moments and we are going to beat ourselves up over it. We don't need others to judge us and make us feel worse. Instead we need to help each other through reassurance by sharing stories and feelings. Also by talking about where things might have gone wrong. Do we have too much going on? Are we doing too much at once? Do we need more help?

Pretty much every Mom I have shared stories with has a doozy like these ones. We are all human and we are going to have Bad Mommy Moments at some time or another. We need to remember this and in turn take this reality and use it to help other Moms get over their own personal parenting glitches. I know I always feel relieved when I hear other Moms share their own Bad Mommy Moments. I think, thank goodness it's not just me going through this.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, Guilt

Today I gloat. Today I am writing about Hubby. I am so glad I am married to Hubby. I can't even begin to tell you how much this guy amazes me. And on an ongoing basis too. He is the best husband and dad. His Wee Ladies worship him and literally cling to him when he is home. We just can't get enough of Hubby.

Hubby is by far the most thoughtful, selfless, and compassionate person I know. He gives his all to his family and relationships and always thinks realistically about everything. He has a unique perspective on life. He thinks outside the box and I am not trying to be cliche here. He really does. He is creative and can solve problems like I have never seen before. He is an inventor, but more on that another time. Hubby has problems sleeping because he is always thinking. He figures stuff out. Hubby is handy, can fix anything, and he helps out with everything.

Yesterday was a crappy day as you all know from the previous post. I took EvieG to her final dance class and Hubby came and rescued me by taking the other Wee Ladies home. I told him I had put out some ground beef for burgers. No problem. Hubby is good like that. He is my man of a zillion trades. Cooking included. I came home expecting the BBQ to be on and burgers grilling. Much to my surprise I find none other than a.....MEAT LOAF IN THE OVEN! I almost cried. I was in pure and utter shock and awe. He cooks and all, but this? I don't even cook meat loaf for crying out loud! And it had ketchup drizzled across the top like when chocolate sauce decoratively crosses the dessert plate! Look at this!

Along with the Meat Loaf there was a frying pan full of veggies sauteing with herbs, spices, and a dabbling of olive oil. My god! Who sent this man from the heavens for me?

Sit down friends because it gets better.

After dinner he pulls out the chocolate pudding from the fridge. As we talk and hang out with the Wee Ladies, he prepares the dessert. He said, "Ok, here's your pudding!" I look over to the counter and I get this!

Chocolate pudding with whipped cream, mini M&Ms and a fat chocolate chip on top. CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS OR CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS? It was the best pudding I have ever had. It's times like this I think to myself, 'So why can't I find the energy to you-know-what everyday with this guy? I need to find THAT ENERGY! Give me the strength to find the energy!'

I am telling you, I DO NOT for one second take this guy for granted. I am so thankful that we are together and that we are the best of friends. He is my muse. I think all the time about how I love our life together and we have been together for almost 10 years. But it definitely doesn't feel like that long. I always think about how I want to be one of those old, wrinkly couples who are attached at the hip (replacements and all) and go everywhere, do everything together, and do everything for each other. Like put in each other's teeth.

I really hope that the Wee Ladies find a guy, or girl for that matter, like Hubby. I also hope that the Wee Ladies will be picky when it comes to their boyfriends/girlfriends because there will be no one like their Dad. And those significant others will know as soon as they come into our house and go through their usual interrogations that Hubby is someone you don't want to mess with. I am sure he will have the boy/girlfriend come in, sit down, and in 50 words or less write why it is NOT a good idea to touch his daughter.

We love Hubby to bits. I know that we will have many great years together as a family. And I know that there is going to be a whole lot more Meat Loaf to come. With ketchup.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Hubby

I have ants in my pants. I have days (usually directly linked to hormones or fatigue) when I want to go somewhere or do something different. Something out of the ordinary. I love staying home with the Wee Ladies and wouldn't trade that for anything, but some days I just want to get out.

I can be a bit of a dreamer. I find it motivating. For example, I dream about having the strength and stamina of Madonna. The woman is almost 50 and looks incredible. I want to be strong like that. I just need an influx of money to hire the trainers and find the time and we are good to go. Seriously though, I find her drive motivating. If she has the motivation to accomplish so much, I can too. Maybe in smaller steps.

I feel guilty for wanting to get out. Getting out to go somewhere by myself. Take a trip. Make a career change. I need to put the Wee Ladies first, and that means some things are put on the back burner for a while. It's ok. In the grand scheme of life, this is only short term. It still doesn't change the fact that I have days where I feel sorry that I can't be more well rounded.

I am not complaining because I love that I have the opportunity to be home with the Wee Ladies. But the feeling of stagnancy can get the better of me some days. I have never been one to feel or be stuck or confined, but when there are little kids running around, we have to make sure that they are properly taken care of. Certain sacrifices need to be made.

It is so important for Moms to talk about this. Especially after a long winter of feeling confined. It was this past winter that led to this blog. I needed to do something for me. I really want to write. So this is my way of starting a writing career. Nenny with Twins told me that I am finding my voice. I am exercising the writing part of my brain. To get myself prepared for the bigger goal. I really want to write a book. She and Hubby continually support me with this dream and for that I am so thankful.

I am not wanting to be too melancholy or anything. It is one of those days. I have ants in my pants. I want those ants to push me towards my goals. My journey to reach the goals that I set for myself will make me stronger and will force me to become better balanced.

If I am not good to myself in some capacity, then there is no way I can be good to everyone around me. I have to have something for me, and I don't see this as being selfish. I think it is finding that healthy balance. And everyone will be better off for it.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, Guilt

I have gone through countless changes in my own parenting style since having our first, EvieG. I was over the top structured and regimented when it came to her schedule, routines, and when dealing with parenting issues. Like co-sleeping. I was so anti-co-sleeping when we had EvieG almost 5 years ago. She slept in her crib every night and I had that kid sleeping 12 hours straight by 3 months. Then Spark Plug came along. And some things changed. The whole sleeping department was restructured.

We didn't have EvieG in our bed until she was probably 2 1/2. I just didn't believe in it. I wanted her to sleep in her space, and I wanted to sleep in my space. When Spark Plug came along, not only did this rule that I had created crumble into a past memory, but my whole response and reaction time increased 10 fold. I was like Dot Matrix in Spaceballs (the C3PO character with Joan Rivers' voice). I slept, but not really. Any move, sound, or snarf, and I was up like a shot to deal with it. The result was a well rested EvieG, a pampered Spark Plug, and a tired Mom. I didn't ever want EvieG to wake up so I responded to Spark Plug's every whim. Here's how she sleeps:

- has to have a sound machine because she doesn't like the wind, rain, thunder, or any other noise
- has to have a light on
- has to have her soother and kiki (blanket)
- any ounce of discomfort results in crying (teething was a year and a half of hell)

And now? Monsters, firecrackers (thanks to May 2-4) and the moon. So when she is up in the middle of the night screaming like a banshee, we do the saaaammmeee thing we did before. Sprint to her side. And then depending on the situation sometimes bring her into our b-e-d. There. I said it. We have tried to solve the problem by having sleep overs. Well, guess what? We are now into habit mode. Like I never saw this coming. After all the books I have read that have said in Big-Bold-Letters: DON'T CO-SLEEP WITH YOUR CHILDREN WHEN THERE ARE SLEEPING DIFFICULTIES. Ya, whatever. So we did it. We cuddled and it was nice. Until she started tossing and turning and kicking and hoofing and pounding into me. My poor Lombard area.

Again, we don't want the whole neighbourhood waking up, so we react to her. And now we have a problem. She doesn't want to sleep in her bed. She doesn't want to sleep without someone beside her. She wants someone there to physically hang on to. And just when we think she is asleep, we start backing away sssslllloooowwwwly. All of a sudden her eyes pop open (also like Dot Matrix) and she starts screaming and following us to the door. She pounds on the door like she is being held hostage, begging to be let free.

Last night it was after 10 pm and she finally passed out from exhaustion behind her door on the floor. This is after an hour and a half of crying and carrying on and me going in every 10 to 15 minutes to put her in bed again. She got out of bed at 1 am and passed out behind the door, and again at 4:30 am.

We soothe her calmly, reassure her, and do all the things we are supposed to do. But what is this all about? I thought it was night terrors. I don't know. Is it bad dreams or is it that she wants to sleep in our bed? Because she casually mentioned that desire during a calm break in the storm.

We are not going to bring her into the bed anymore. We don't want her to dislike bedtime and her own bed. Plus I don't want to be confined to a piddly little section of our bed as she and Hubby take up most of the space.

Good thing we see the pediatrician this week. Maybe I should call Supernanny.

Did we create the nighttime monster? Maybe she is scaring herself.

Any thoughts on this subject are welcome.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, DDM, Hubby

Hi, my name is Dress Down Mom and I have a few half-assed habits. I have a problem putting things away neatly and completely. I try to stay neat and tidy, but I have difficulties keeping it this way. I have no problems with the initiation and execution of the task, but then it all goes awry during the latter part of the process. I have three half-assed habits that I am talking about today. This is my first attempt to recovery. Acknowledgement and communication.

This is the inside of my purse. It is disgusting. It would be a miracle if anyone could find anything in there. I hear the phone ring, but can never get to it in time because I am too busy shuffling through the junk. You can see my brown leather wallet (it's Roots), and if you look up to the top of the picture you can see my bank card and a $10 dollar bill. Why can't I just put the money and card into the wallet? Why is it so hard? Because I am rammy and busy. It's easier to pull the money and card out from the pocket instead of getting the wallet out, opening it up, getting the card from the card area and then getting the money from the cash section.....I have a lip gloss, sunglasses, Kleenex, gum, pen and notebook, a tampon, cheque book, receipts, and Dermalogica Multivitamin Power Firm. In-the-box. Why is that even in there? Because I didn't get around to taking it out of the purse and up to our bathroom. Lazy ass. My fine lines are not happy with me right now. This purse is despicable. And you can't even see the phone that is buried under the rubble.

My Mom and Dad always taught me to finish what I start. And now I am trying to teach the Wee Ladies the same thing. But what kind of role model am I?

Case in point. These are the stairs leading from our kitchen to the basement. If there are things that need to be put away downstairs in the storage room, for some reason I can only find time to open the door and put them on the top steps. I rarely manage to take the items downstairs and into their proper storage spot. Hubby HATES this half-assed habit of mine. He opens the door and shouts for all to hear, "Oh, look! Mommy is trying to kill me again!" He is adamant that I put things on the stairs purposely for him to trip over so he will fall down to his death and I can collect the insurance money. I look at him in exasperation and then ask, "How much is the policy anyway?" And then I take the stuff all the way down and pile it in the storage room. Without putting it away completely. Why is it so hard for me to finish what I start?

The house is neat and tidy and I hate clutter. So everything is usually in its place, with a door closed in front of it (except the crap on the stairs). I can usually get things into the rightful spot, but it is not always neat and tidy once it is there. Our house appears neat and tidy from the outside, but open a cupboard or drawer and be prepared to shield thyself.

This is my t-shirt section of our closet. I get the clothes out of the dryer and neatly fold them. I then stock pile them in the closet. Then when I go to get out a shirt to wear in the morning, sometimes I have to search through for the one I want. Which results in a messy pile. Do I do anything to fix it? Nope. It just gets worse. And worse. Until finally I have to take precious time out of the day to remove the shirts, refold, and re-stack. The room looks really nice when the closet door is closed. Notice the three folded shirts at the bottom of the pile. I guess I never wear those ones.


Why do I keep messing up the depths of our interior? Why can't I just keep storage spaces neat? And it is always our stuff. Anything to do with the Wee Ladies is the opposite. Their rooms and toy area are perfectly organized and tidy. The closets and drawers are impeccable. But when it comes to our stuff and other areas in the house, it is a different can of worms all together. Is it me or is it a Mom thing? Don't be afraid to tell me that I need to get my act together. I can accept that. Because I agree.

I guess you don't want to see my storage container storage area.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS. Scroll down to the bottom of the page and check out the new logo. Thoughts?

Oh, and sorry for not writing last night. Hubby and I spent time together.

Have a fun weekend!

I am using this post to enter a contest.
http://jewllori.blogspot.com/2008/07/whats-in-your-bag-summer-contest-fun.html

Labels: Chores, DDM, Fun

We are a bit mixed up today. Skating lessons are over for EvieG which means all 3 Wee Ladies are home for the day. The Destroyer had bags under her eyes and was annoyingly fussy so she went down for a nap at 10:30. Which means she will be up for the afternoon and in bed early tonight. Spark Plug will have a nap this afternoon and will probably be up late as she usually gets her second wind around 7:30 pm. EvieG will be with me all day and will do anything she can to 'stay up late' tonight.

I will not have time to blog this afternoon but will tonight. This afternoon we have to do some baking and maybe some painting. I will have to meet the demands of the Wee Ladies today until bed time.

I will leave you with a confession. Being an off day I was downstairs with The Destroyer first. The other two slept in a bit. Hubby left for work and Spark Plug came down for breakfast. EvieG dressed herself. By the time breakfast was over and cleaned up I realized that Spark Plug still had not been changed from her PJ's and last night's diaper. As I watched her run through the kitchen with a bum hanging down to her knees, I realized that I was slacking this morning and that I had better get upstairs to get her changed and dressed. I eventually got it done. Oh well. It happens. We get to it when we can. This is the reality of having little ones constantly around us. Sometimes our two arms can only manage one armful at a time.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM

I had a psychic reading done last night using a deck of cards from Casino Sault Ste. Marie by a lady named Ginger Ella. A dear friend of mine and I sat in on each other's readings and we were remarkably enlightened.

We had to wait for the lady in front of us to finish her 'full reading' which consisted of palm reading, cards, clairvoyance, and the formidable crystal ball. This lady didn't need a reading, but instead a therapist as the desperation was resonating off of her. We had been waiting a while and then when the therapy-seeking-lady left we patiently waited for our names to be called. We were beckoned to the sacred space of the I-Will-Tell-You-All-About-You-Lady and then told to, "Hang on for a few minutes," as Ginger Ella needed to go and have a smoke break. Good to know that our payment is being put towards worthwhile causes. She reentered the room in a way that was not even remotely psychic like. She did not exude any spiritual energy and was without peaceful and calming vibes. I thought for sure we would have a true fortune-teller at the local annual Psychic Fair.

We sat down and I went first. Here are some things I learned about myself:

1. I have 2 men in my life- there's only one that I am aware of. Maybe the other is JT because I have dreamt about him recently. Oh, and I didn't wear my wedding ring. Somehow during my reading my husband and the 3 Wee Ladies were mistakenly left out. I'm sure it was an oversight on her part.

2. I will have to watch out for chest and respiratory problems in my life- I really don't think this prediction had anything to do with my chest cold, which she told me to get looked at by a doctor.

3. I am a water-baby; I need to be near water- apparently she didn't take a close enough look at my fair and freckly complexion which has SPF 75 written all over it. But hey, now I know.

4. I have zero tolerance for stupid people. Bang on.

5. I have had 13 previous lives and lived during the times of the knights and Robin Hood. I was predominantly male in my former lives. There is the connection between my manliness and my impatience for bulls*#t. Maybe I shouldn't have crossed my arms during the reading.

6. 2009 is going to be a year of financial success- great news! Show me the money! Oh, and if I had lived during another time, like medieval times, and had lots of money, I would have been a philanthropist. I told her that I probably was Robin Hood in a past life. He was a philanthropist. She said it was quite possible. At least I have accomplished something good in my lifetime.

7. I also learned that I was going to travel and make a big move, maybe even to a different country. I said, "Even if I can just take a few days and G.A.W.K. to an all inclusive resort, that would be fine. I am a water-baby and all."

8. I need to be in a position of authority. Yeah, that's what I tell Hubby all the time. Again, maybe I should of kept my hands in my lap and not forcefully crossed.

9. I will do something creative in my later years, like paint, or write music, or work with my hands. But not write. Well, she really narrowed that down then, didn't she?

10. I am going to go back to school. What? Why would I do that?

I feel like a weight has been lifted. I feel so much more at ease with my life and the direction it is going in. I can now put all of my focus into choosing my roads according to what Ginger Ella has told me and then as I sit on the white sand by my ocean front house 25 years from now, I can look back and say, "Wow! That psychic Ginger Ella who told my life's path using the Casino Sault Ste. Marie cards really knew what she was talking about! A true psychic! Amazing!"

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, Fun

Over the long weekend we had a visit from Stinky Uncle Jeff. My single, athletic, witty, too-intelligent-for-his-own-good, only-reads-non-fiction, fart-in-a-mitt, older brother. I love this guy to pieces. He is the only person in this entire world who can a) push my buttons to the point of tantrums of epic proportions, and b) make me laugh like no one else can (except maybe Nenny with Twins). Our childhood was super fun and I could manipulate any skirmish in my favour. He got in trouble soooo many times because of my dramatic reactions of pain and emotional scarring. I often wondered when we were growing up what our relationship would be like in adulthood because of our frequent childhood conflicts. I am happy to say that we are closer than I ever imagined we would be and he is the best uncle any kid could ever hope for.

He is moving with his job (he works for the railroad) and I won't even start into how bummed out I am about that. I am happy he is moving up the career ladder, but am sad that he is moving 2700 km away. He came for one last visit (at least for the next several months) and the kids had a party with him.

We have a routine prior to Stinky Uncle Jeff's arrival. We have to make his favourite fibrous oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and muffins that are loaded with extra flax seed. We have to stock up on Tropicana OJ and Lactose Free milk because his system can't tolerate regular milk....hence our name for him. When I told EvieG that Stinky Uncle Jeff was coming for the weekend, she jumped up and down clapping and squealing, "Yay!!" And then she stopped mid-jump and looked very seriously at me and asked, "Is he going to ask me to pull his finger again?" I guffawed. I nodded and told her probably, and reminded her to plug her nose.

Stinky Uncle Jeff is the Uncle who:

- takes the Wee Ladies on Space Pod rides to the planet Zumba in their styrofoam Max and Ruby chair (this is a wild trip complete with sci-fi sound effects as he runs around the house with them in the chair)
- brings the most annoying, noisiest toys he can find (electric guitar that spews out rock music at the slightest brush of a finger and doesn't turn off- true story)
- brings water rockets and other cool outside water toys
- takes them to the train station to watch the trains come in
- teaches them how to play Dodgeball- this is where he gives EvieG a head start and she runs across the backyard while trying to dodge the gigantic purple yoga ball that he kicks at her trying to knock her down like a human bowling pin
- teaches them vocabulary they shouldn't be exposed to at such a young, vulnerable, sponge-like age

EvieG announced to the lot of us that she needed to go to the bathroom. Stinky Uncle Jeff proceeded to egg her on by introducing new ways to describe her situation. She learned that she was:
- dropping the kids off at the pool
- pinching a loaf
- dropping a load
And my personal favourite:
- taking a dump

You can just imagine how I reacted as I punched him in the bicep each time he came up with a new phrase to teach her while laughing in my face at the same time. As she hollers these new words from the bathroom, he then tells her she can only say these things when he is around. Great. Thanks. Like that is ever going to happen. Still trying to push my buttons and we are in our 30's. I guess I can officially say my daughter is learning a potty mouth, all thanks to my brother.

After the Wee Ladies go to bed, Stinky Uncle Jeff steals Hubby and they go on dates. It is so sweet. They go to the movies and out for drinks. He makes Hubby act as his 'Wing Man' as he checks out the ladies in the fine establishments of our town. They get along well I am glad for that because I have suffered his critiques in the past when he did not approve of the guy I was dating. Some of them I still hear about.

The Wee Ladies love Stinky Uncle Jeff. He spends time with them, reads to them, and plays with them. I know he will be an important person in their lives as they grow. If he ever has kids, he knows it will be payback time. Drum sets, pots and pans just for the kids, and other musical instruments will show up every year at Christmas.

The kids will miss jumping on him and waking him up at 7:30 am, but look forward to his next visit. I will make sure that we continue to say, "Hi, Uncle Jeff!" each time we are stopped at a train.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Family

These are my most favourite jeans in the world. I have had them for 5 years. I can't bear to part with them, but as you can see, it is time. Or is it? I am posting a few pictures today of the pants I wear faithfully. I call them 'My Old Faithfuls.' I love them. They fit great, they are soft and comfy, and pretty fashionable (if you are not looking at the holes in the knees). These features in pants are extremely important and now that I have the Wee Ladies running around, I don't have time to go jeans shopping because as we all know, it takes FOREVER to find a pair that fits perfectly.

We certainly have a special relationship with our jeans and/or other pair of favourite pants. We wear them everywhere. You would think that it would be fairly easy to find a pair that fits you like a glove, but that isn't the way it works. Finding pants is hard work. I read that 450 million pairs of jeans are sold in the US every year. That means that it can't be too overly difficult to find a pair that suits you, right? Wrong. We all know that it takes an enormous amount of a) time, b) patience, and c) determination (which directly links to time again) to find a pair that hugs our contours. Most of us know from experience that it takes about 4, 5, or even 6 pairs until we find the right ones. I read that in fact it takes NINE tries until the average woman finds the winner. After trying on 9 pairs of jeans I can tell you that I would be more than ready to go and sit down and relax over either a) a big pint of beer, b) an oversized bowl of ice cream, or c) all of the above, in which case I would grow out of my new jeans, which would result in me having to go through the whole process again. This is why I don't go jeans shopping.

See the picture to the left. This is a pair of very expensive jeans that I got as a gift a couple of years ago between babies. They fit okay, but are a little loose in the waist which I am definitely not complaining about. I need a belt with them, no big deal. There is a hole at the bottom of the leg as you can see.

The third pair are my Mavi cargos that I have had for about a decade. I love these pants. They are pre-baby pants and therefore were the pants that I used as my weight loss guide. Once I fit back into them, I knew I reached my goal. And I celebrated every time with a treat. Like a Blizzard from Dairy Queen. Why not?

Yesterday, I was putting the Wee Ladies in the van and felt a pull in the knee area. I looked down and saw the first tear. CRAP! Not these ones too! Now because I have worn them 2 days in a row and have put the Wee Ladies in and out of the van a few times, the hole is that much bigger. Double CRAP. I am very upset by this. These are cotton pants. Can they be fixed?

Maybe I should take the Wee Ladies on a trip to Fabricland. Now isn't that a kid's paradise? You can get lost in the racks of fabrics for hours! Fabricland is a built in babysitter. The ladies (they are always ladies) who work there love watching kids run around because they are soooo cute. I bet I could find some really cool fabric with wild patterns, like skulls and bones, and get all of my pants patched up. If I am going to wander around in patched jeans like I did circa 1991, then I better look the part, don't you think? I could bring Grunge back again. I could get out my old crusty Birkenstocks and wool socks, along with my flannel shirt that I know is in a Rubbermaid container in the basement and put the whole ensemble together again!

I definitely can't patch them myself. I can barely sew on a button. Hubby did give me a pair of his trousers to fix. The trousers and button sat in the bottom of the closet for about 2 years. True story. Finally, he got so annoyed that he threatened to take them to the seamstress. I immediately became defensive and said, "I didn't get the sewing badge in Brownies for nuthin'! I will do it." And I did. It took about 5 minutes. It wasn't exactly centered, but it did the trick. Actually, it didn't. I think the button has since come off again. I think Hubby took the trousers to the seamstress all stealth like, so I wouldn't know.

So I am at a loss now. What should I do with my pants? Is it time I get decent pants to wear? Is it time I put my own childhood behind and move on to pants that make me look my age? Do I toss them or patch them? What do you think?

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Happy MAY 2-4! See? There I go again talking like I'm all 20 or something.

Oh. And I have thrown in a picture of the shirt I am wearing today. Notice the HUGE coffee stains right in the front. And yes. I did go out into public looking like that.

Labels: DDM, Fun

EvieG wants to be a big girl. She wants to do everything for herself. The last two mornings she has made her bed, dressed herself, brushed her hair and teeth, and made herself breakfast without making the kitchen an official disaster zone. I think it is great and I tell her how proud I am of her. We can see her confidence levels rising everyday.

I did draw the line when she reached the bottom of the stairs and I heard the unlocking of the front door. I shouted, "No EvieG! Close the door please!" In return she hollered, "But I just want to get the mail from the mailbox!" I yelled from my warm, cozy bed, "The mail doesn't come until after lunch!" "Oh. Ok! But I just want to check!" To which I repeated more sternly, "Leave the door closed, please." "Why?" she asked, clearly not wanting to listen to me. "Because I'm the Mother and I said so!" And then I rolled over and put the covers over my head for five more minutes.

My heart was ripped out of my chest yesterday as I was dropping EvieG off at school. I experienced something that I thought wouldn't happen for at least another 5 years. As I got EvieG and her backpack out of the van, she said, "You can just drop me off here, Mom. I can go by myself to the gate. I'm a big girl!" In slow motion this was the part where she heads up the sidewalk with her back to me. I am chasing her and shouting "No!" while wildly shaking my head and waving my arms as spit is thrown from my mouth and tears are pouring down my cheeks. Pure and utter despair and devastation. My little girl doesn't want me to walk her to the gate. She doesn't need my help with these kinds of things anymore. She doesn't depend on me getting her safely to the playground anymore. She is a big girl, independent, responsible. I have been sucker punched and am sitting on the sidewalk in shock with stars circling my head.

I calmly replied, "Honey, I know you are a big girl and I know you can go to the gate by yourself. But Mommy just wants to come with you to say good-bye at the gate. Okay?" Fearing what the response was going to be, all she said was, "Ok, Mom." And that was it. I thought, Phew! No fuss, thank goodness. I am not ready to lock horns about this yet. I still want to take her to school. She is only in JK. Maybe next year I will let her go on her own from the van to the school yard. But not just yet.

I can't believe she is growing so quickly. This is only the start of things to come. For a Milli-second I was afraid she was going to come out with, "Mom. I don't want my friends to see you bringing me to school. Let me go by myself." Thank goodness she still wants me by her side and not off in the distance. How does a Mom ever prepare herself for that day, when they want to be dropped off around the corner or 2 blocks away because they don't want to be seen pulling up in the van to the party?

I love that EvieG is becoming responsible and confident. I will always encourage that. Even though she is going to put my heart through the wringer, I will always keep thinking how it will benefit her as she grows. It is hard, but I will nurture that as much as I can. Except for unlocking the front door at 7:15 in the morning. That I will still control. For now.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle

I got a cobe (said all nasal like). I am achy, my nose is stuffed up, my sinuses are screaming, and my head is pounding. While Advil Cold and Sinus can take the edge off for 4-6 hours, it doesn't completely eradicate the intruder that is wreaking havoc on my poor body. How about a nice warm bubble bath, followed by a cup of Earl Grey tea and toast, a nice book, The Ellen Degeneres Show, a blanket, and a couch to snuggle up on? Oh, and someone could make and bring me a hot bowl of homemade soup to really make me feel better. Give-my-head-a-shake. Where's my Mom? Who Mommys the sick Mommy? NO ONE.

All I want is my Mom. I want my Mom to take care of me. But wait. I am the Mom now, which means there is no one to take care of me when I am sick anymore. This is plain old no fair. Before the Wee Ladies came along I could just call in sick and easily chill out for a day or maybe even two. But now there is noooo way that would or could EVER happen. Here's why:

- dishes
- laundry
- food preparation
- children's demands
- non-stop voices around me
- non-stop action around me
- can't lay on the fort that is my couch
- sheets are in the wash because child spilled muffin crumbs all over
- playing chauffeur
- errands to run
- vacuuming due to dirty boots that ran across my floor
- wiping up paint from the table, chairs, and floor even though there was newspaper to catch the mess
- and on and on and on

The worst is when the illness isn't a cold, but a gastrointestinal flu bug that kicks and beats your insides until you let it all out. Not only do you have to try and find a way to manage and move on, but you have to double the chore list because you have to disinfect your entire house so you are not dealing with multiple disasters. If you are sick, there is NO way you can afford the rest of them to be letting it all go too. So there is no healing time allowed, no rest time, no stopping. It is full speed ahead and you have to somehow reach down into the depths of your soul and find that little bit of strength that will keep you going.

There are no more 21 paid sick days for me anymore (that's what I got as a teacher). Now there's the sight of the bed and couch from afar. That's it. I wish there was someone I could call to come over and Mommy me. Maybe I should call my own Mom. What would she say if I asked her to Mommy me while I was sick? Here's how it would go:

"Hi Mom."

"Hi! How are you?"

"I'm sick, Mom. What are you doing?"

"I have a list a mile long. I have an appointment this morning and then I have to run some errands this afternoon."

"Oh. Cause I was wondering if you could drop everything and come over to Mommy me today."

"Well, let's see. I guess I can reschedule the appointment and get groceries later. Sure. I'll be over in a few minutes. I'll make you some toast and soup and tuck you in into bed. Then I'll take care of the laundry and kids for you. No problem."

That's what Moms do, right? Wouldn't that be amazing? I don't know what my Mom would actually say, and I would never ask. Because as a Mom, I feel as though I have to do it all myself. My Mom did.

Maybe I should just make the call. Maybe I should just ask for the help. I am not Superwoman and sometimes we all need a break. Especially when we are sick. If I just ask, I might find that I am pleasantly surprised.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Chores, DDM

Spark Plug has been having night terrors. She ended up in our bed last night and so I am overtired today. She kept kicking me in the back and it didn't matter how many times I tried to readjust her, I kept getting the crap kicked out of me. So I am not going to write too much today.

I will leave you with this blast from the past. It is a clip from Romper Room. Forward it to about the 6:15 minute mark and watch until about 7:15 or so.

This show left me scarred. For life. All I ever wanted was for the lady to call out my name from the magic mirror. And-she-never-did. Ever. She called out my brother's name. Both of them. But not mine. And I diligently watched this show. Every day I would come back with the hope that it would be my special day. And much to my dismay, I was forgotten.

They should have just gone through the 10,000 Baby Names Book alphabetically and it would have helped the self-esteem of thousands of children across North America. I am sure they probably still get hate letters from the children of yesterday who took it harder than I ever did. I got over it. Barely.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Fun

I have to be careful that my ego doesn't get out of control because right now the Wee Ladies think I am the smartest thing in the world. To EvieG I am a fountain of knowledge. There is nothing I can't answer. Even if the answer is, "Because I said so," or "I'm the Mother!" I can think quickly. I have something to say about everything. The best part is that EvieG believes everything I say. I am the Mother of All Wisdom.

I knew that some time in life the 5 W's and the 1 H would come in handy. As we gallop through the day, EvieG asks an uncountable number of questions that start with What, When, Why, Where, Who and How. And I have a comeback for every single one of them. I didn't realize that I knew so much about, well, everything! I am shocked that I don't have a PhD in something by now, or at least of couple of Master's Degrees. What have I been doing with all my time? And there is so much knowledge swimming around up in my noggin! I am sure a panel of scholars would love to hear my take on why the Earf is sick, or what happens to our bodies when we become sick with the common cold and flu. Heck, we might as well just get together so that they can learn how to make the creamiest batch of Kraft Dinner. A little dollop of cream cheese and you are good to go.

I never would have considered myself a Know-It-All. Opinionated, maybe. But always willing to listen to other people's views. Now I think I can say that I officially know everything about everything. At least as it pertains to an almost five year old. It is not only subject knowledge and facts, but I am a close second to Ann Landers when it comes to proper behaviour, etiquette, and manners.

And what else is good about being the Mother of All Wisdom? They never disagree. There is no argument. What I say goes. I am always right. Now if only Hubby would admit that, we'd be all set. Why use Wikipedia when Mom is right there? Their own personal walking encyclopedia. Not an ounce of doubt in the eyes of an almost 5 year old when it comes to learning from their Wise (And I won't say OLD-why do those 2 words usually have to fit beside each other?) Mother. Such a feeling. The power we have over our children as we teach them and guide them through life. Such a MASSIVE responsibility.

This role is so huge, I have to continually remind myself that what I say and how I approach things has and will have an impact on how they view things in the world. As I kid about being so wise, I do hope that my so-called wisdom will have a positive influence on the Wee Ladies. And if I can answer their questions with somewhat decent intelligent responses which leads them to question further, I will consider my role as a guidance teacher a success. I want to question them back and let them discover and explore to find out things for themselves because if I just give them the black and white, this and no other way of thinking, then I have not done my job properly as the Mother of All Wisdom.

As I tackle their questions and curiosities as best I can now, I look forward to the time when they come and say that they don't agree with me. I look forward to when they come up with another thought or idea about a particular subject and can back it up. I will want to know their opinions and I will want them to be confident and strong enough to state their opinions. I say this now and it is very possible I change my mind later when I have 3 Ladies who find it fun to gang up on their Mother in order to win the debate.

For now I will stick to being the Mother of All Wisdom. A self-proclaimed guru to my children in a sense. Right now I kind of enjoy my role of worldly guide. I am not only providing them with basic life skills and knowledge about the world around us, but want to make sure they continue to explore so they can become wise in their own right. Now isn't that wise of me? Moms know everything.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM

I conducted a poll and asked for the readers to vote on how much they think we should pay babysitters.

Out of 27 votes, 31% feel that a babysitter should be paid $5.00/hour for one child, $7.50/hour for two children, and $10.00/hour for three children.

I want to thank everyone for participating and hope that this helps with gauging how much we are paying and what we should be paying. I know it has given me food for thought. Hubby's going to say "See? Told you so!"

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Poll

Watch this. It kind of goes along with how I feel these days.

Discuss.....if you want to.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: FYI

Here is the song EvieG came home with and sang to me to the tune of, The Farmer in the Dell. I think the teacher is trying to tell me something.

Mom's Mixed Up (Note: This is a memo from the department of the obvious)

It's raining outside, it's raining outside
My Mom said, "Put on your oots."
So I put on my BOOTS.

It's snowing outside, it's snowing outside.
My Mom said, "Put on your ittens."
So I put on my MITTENS.

It's windy outside, it's windy outside.
My Mom said, "Put on your acket.
So I put on my JACKET.

It's sunny outside, it's sunny outside.
My Mom said, "Take off your arf."
So I took off my SCARF.

Although I appreciate the gesture, does the school have to drive it home that I am constantly scattered and mixed up? That I live from moment to moment, often wandering around and wondering where I left my coffee and the keys to the van?

Do I need to be reminded that I have lists laying in every room around the house? And that the kids ask me who I am talking to as I walk around babbling to myself repeatedly? I say, "Note to self! Write that down!" So I will remember things.

I mix up the Wee Ladies' names. I put The Destroyer in Spark Plug's chair at the table and Spark Plug in the highchair.

Is this just a not-so-discreet way of telling me I drink too much? Why don't they just come out and say, "Stop slurring your words Mom!"

The song should be called, Mom Drinks in all Kinds of Weather.

Happy Mudder's Day.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS I really did like the song. It was pretty darn cute. Especially when she was pretending to read off the song sheet and then had to ask me what it said.

Labels: DDM

Already EvieG has wished me a Happy Mudder's Day many times. She has picked the garden of all colour again this year to bring me flowers and easily spent an hour the other night working on a craft for me. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

The Wee Ladies are always making me feel appreciated in their own way. When I was A.W.K the other night, I had Spark Plug and The Destroyer in the tub. They each took turns sitting down and then shooting out of the water to plant a big wet kiss on my face. Spark Plug gives a puckered kiss and The Destroyer opens her mouth wide and smears me with her tongue. We were all giggling the whole time.

We cuddle everyday and we take turns giving each other back scratches, hairies, leggies, handies, and tummy scratches. I constantly devour them with kisses and hugs and I can't get enough of the constant affection they show. Even though Spark Plug might be somewhat stand-offish at times, she always comes in for the cuddle.

I love that all I have to do is stick out my hand and they automatically put their hand in mine without hesitation. I sit on the floor and all three come running into me at the same time to bulldoze me down. I sometimes wish they would stay like this forever. As EvieG and I cuddle I ask, "Will you stay like this and stay with me forever?" to which she replies, "Ok, Mom, I can for a little while, but I have to grow!" I think to myself, "I know you have to grow. I just hope you will always want to come home and cuddle." I try not to ever wish my time away with the Wee Ladies. I know they are only small for a short time. I am forever amazed at how quickly they grow and how the time flies by.

I know those moms who are reading already know that being a Mom is the best thing in the world. I know you have your own special times and things you do with your own kids. Mother's Day is a day when Moms should be recognized and appreciated. In this fast paced world it is so easy to get caught up in the daily routine that Moms sometimes don't get that extra, "Thanks! You're the greatest!" I hope you do.

For those who have experienced a few Mother's Days, for those who are experiencing their first, and for those who are approaching it, you all deserve to be celebrated. I hope you all have a very special Mother's Day.

I am leaving you with a poem, not to be too cheesy or anything:

WHAT IS A MOTHER?

---

A Mother can be almost any size or age. She has soft hands and smells good.

A mother likes new dresses, music, a clean house and her children's kisses.

A mother does not like having her children sick, temper tantrums, loud noise, or bad report cards.

She can bake good cakes and pies, but likes to see her children eat vegetables.

A mother is underpaid, has long hours and gets very little rest.

She worries too much about her children.

And no matter how old they are, she still likes to think of her children as babies.

A mother is the guardian angel of the family, the queen, the tender heart of love.

She is the best friend anyone ever has. A Mother is "LOVE."

~~ Author Unknown ~~

Happy Mudder's Day!

All's I'm sayin's all.

See you next week! Thanks for reading.

And an extra Happy Mudder's Day to my Mom, Hubby's Mom, Nana and Grandma Boyne. You continue to positively influence our lives. The Wee Ladies are lucky to have you. We all are.

Labels: DDM

I am in the thick of being A.W.K. The complete opposite of the G.A.W.K.. I am ALONE. WITH. KIDS. Hubby is gone for the night. It's just the Wee Ladies and me. There is only one word that sums up this experience for me. Efficiency. There is something about being alone with the kids that is different from the everyday routine. It's like I kick into Auto-Pilot. I keep it all going with the ultimate goal of landing safely at the scheduled destination which is having the kids in bed right on time.

I find it fascinating that the dynamics change slightly when Hubby is not here. No offence to him, but when it is just me, Mommy Drill Sergeant makes a special appearance. We go the whole time transitioning from one thing to the other. And Mommy Drill Sergeant can branch off to complete tasks while the Wee Ladies are otherwise occupied. Tossing in a load of laundry, organizing bed time snacks, putting away clothes, tidying, and getting things ready for the following day. I sometimes don't do all of this when Hubby is around. I think it's because we rely on each other to get these things done and then it never does. It's like the old, "I thought you did it" followed by the, "But I thought you were going to do it!"

The evening portion of our Hubbyless day quickens slightly. All to make the bed time curfew. After I get warmed up physically by getting dinner made, served and cleaned up completely (dishes away and counters cleaned), I can then copy, collate, staple and deliver all at once, just like a state of the art Xerox machine. The Wee Ladies are bathed and dressed systematically. We pile into bed and watch In the Night Garden (see previous post) and have a snack.

It is funny because when Hubby is home there is no second wind before bed, but instead a tornado manages to find its way through the house and the Wee Ladies go berserk. With Mommy Drill Sergeant, orders are followed in a way that doesn't take them too far off course. They don't even try to come out of their room eighty million times like they do when Hubby is home.

When Hubby is gone I slack in the dinner department. We usually have Kraft Dinner and a veggie. It is an efficient dinner to make. Preparation is quick and clean up is minimal. It is a special treat for the Wee Ladies too. And me. It's all about efficiency.

I look forward to having the whole bed to myself, but I can never sleep when Hubby is away. What is with that anyway? I slept for years in my own bed and never had a problem. Now all of a sudden he goes and I am paranoid about B&Es. I check the doors multiple times to make sure they are locked. I close all the blinds but leave the outside lights on. If someone wants to wander around the house, one of the neighbours or the police car driving by will see them for sure.

I sleep lightly as I listen for the Wee Ladies to make noise. And I have to stay semi-awake just in case there's a fire. We established a fire plan yesterday with EvieG because they had a fire drill at school the other day. She told us what to do in the event of a fire. Feel the door first followed by Stop! Drop! and Roll! She taught Spark Plug how to do it properly.

It seems too that illness manages to find its way into the house when Hubby or I try and go away alone. Hubby was away for a whole week in February and all 3 Wee Ladies got Pink Eye. That week was a barrel of laughs. I spent the entire week washing every piece of linen and clothing that even remotely came close to touching the Wee Ladies multiple times everyday in hot water. I lived in my PJ's and didn't leave the house. Except for when I needed more Lysol. Then I hauled the crusty eyed Wee Ladies to the store. It was like I had just re-entered civilization after being stranded on an island for a few years. There were people older than the age of 5! There was an abundance of food and drink, unlike our house where we were almost to the point of rationing. Being stuck alone with a bunch of sick kids is no picnic and it certainly tests your strength and sanity. After that week, Hubby got home and all he saw was my backside as I ran out the door to go and try and seek some retail therapy. I deserved at least a new something for enduring that week.

While I like the time to myself in the evening when Hubby is away, I can't wait for him to get back. We all miss him. And it's kind of like he never even goes away because we keep calling him to say things like, "Hi Daddy! We miss you!" and "So where are you now?" and "What time will you be back?" and "So what stories do you have for me?" He responds with, "According to the GPS, I'll see you in approximately 48 minutes, so you won't have to call again." Oh how he tells us so nicely.

The A.W.K. is sometimes trying on my nerves, and I don't feel the same kind of anxiety as I do with the G.A.W.K. At least I am here with the Wee Ladies and not trying to sleep in some hotel as I worry about how everything is at home. Hubby is always very glad to get home and we are always relieved when he arrives home. Safely. Because I worry about him on the road by himself. A lot. So much that I think sometimes I need therapy. I guess this means I have to put a call into my head doctor Nenny With Twins. Dialing....

All's I'm sayin's all.


PS I am posting Thursday's post Wednesday night. 1. I felt the urge to write about this tonight as I am A.W.K. and 2. Tomorrow is jammed packed with stuff.

Labels: DDM

The TV watching in our house is usually child centered. Hubby and I rarely watch TV anymore and when we do it is after the Wee Ladies go to bed. It is usually CBC, CNN, or The Discovery Channel. I used to have a slew of shows I would watch, but now it is hard to commit to certain shows each week.

I do however watch a lot of children's TV. A lot. I now look for things in these shows to keep me occupied. Like continuity and editing problems. I also pay attention to the writing and over analyze the relationships between the characters. And then I think about the poor production assistants who get stuck doing all the crappy jobs, like set up the puppets and the surrounding set and who have to pay attention to puppet detail.

My favourite shows to watch are Bob the Builder and In the Night Garden. Bob the Builder looks like it is painful to shoot. It is slow moving and if I worked on that set, I think I would die of boredom. I like the writing though. I have discussed the relationship between Bob and Wendy with other Moms and we all seem to agree that Wendy has a crush on Bob, but he is too oblivious to even notice. She goes out of her way to spend time with him, even if it's not work related. She invites him to dances, to her house when she is hosting relatives, and to other social events. He is always very cordial and tells her she looks nice, only to leave her wanting more of his attention. If you have seen it, think about it the next time you watch it. If you haven't seen it yet, you will know what I am talking about when you do watch it.

In the Night Garden is a British show. It is from the same creator of the Teletubbies and Booh Bahs (spelling?). It is just as strange too, but strangely addictive. Spark Plug, EvieG and I all crawl into bed and watch it every weekday night. Hubby does everything he can to stay away during this time. He says when he watches it, his brain melts. I have even caught him crawling along the floor like he's crawling through and air duct to escape so the Wee Ladies wouldn't see him. Every night EvieG says, "Daddy, The Night Garden is on!" And every night he acknowledges her, but somehow manages to miss it. He's like the Polk-a-roo when it comes to this show. And every night EvieG says, "Daddy, you missed The Night Garden. Again!" He replies with, "Oh, did I? I am sorry. Maybe I will watch it tomorrow," and then he looks at me with this sly smirk on his face, mouthing, "Not a chance!" to me.

This show is narrated and is set in a forest. The characters are alien-like and they don't talk. They make weird squeaky noises and repeat their own names over and over. Each character does the same dance when it is introduced in the episode and nothing ever happens in this show. The characters wander around aimlessly chasing balls, collecting rocks, and cleaning things. They take rides in the Ninky Nonk, a crazy fast train, or the Pinky Ponk, a slow moving blimp-like ship which makes noises like it is passing wind. True story. The characters are clearly unemployed and don't do anything productive for society. They are just there, accomplishing rather little. And the kids LOVE this show. Maybe it is the routine of it. The mundane routine. All I try and do is figure out if the forest is real, or if the poor production assistant has to make the trees look like they are moving by cutting out lighting gel to make it look like a dappling effect. I don't know how they would shoot the show on such nice bright and sunny days considering England has a lot of dull, drab days. It must have taken them forever. It is a brilliant piece of editing and repetition and it keeps us wanting to come back for more. You should check it out on Treehouse TV.

I commend the crews of these shows for taking the time to make our children decent TV. I am very happy we have the commercial free TVO and Treehouse to watch. They put a lot of hard work and hours into these shows and I am grateful because I don't let them watch anything else.
I know it won't be like this forever and that eventually the Wee Ladies will grow out of Dora and Diego. I know I will have to deal with the true nature of television as far as the Wee Ladies are concerned. If they like to watch the kids shows, then I will happily watch it right along with them. And it is a perfect way to get in some quality cuddle time with them. I'll take the crazy characters in The Night Garden any day.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS I apologize if I am rambling today.....it's one of those days where I am rambling from one thing to the next.

Labels: Responsibility

The Wee Ladies love their soothers. Or their Soo Soo as Spark Plug calls it. She made that up because I always called it Soover. The Destroyer has one too. They are addicted to them, especially when they are going to bed. EvieG had one too, but she ditched hers when she was only 4 months old and then went on to thumb sucking. She sticks her thumb through the tag of one of her stuffed animals at bedtime. Am I worried about this vice of theirs? No, not for a second. But I think there are other people who care about it more than we do.

The Wee Ladies go out with their Soo Soos. In the car, to the gym, to the In Laws, and everywhere in between. They also have them around the house and out in the backyard. It's like Easter morning around here sometimes. I find them in every nook and cranny. And sometimes I know it has been there for a while. Just like Easter eggs that no one has found until 3 months later. Someone finds the stale chocolate and announces, "Hey! Look what I found!" And then they unwrap it and stick it into their mouths. It's the same with the soothers and sometimes the kids find the missing ones themselves. They look at it for a second and then stick it into their mouths. Couch lint and all.

When the soother falls out of their mouth and onto the floor of the store, I put it in my pocket and pull out the back up. I always keep back up, just in case. Because it could save me from potential tantrum pandemonium. I have them in my pockets, my gym bag, and their backpacks. Easy access. If I am ever in need, there is a soother at every turn, no matter where I am.

When the soother falls on the floor in the house or in the backyard, I simply give it back to them. Often without even rinsing it off. I used to rinse them under hot water. Then I figured, why bother? It's just our house. It's our own germs anyway. Then we go out to a friend's house and the soother falls onto the floor. Our friends ask us if we want to rinse the soother off. I look at them and for a split second I think, "Would they think I am a bad mother if I just say no and give it back to the kid, or should I rinse it off so I look like I care about the health of my child?" I usually choose the former. Kids need to be exposed to germs and dirt. Otherwise they will probably end up catching some kind of superbug because we are keeping them too clean and over prescribing anti-biotics. So what's a dirty soother? Maybe if I lick it off, that will be clean enough, right?

It seems that when we visit anyone from older generations, they have to indirectly state their opinion. In a back door sort of way. The kids are playing nicely, soothers firmly in place, and the child tries to tell us something. The response from the older generation is almost always, "What are you saying? I can't understand you with that thing in your mouth!" And then they pull that thing out. To me this is a way to tell the parents of our generation that they should not let their kids wander around with soothers hanging out of their mouths. That it looks tacky. That there is no reason for them. That we aren't doing our children any favours when it comes to language development.

Sure it is a habit. But it's not hurting anyone. I used to be anti-soother, before our first child was even born. And then she was born. And it took me about 2 days to come around. For the other 2 Wee Ladies I had the complete arsenal in my baby bag. They had the soothers in their mouths when they were only minutes old. It made them feel better after making that traumatic trip into civilization. None of this use-your-finger bit to soothe them. Forget that. If I did that I would never be able to move anywhere, alone.

I have thought about taking the soother from Spark Plug. She loves it. And she doesn't really need it. She goes to pre-school without it just fine and it is always the first thing she asks for when I pick her up. She has her KiKi too. Her blanket. The Destroyer is not as addicted to the soother, but needs it to go to sleep. She wanders around with it sometimes, but not always. Not like Spark Plug. What would happen if I took the soother away from Spark Plug? That's easy. She would go and steal The Destroyer's. When I do cut them off, I will cut them both off at the same time. And deal with double the withdrawal. That is the only way I will be able to do it.

I will be one of those Moms who has a 3 year old with a soother. Kind of like how Suri Cruise still has a bottle and she's 2. When I think they are ready to ditch the Soo Soo, then we will proceed accordingly. But until then, my Wee Ladies will happily carry on with their oral fixations. At least they're not smoking.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle

This is me at the end of my second pregnancy. Wow, I know. You see all 4 of us here: the baby, me, my butt, and my extra chin.

I gained a lot of weight during my pregnancies. And as you can see, I couldn't even fit into my maternity clothes anymore. The numbers were 50, 60, 40 and that was probably my measurements in inches, but really that was the amount I gained during each pregnancy. And I am even going to admit that I tipped the scales at 200 lbs during the second pregnancy. Holy crap. I was always around 130 lbs in my pre-baby days. And I am happy to report that after 3 Wee Ladies, I am back there again. But it took some work.

People get so bent out of shape, no pun intended, when it comes to gaining weight during pregnancy. I did too, for a little while, and then I realized there was no point. I decided to eat and I did not deprive my body of any cravings, but I did not totally overeat and pig out. I had my days for sure, but overall I just ate what I wanted within reason. I craved a lot of sweets, like ice cream. And I would have a couple of spoonfuls after dinner. Not always heaping bowlfuls either. It was a craving for sure because when I got home from the hospital, I didn't want any ice cream. At all. Weird, eh?

I think that your body and the baby work together. I think your body already knows how much it is going to gain. I tried keeping to a certain caloric intake, but I would get hungry! That was the bottom line! I would wake up in the middle of the night with my tummy growling. It came down to either eating a little bit to feed the baby, or poor Hubby would have to live with Queen Cranky-Pants. I think he would prefer the extra pounds to the Nastiness he would be living with, to be honest.

So after the babies were born I started exercising. I put up my Weight Loss Tracking Sheet in the bathroom and I would take my weight and measurements every Monday. I dropped the Wee Ladies in the day care at the gym and would do a class. I would also run outside. I never ran before that. I loathed it, but it is the most efficient way to lose weight, providing you have the right shoes. It also gives me time to clear my head.

I set a post-baby goal for myself. I wanted to run a half-marathon. After Spark Plug was born I started training and lost 60 lbs. And then I got pregnant again. I pulled a 'Britney' and Oops, I did it again. Spark Plug was 4 months old. We got pregnant again so quickly and it was obviously unplanned. I gained 40 lbs and then lost most of it within 6 months after having The Destroyer. I ran the half-marathon when she was 5 months.

I really felt that eating when I was hungry saved me from living in Moodyville. So I ended up heavier than I thought I would ever be, but a lot of it was water retention too. I remember gaining 14 lbs in 3 weeks. I wasn't eating that much. I peed for a week straight after the Wee Ladies were born and lost like 2o lbs right off the get go.

It is so easy to feel guilty about the increase on the scale because we are constantly bombarded with people telling us to stay in a range. The doctors say to only gain between 25 and 35 lbs. If it's a few pounds over that, who really cares? There's a baby growing. I think that it is important to not pig out on junk all the time, but if you are hungry, then eat. Just have that muffin already! It all comes off. If you want it to anyway.

Now all I have to deal with is my stretched out pelvis and SI joint. So I have to visit the chiropractor every couple of months because things get out of place more easily. It's okay. I don't mind. I have 3 Wee Ladies to show for all that weight gain and the changes I am forever dealing with afterwards. It was worth every pound.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM

Check out this classic Sesame Street segment from 1972.

A little girl probably about the age of 6 or 7 gets sent out to get some grocery items for her Mom. ALONE. All she is worried about is remembering the list. Not that there could be some psycho on her heels. She walks to the store and buys the stuff her Mom asked for. She makes it home. Alive. And she is very proud of herself. Her Mom is proud of her too.

The key here is that she went without adult supervision! This little girl didn't even look around her to see who might be following her. Oh, to be back in those days again. I remember being let loose with my brothers and friends to roam around the neighbourhood from dusk until dawn, stopping whenever I needed to eat or go to the washroom. Sometimes we would wander through other yards. I even remember having a tea party with the neighbour 2 doors down from my friends house! There was no way my Mom knew we were having a cuppa with a stranger! The neighbourhood was ours to explore freely. As long as we were home by the time the street lights came on, we were okay.

We would run in and out of our own home throughout the day, but the thing to take note of here is that we had an enormous amount of freedom as kids. We knew about strangers and knew that if we were ever confronted by anyone we didn't know, we had to run as fast as we could to find help. This never happened. Unlike today, there was never the constant fear then that we could be snatched and taken away.

I don't see or hear about young kids (6-7 years old) playing anywhere other than their own yards alone. Adults are usually somewhere in the background keeping an eye on them. I don't even really see a lot of young kids walking to school alone anymore. They are driven everywhere. Sometimes even around the corner to a friend's house. It makes me sad in a way because those days were so much fun and so care free. We are so bombarded with horrific stories from the media and it instills great fear into people.

Are there more crazy people out there today or is it just that we are so connected to the media that we hear more? Would we feel comfortable letting our kids loose in the neighbourhood without an adult? Could we tell them to go and have fun and to be home for lunch? What would they be doing? Where would they be going? Do we not know our neighbours well enough anymore?

People are busy and people are so involved in their own lives. Sometimes I think that there is a real sense of community missing now. Because in our childhood neighbourhood, I knew who lived around us and I could address them by name. They all kept watch over us kids. I was 6.

Don't get me wrong. I feel an overwhelming need to protect our kids. I have my eye on them every 2 seconds even in our own backyard. I just hope that as they get older I will be able to relax and feel as though I can let them go to the park up the street with their friends for a while. I hope that I will feel comfortable to send them to school 200 meters down the sidewalk by themselves. I am not so sure though.

Am I being too overprotective? Am I not giving the kids the benefit of the doubt? Will I not let them show me that they can be responsible? I will have to give them more credit.

Time will tell.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: FYI

I just want to thank everyone for reading and for helping me get started on this. I really appreciate the support and I appreciate your passing this blog onto others who would be interested in reading.

The goal is to involve businesses in a way that they can provide the readers with special offers. I am hoping that these offers will help families out and help Moms get out of the house and be able to do some things for themselves.

This will take time. I am in the process of having a logo designed for Dress Down Moms and I will be having a site built so to accommodate participating businesses. As I said, this won't happen overnight and I will therefore still require your support with your continued reading. The hits on the site will give businesses the incentive to work with me.

If you have any suggestions or questions, fire them off to me! I would be glad to respond.

Thanks again and have a great weekend!

Pass it on!! Yes, in a chain letter sort of way.

You can contact me at dressdownmoms@gmail.com

Labels: Announcements

What does it take to lead a Combined Joint Task Force? A Drill Sergeant. Someone who can keep everyone in line. Someone who has an extraordinary sense of organization. Someone who can fire orders and demand a quick response. Someone who can repeat themselves and increase their decibel level each time. Someone who can multi-task with their eyes shut. That is me most of the time. Mommy Drill Sergeant.

It takes a Mommy Drill Sergeant to keep a house in order and children in line. I line them all up in the morning side by side and demand they stand at attention. With their backs straight and chins up, they stand while looking straight ahead and wait for the orders. I shout, "EvieG, get dressed. Spark Plug, brush your hair. Destroyer...stand still." They reply in unison, "Yes, Mom!" And off they go while I move through the house in a whirlwind like the Tasmanian Devil getting everything up to snuff.

In reality, I find that I bark orders all day long. And I think I repeat those orders over and over again. It gets to the point where I feel like I should put the lot of them through Boot Camp. "EvieG, I said get your coat on 5 times now! Drop and give me 5! Not only because I have asked five times, but because you are almost 5!" I get so irritated when I find myself repeating orders. I can't even begin to count the number of times I order, "Let's go!" and "Come on!" in a day.

EvieG dawdles. I always tell her to stop dilly-dallying and just do what I ask. It doesn't seem to always work. She takes forever it seems to get things done that I ask her to do. Simple things like getting dressed or getting her shoes on. Not only that, but every day we go through the old, "Stay in your seat when you eat!" I say this probably a half a dozen times during each meal and snack. The only time she really listens and responds is when Mommy Drill Sergeant comes out in full fury. Not only does she have to deal with the wrath of the Officer on Duty, but she suffers with the loss of a privilege. Like the computer. I never take away books, because I don't believe that is positive. But I will take away TV (Oh, no!) or movie time. She is crushed when this happens and it doesn't happen often, usually because she listens after I threaten the loss of the privilege. That is how it works. I threaten and she listens. Or I count to 5 before the threat ever presents itself.

Threats work well. I always used to say before EvieG was born that I would never threaten because I felt it wasn't productive. I thought that it was empty language which would just upset her with no positive outcome. Because you have to follow through. If there is no follow through with a threat, well then it is all just null and void.

I succumbed to laying down the threats. We threaten. We threaten to take things away, threaten to not go certain places like the park. We do follow through most of the time, but sometimes we forget. So it ends up never happening. I know for a fact that I have threatened to take computer away for the entire duration of the following day. EvieG gets upset and I repeat to her why it is happening. The next day comes along and after she has been playing on the computer for 15 minutes, I suddenly realize, "Hey! She wasn't supposed to be on there!" Whether or not she remembered is undetermined. I suspect she did remember and got away with it. Those darn kids!

The threats that occur now are the early stages of what grounding will be. When they are older, the threats will still be there but the privileges will change. We won't let them hang out with their friends, go to a party, or other social event. And definitely no slumber parties with their friends. I bet they will bounce back into line faster than they do now! They won't have done their chores and I will say, "So I understand there is a birthday party you want to go to on the weekend," and all I will see is dust as they fly up the stairs or out the door to do what they need to do. Mommy Drill Sergeant still in power.

When the orders aren't being obeyed, threats work. And if I have to repeat myself too many times I get severely ornery. They don't like it when I am ornery. I don't like it when I get ornery. So most often times they listen after a couple of repeats. Because it is at that point that my eyes get big, my voice loud, and the hair raises on my back. They duck away from me and run as fast as their little feet will take them to the front door to put their coats and shoes on. So I usually don't have to threaten. But there are lots of times when I do, and I am not ashamed for doing it.

Because if it gets the job done and they know who's BOSS and who's running the show, then it is a threat well served. Mommy Drill Sergeant, Master of Threats.

All's I'm sayin's all.

That's it for this week. Thanks for reading! I will be posting again on Monday for the week. Please come back to read more tales from the zoo.

Labels: DDM

Sometimes I think I am quicker than I was in high school. With age, comes speed and agility- reflexes that would impress any professional athlete. When it comes to rescuing your children from near catastrophic accidents, we the parents are there to save the day. Most of the time.

When we become parents, we automatically get a visit from Saint Reflex, and this is not a member of Duran Duran. We get emblazoned with the Spry Tattoo. We instantly become more nimble as we enter parenthood. We can move at speeds we never imagined we could. We can prevent and deal with almost all tragic accidents. Just with one swift and smooth movement. If we can endure labour and delivery, professional athletes should be lining up to pass us their speed and agility.

It is like a sixth sense. Or seventh, if you include the radar monitoring system that I referred to in the post Three Eyed Long Neck Minus the Purse. We are sometimes able to detect possible horrific accidents before they happen and when they do happen, we can soften the blow.

We are our own Combined Joint Task Force. Not like the army, the navy, and the government, among other sub-elements, but instead we are firefighters, paramedics, police officers and the SWAT Team all rolled up into one. We receive the 911 sometimes before it is even dialed. Other times we get the call and respond immediately. Our reaction time nonetheless is always astonishing.

The Destroyer likes to remain standing for everything. She stands all day. The only time she sits or lays down is when she is in her crib. She stands in her highchair to eat, stands in the bathtub, and stands on the stairs. She gives me about a hundred heart attacks a day, but because I am a paramedic, I can overcome these. We have a gripper in the tub, but it only covers the middle area. So she stands at the back of the tub. And then she puts one leg over the side and tries to climb out. I keep sitting her back down, but being a Taurus and all, she tries again. Until finally, she falls out. And from across the room, I see this coming and I leap through the air like a soccer goalie about to make the save of his/her career and catch her in my arms just millimeters from the floor.

Hubby has just as impressive dexterity. In fact, I could argue that he has better reflexes that I have. In record time he can sprint across the backyard to save Spark Plug as she falls backwards off of the slide. Like running the bases, he sprints and slides into home within a fraction of a second of being declared out. And he catches a falling baby in the process. I also remember the time when EvieG was about 18 months and she was standing in the cart at Canadian Tire. I know what you may be thinking....."Why would they let a toddler stand in a cart?" Well, I don't know, but we did. The seventh sense kicked in and just as she leaned forward out of the front of the cart, Hubby grabbed her ankles and pulled her back to safety. But it was close. Very close. I, the firefighter had the trampoline out and on the floor at the front of the cart. I also had the gurney off to the side, just in case. After all, I am a paramedic too. I can take care of the injured. I am really good at putting Band Aids on and cuddling.

Our response is usually quite rapid. But we don't always get to every accident before it happens. We have had our share of bumps, scrapes and bruises. The Destroyer has taken it off of the head many times and Spark Plug has taken a few for the team. As a police officer I can enforce the rules and expectations like, no jumping on the furniture. Or no hitting and kicking, and definitely no pushing anyone off of or down anything. I can also be a paramedic by helping the injured. And as a firefighter I have and will continue to put out lots of fires as the Wee Ladies get each other fired up. The SWAT team has not been involved in any capacity just yet, but I am sure it is just a matter of time. Especially when boys become involved in any way with the Wee Ladies. I am sure Hubby will hire the Special Task Force to help with that.

The Wee Ladies keep us hopping, that is for sure. I like that we can remain spry. It keeps us active and I think keeps us young. As the Wee Ladies get older, I can only imagine how the Combined Joint Task Force will change. The paramedics will not apply any more Band Aids, but will instead supply garbage cans beside the bed. In actuality, the firefighters might have to put out some real fires along the way. And the police officers will be confiscating objects that have no business being in their possession. And the SWAT Team will, well, I don't want to go there.

I can only imagine the things our Combined Joint Task Force will have to endure as the Wee Ladies get older. I am scared....but in the meantime, we will enjoy them just as they are right now. As the three Wee Ladies who need their Combined Joint Task Force to keep them safe from the tumbles and tragedies of childhood.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, Hubby