The Olympics have begun and for us Canadians it is especially exciting to host the events on home soil. The Opening Ceremonies kicked things off last night and it was a proud time for many. Things did begin on a somber note with the death of Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili. His accident is such a tragedy and our hats go off to him, his family, and teammates.

Labels: Responsibility

I am rebooting my system. Officially. I went to see a Holistic nutritionist last night and she is now the person who will provide me with a plan that consists of foods I can tolerate. Because after I left there, the only thing I can pretty much eat is dairy and barley. I am going to cleanse my system.

Labels: DDM, Mission, Responsibility

When it comes to the safety and well being of our children, we parents are usually willing to pay a premium for quality products, especially ones that are natural and toxin-free. I become frustrated when I learn that products that I perceive to be good quality are not what they seem to be. I get mad at myself for relying on assumption.

I do not buy everything North American. That seems pretty much impossible nowadays. You can buy great quality products from around the world. When it comes to the premium, 'natural' products that I wish to have for the Wee Ladies, I like to align myself with companies that are proud and passionate and honest about how and where their products are produced. I also like to support companies who are marketing themselves as the trusty, valued 'mom and pop shops' who are manufacturing at home, employing locals, and using North American quality materials. I love supporting anything Made in Canada or the US.

Labels: Reflection, Responsibility

Back in October, I wrote about the fat traps that were killing me. I thought the chocolate mint Girl Guide cookies were bad. I have found out otherwise. It is not the Fall cookies that are harmful to my well being, but instead the Spring lot. The vanilla and chocolate cream filled fat traps. I have 2 cases sitting in our house. 2 Cases minus 2 boxes, thanks to yours truly and we have only had them for a day.

Never mind Philly cream cheeses, these things are a little piece of heaven. And they are addictive. Last time we only had one case of the mint cookies to sell. This time I thought, Well, hey, these ones are waaayy more popular than the mint cookies, so I need to have 2 cases for EvieG to sell. Secretly, you know I was thinking that I needed to have more boxes hanging around to get into myself. Blah. Shame on me.

Here's the breakdown per 2 cookies:

-140 calories
-6g of fat
-0g cholesterol (thank the heavens above)
-21g of carbs, 10g of which is sugar and 0g of fibre
- 1g protein
-4% iron for my anemic friends

Today I have already received 12% of my daily iron intake. After tonight's meat lasagna, I will feel like I accomplished something today.

Here's the thing with these fat traps- you get 20 cookies per box. 10 vanilla and 10 chocolate. The box is evenly split. If you have one chocolate cookie and no vanilla, it completely throws the dynamics of the cookie ratio out of whack. You must eat the vanilla cookie with the chocolate one to keep the box balanced. Even. By not maintaining equal representation of vanilla to chocolate, you do not sit well until all is 50/50. And so you eat. And eat. Before you know it, you have hit half of your daily caloric intake and it doesn't even technically count as a real meal. But I make it into one. Today I had a good lunch of 6 Girl Guide cookies.

I did this to myself. Call it self-loathing, I don't know. I KNEW I would get into them even though I tried to hide the cases in the laundry room. And the other thing about this? The other thing is that we don't know as many people here as we did in our other town. There, it was easier to sell the ONE case of mint cookies off. Now I have 2 cases (to be clear, that's 24 boxes of cookies) sitting in the small space. The laundry room is just an extension of the kitchen. I might as well have them beside my bed.

Crap.

I had every intention of having EvieG sell some yesterday to my family who came to visit. But then we forgot and after I closed the door I realized that I still had unsold cookies sitting there.

At $4 a box, I am in debt $8 already. I say that by the end of it all, I will probably be financially responsible for one case at $48.

Fifty bucks on fat traps when I could have bought something worthwhile.

Hey, at least I am supporting the "programming and activities for girls across Canada." As I sit and get fat off their cookies, I can contribute to the well rounded healthy experience and opportunity a girl can get with the Girl Guides of Canada.

Is that irony?

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, EvieG, Responsibility

I can't behave improperly at all anymore when the Wee Ladies are in my presence. I am constantly on. I have to be aware of my habits because I have 6 eyes on me watching my every move. It's like my own version of the paparazzi, only their cameras are their sponge-like-minds. Every time I step out of line, it is made public.

Here are some things that I used to do, but can't do anymore in front of the Wee Ladies because a) I will be called on it, and b) I don't want to completely misdirect and corrupt the wee minds of my girls:

- drink from the juice container
- get away with NOT wearing my seat belt from the mailbox to the house, or in a parking lot as we cruise around
- wipe my nose on my shirt
- eat directly from the pot of spaghetti
- leave the tap running while brushing my teeth
- steal cookies after telling everyone no more snacks until after dinner
- say anything at all inappropriate- for the record, I never curse or swear in front of them. The worst I have said is crap and shoot and it has been repeated.
- forget to always cover my mouth when I sneezed or coughed
- watch The Young and the Restless
- take a handful of chocolate chips or marshmallows right from the package (and I wonder why they go into the cupboard to help themselves)

Here are some of the things I hear when caught in-the-wrong:

"Moooom! Put your seat belt on! We need to be safe!" (Thanks, Dora)
"Moooom! Get a plate! Don't eat from the pot! That's rude!"
"Moooom! Cover your mouth when you sneeze! We don't need to get your germs!"
"Moooom! You said no more cookies till dessert! Why do you get another one?"
"Hey! Marshmallows are for hot chocolate and Krispie squares! Can I have some?"
"Why is that guy on top of that lady, Mom?"
"Do you need a Kleenex for the gold in your nose?"
"You shouldn't drink out of the container. You'll spread germs and you are supposed to put it in a glass, mom."
"(Gasp) You just said a bad word!"
"You always turn the water off when brushing your teeth. We need to keep the Earth clean."

Of course, it is EvieG firing these statements at me. I should call her Little Miss Responsible. Spark Plug stands behind her sister and says, "Ya!", and The Destroyer just goes into the cupboard or fridge and helps herself.

Am I this anal? Because these kids are just repeating what I have said. It is all learned. I should call myself Large Bottomed Mrs. Etiquette by day and Large Bottomed Mrs. Relapse by night. Because you know that once they are out of my sight or in bed, all of these habits resurface in full as I sit on the couch watching crappy TV with a tub of ice cream and a fork, a jug of Tropicana on the side table, a bag of chocolate chips, and use my shirt as a Kleenex.

Oh, and there should be a big, flashing neon sign above my head that reads, Off Duty.

And while I am off duty I would kindly ask that all cameras and camcorders are turned off too. We don't need any evidence of my bad habits exposed to the Wee Ladies.

They have already witnessed enough.

And I will try to do my best to keep it in check. But there are no guarantees.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, Responsibility

We used to have a CD player in the van that held and shuffled 4 CDs. Now we only have one working CD compartment. The other 3 have been jammed with coffee change, thanks to The Destroyer. I always said that I would only play age-appropriate music for the Wee Ladies. I find that I am slowly moving away from this and have gradually been introducing them to radio and music genres of all kinds.

Labels: DDM, EvieG, Responsibility, Spark Plug, The Destroyer

When I prepare the Wee Ladies for the bitter cold weather, I dress them appropriately. Or so I think. I've realized that I've got nothing on the layering abilities of older generations.

Have you ever noticed that when you leave your children in the capable hands of a grandparent, older aunt, uncle, or even great-grandparent, they have this inherent need to make the kids look like tightly wrapped sushi rolls? Like sausages wrapped in phyllo?

When our kids get winter-dressed by someone of an older generation, they have the following layers applied for their trip outside:

- undershirt
- long sleeve shirt
- sweater or sweatshirt
- winter jacket
- leggings
- pants
- snow pants
- 2 pairs of socks over the leggings
- scarf wrapped around 100 times so they can barely see
- hat
- ear muffs
- 2 pairs of mittens
- snow boots
- blanket wrapped around their laps if they have been put in the car

The kids can hardly walk. This is why most times they are carried from Point A to Point B. They waddle and bump into walls because they are so heavily layered, they lose their bearings and balance as they fight to maintain their center of gravity.

All of a sudden you hear the old, "Is she feeling well? Is she teething? Oh! She is cold! Look at her cheeks and nose! They are bright red! I hope she's warm enough!"

I stand there thinking, she's not cold, she has all her teeth, but she might be running a temperature. I bet she is feeling nauseous because she is overheating. Can 2 year olds get BO? Man, they have her wrapped up tighter than Fort Knox. This kid could for sure live outside in the frosty winter climate with all the crap she is wearing. She is a kid version of a layered clubhouse sandwich!

Then the crying and complaining starts. Whining in a muffled, damp, scarf voice, they say, "Mom, I'm hot! My seat belt is too tight."

I say, "Look kids! The moon is out!"

"But mom! I can't look up!"

Man. Oh. Man.

I feel like someone is going to call in and accuse me of neglect. In a hurry, I have been known to take the Wee Ladies out without a hat or mittens. Kind of by mistake. Sometimes I have evaluated the temperature and made an executive decision to take them in the car minus the snow pants. Depending on where we are going, I have even put them in their padded Crocs instead of boots. They're insulated. We're not going outside! We just have to go and get some groceries.

I don't have the patience to go overboard in the layering. I think they will survive without that extra t-shirt. I dress them how I dress when I go out in the winter. I am not walking around all Lady GaGa in nothing but some hosiery and a dress made from PVC. I think I dress for the outdoors properly.

Plus, when the Wee Ladies are out and about, they end up trying to remove most of what has been put on. Mittens always come off. I am always finding gloves and mittens in the yard, or tossed down beside the seats in the van. We have an entire winter outer wear clearance section in the van. The Destroyer takes off her boots and socks most days while we are cruising around.

I know what my elders would say right now. They would look at me over their bi-focals and state the naked truth that if I had put stockings on her in the first place and she tried to remove her socks, well then, she wouldn't be sitting in her bare feet when it's -15 degrees Celsius.

What I can do, they can do better, right?

Whatever. She'll learn won't she? She'll eventually learn that it is not a good idea to take off her socks in the winter.

That's right. Tough love.

Will I change my dressing habits? No. Will I feel guilty when I am out-dressed by the resourceful previous generations? Nah. I'll let them dress the Wee Ladies if they feel so inclined to dress them as a child should be dressed for the harsh temperatures of the wintry outdoors.

And just for the record- I would NEVER buy earmuffs.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS February's Who's DDM? is up. Go and have a peek.

PPS I am trying to sort out having some ads placed on the site through BlogHer. One ad is a survey, but just to clarify, it is NOT for my site. It is for the BlogHer site.

Labels: DDM, Fun, Responsibility

I learned this weekend that my temperament is exactly the same as when I was 13. We took the Wee Ladies to meet my grade 7 teacher, whom I have kept in touch with over the years. Taking the Wee Ladies anywhere all together can be tricky, but taking them to meet someone important makes me a little nervous.

My grade 7 teacher, Mr. McG, made a big impact on me. He and I had a fantastic rapport, he was supportive, encouraging, and pushed me to do my best. He figured me out right from go and knew how to work with me. Working with 13 year olds is challenging. We did lots of neat stuff in his class and worked through some really fun science projects.

I have not stayed in touch with that many teachers over the years, but Mr. McG is someone who I have enormous respect for and who, even to this day, can keep me grounded. He is a true teacher and now I can say, a great friend.

I wanted the Wee Ladies to make a good first impression because I care about what Mr. McG thinks. Even though he is easy-going and made us feel comfortable right from go, I didn't want the Wee Ladies running through their house smashing things to bits. I kept an eye on them and my ears open to their whereabouts. I tried to keep them under my thumb.

Mr. McG sensed my nervousness and just as he did in grade 7, he said, "Relax. Settle down. They are fine. You are fine. It is all fine. Remember what I used to tell you? You have to relax- we don't want you to get an ulcer." We burst into a fit of laughter.

He told me way back when I was 13 to relax. And here we are 20 years later and he is still telling me the same thing!

I felt myself getting worked up, just as I used to do when I had deadlines approaching. When I want things to run smoothly, and I feel that there is a potential for disaster, I get a bit wound up. But leave it to Mr. McG to calm me down, just as he did at school.

I don't completely freak-out when I get wound up. I just sort of get tense. My shoulders and back tighten, I move quickly. I talk and ask questions. I give the Wee Ladies orders. I just have to remember to breathe and think that everything will be fine. Sometimes things are going to be out of my control.

And they were on Saturday. We took the Wee Ladies into a house sales office to check out the new development going in nearby. While we were talking to the staff, The Destroyer found the big candle surrounded by glass that was perched on a pedestal. She knocked it over and it smashed all over the floor. I was mortified.

I got a little wound up and sent them out to the van with Hubby. I apologized profusely. They said that kids will be kids and that it was alright; that they should have taken items like that away knowing kids would be around. I thought differently. I took a bottle of wine to them later as an apology gift. I wanted them to know that I was sorry my kid made a mess of the office and that I respected their place of business enough to tell them so.

And so I will probably continue to get fired up at times, just as I always have, and the Wee Ladies will continue to be kids. I know I cannot control everything they do and that accidents will happen.

I am going to keep telling myself this. I am going to remember to breathe and try to let it go. Because it will all be fine. We will have little hiccups along the way and that is the way it is. I have to tell myself that these glitches are not worth getting worked up over.

Kids will be kids. And I will not let that be the source of my ulcer.

Thanks to Mr. McG and his lovely wife for inviting us over. We can't wait to pick apples. At least that will be outside and they can't do that much damage.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, DDM, Responsibility

It doesn't matter how many play phones we have around here, the Wee Ladies always want the real thing. I've tried the play cell phones, portable phones, and even the old school Fisher-Price phone with the googly eyes. They still want the real phone. And at the press of the bleeping button, I am forever getting a call from base. This bleeping is one way the Wee Ladies demand my attention. It is also the way I find a missing phone.
A call from base is another way of telling me to get my fat ass going. There are a few different circumstances in which the Wee Ladies press the button at the portable phone base.

1. The morning alarm: We have the base in our room. And so once the Wee Ladies have finally become fed up with my insisting just 5 more minutes of cozy sleep time, they press the button. This always guarantees my departure from bed to turn it off.

2. Get off the phone: I have talked on the phone for long periods of time. During this time, I can still conduct my mom duties relatively smoothly. It just means I am not devoting my every fibre to the Wee Ladies. I am clearly distracted. So as a way to tell me that they need some attention, the Wee Ladies give me a call from base. This way, I hang up and carry on with them and they are no longer annoyed by my half-assed mommying.

3. Stop surfing for celebrity gossip: Sometimes, I will spend some time looking up the latest headlines. Not world news, but instead, celebrity news- the real news. If the Wee Ladies grow tired that I am not giving them my 110%, I will receive a special call from base.

A call from base also means other things too. It means that a portable phone may be missing in action. I might see that one of the other phones has Line in use across the screen, which means the search for the missing phone is on. There have been times when the Wee Ladies have called people we know. And I never find out about it until I am told by the person on the other end of the line. The Wee Ladies forget to hang up and then they hide the phone. I have made a call from base in search of a missing phone off the hook. It sometimes miraculously appears, or I find it down in the depths of the couch along with old, hard banana peels and coffee change.

Call from base is a signal. A signal that I need to refocus. I need to pay attention to my actions and the actions of the Wee Ladies. I have to make sure they aren't getting into too much trouble and I also have to ensure that I am not wasting too much time doing things I should be doing at another time. Like looking at house porn.

I don't want the Wee Ladies to be like me and do something silly, like try and call the White House in an attempt to talk to the president.

I did that. For real. And I made it to one of Reagan's aides.

Or call the 1-967... story time number where you can listen to the Velveteen Rabbit for only $1.00 a minute.

Or something even worse....

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Happy birthday, Uncle Jeff! We love you!

Labels: DDM, Responsibility

Living in this new place is going to test my ability to be 'green'. As I mentioned, we have down-sized slightly in square-footage. We have to re-examine our use of space and resources. We are also limited in our weekly amount of waste disposal. There needs to be a slight family restructuring in our reducing, reusing and recycling.

The community we have moved to is idle and pesticide free. They also recycle everything and limit households to two bags of garbage a week. You have to pay per bag if you have more. Now this may be a standard for many places, but from where we came from you could have 5 bags a week. I didn't always max out, in fact most weeks, I was pretty good. We recycled there too, and I was pretty conscious of doing what I could, but now this will call into question whether or not I can be even more diligent and thorough in terms of efficient garbage disposal.

With kids, it is easy to produce excess waste. And when you move and purge like we did, well then, it is very easy to generate a lot of garbage.

Now that we are settling in to our new digs and community, we have to shift our ways to become more aware of what we throw away, where, and be conscious all the time of how much we are getting rid of. I don't want to have to pay every week for extra bags. And I don't want to drive 20 minutes to the next town to the dump that accepts household garbage. And so I will have our blue boxes ready to be filled to maximum capacity.

We have a small apartment size stackable washer and dryer. This is a big switch from our jumbo Maytag Neptune set; the one with the washer that grew mould in the rubber sealer around the door. The loads have to be smaller now. I have to be more efficient. I will try to wash only what I have to. We need to make a family pact to reuse towels a couple more times than we have. We have to stop tossing every piece of worn clothing in the hamper. We need to get more mileage out of what we wear because I can rack up the miles by carrying a laundry basket up and down stairs 80 million times a day. No thanks. And I will obviously wash the clothes that are stinky. I almost promise not to let the Wee Ladies go out looking like grubs.

In our old house, we had the laundry area beside our bedroom. It was so easy to toss a load in on the way by and then dump it onto our bed to fold. I hardly had to go anywhere. Now that it is downstairs, we need to be more aware of what is dirty and whether or not it is absolutely necessary to wash.

We (I) have some work to do. I am not totally gluttonous when it comes to waste, but I know that there is definitely room to improve.

The kids will get on board. And Hubby will too. It is the towels he needs to reuse for longer.

There is going to be a learning curve as we immerse ourselves in our new community.

And I am so ready for the challenge.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS January's Who's DDM? is up and running. Check it out!

Labels: Responsibility

I find it hard not to get carried away with holiday baking. Since my teenage years, I have been in charge of providing the family with a plethora of holiday goodies. Squares and cookies ranging in flavours have found homes in the many Tupperware containers and tummies in our family.

For the past few years I have hosted a cookie exchange party. A few moms would come over with a few dozen of one treat and then we would exchange them and end up with a wide variety of holiday goodies. We only had to make one thing and end up with several different sweet treats. I didn't do it this year because of our move and because we wouldn't be able to get through it all. So I am back to selecting a few different recipes for this year.

A good girlfriend of mine lent me her Mrs. Fields Cookbook from 1992. It has one hundred cookie recipes in it. I have had it in safe-keeping in our cupboard since last Christmas when we made Christmas sugar cookies and gingerbread cookies. She needs it again for this year's batch and has asked for it back. Sure, no problem. I have decided I need to get myself a copy of this book because there are some recipes in there that we must have for the holiday baking.

I decided to go through my recipe file and select this year's festive goodie line-up. I sat with EvieG and we went through one at a time. She got bored after about the third recipe and left me to finish this task alone. No hard feelings. It took me about a half hour to decide what to make. There are so many good recipes to pick from!

I chose a selected assortment. Ten bucks says I will continue to find any excuse to use the old classic Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chip recipe that Nenny With Twins e-mailed me.

I have decided on the following goodies for this year's festivities:

1. Cookie Cutter Sugar Cookies
2. Gingerbread Cookies
3. Classic Shortbread
4. Cranberry-White Chocolate Shortbread
5. Chocolate Cookies (using cake mix)
6. Peanut Butter Balls (with Rice Krispies)
7. Peanut Butter Cup Tarts (you stick a PB cup in the Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chip cookie dough and bake it)
8. Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies for Uncle Jeff

And here is what I am debating with myself- do I make Confetti Squares? The peanut butter squares with the multi-coloured marshmallows? You know the ones that were served at every bake sale, church bazaar, and holiday party or dinner?

I should have just hosted the cookie exchange party. As I look at my list, I am realizing that I may have too much stuff. It would have been easier to make one thing and then exchange with everyone else. Maybe I just need to do a short-list and ax a few of these things, like one of the shortbread recipes.

And one of the peanut butter recipes.

The kids don't even eat peanut butter.

I think that they have to experience the Confetti Squares at least once. That taste never dies.

I just hope they don't have some sort of reaction. Maybe I should do a scratch test on them first. On their forearms.

I wouldn't want to them to have ill-feelings towards the Confetti Square experience.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS DDM's Try Ons is up and running! Head on over to check it out! More reviews are coming, so stay tuned...thanks to Brian for setting it all up!

Labels: DDM, Family, Fun, Nenny with Twins, Responsibility

I have noticed something about traveling in a car with the Wee Ladies. It's like they get into their seats and expect full in-flight service. And they expect full, complete, attentive, service. If their demands do not meet their expectations, well, then the flight attendant gets an ear full.

Before we even get into the car, Spark Plug and The Destroyer argue over which seat they want- aisle or window? They try and wait to board at the last minute and the flight staff ends up calling and chasing them over and over, around and around in order to get them on board before the gate closes.

They finally get into their seats only to whine about the seat belt. It's too tight, or not adjusted correctly. And the whining doesn't end there.

They want in-flight movies, in-flight music and beverages. They want in-flight snacks. Every two seconds the button is pressed and the flight attendant ends up turning around and addressing needs. Oh, so many needs....

Along with the many demands comes the passenger conflict. Those passengers sitting next to one another fight over the arm rest. They get breathed on and looked at. They put up with their neighbours humming, or their outer-monologues. They are forced to participate in jovial discussion and do not always enjoy it.

And so how exactly does the in-flight staff deal with these demanding passengers? Calmly, coolly, and professionally- until the passengers really get under their skin. Then the tone changes and the staff, backed up by the captain, come over the speaker system, loud and clear. Tales have been told about in-flight staff firmly setting the boundaries. Safety comes first. There are certain rules and policies that passengers must abide by. The staff have to maintain a balanced and comfortable environment for all on board. If the equilibrium is thrown off, they must take matters into their own hands. For everyone's sake.

While the emergency exits are not always used and sometimes the staff feels like they need to take a few good deep breaths from the oxygen mask, the passengers are always put in their place. And they stay there.

It is here, in the car, that the rule, the customer is always right, does not always apply.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS DDM's Try Ons should be up and running later today! Come and check it out!

Labels: Battle, Responsibility

Competitive travel sports for small children leaves me wondering about lots of things. It is something we will choose to avoid at all costs for our kids. These activities require so much time, energy, and money. And the part that gets me is the pressure that the kids are sometimes put under to win, to be the best, to be a champ.

A champion. Really? In what way, I ask?

Travel teams are at another level compared to their house league counterparts. There are practices-all the time. And games-all the time. And matching uniforms. If there are monogrammed water bottles, well then, you are in the big leagues for sure.

There are expectations and pressure to win. The parents are right in there. There is even yelling, and lots of it. Yelling at the kids from the coach and from the parents who don't always act like adults. I have even seen the cops intervene to break up fighting parents. There are gestures thrown, swearing, spit. You can see the steam coming out of their noses. The referee gets a lot of the curses thrown in their direction. This is the same kind of fight you would see out in the parking lot after last call. But then after, everyone makes up over a sausage, or hot dog.

Time is taken off of school to travel out of town for games or competitions. Time is taken from work to drive to these places. The money that is spent is too much for me. Gas, food, lodging, equipment, Tim Horton's, booze for the hotel room...often more than one weekend a month.

I have a good friend whose 8 year old son plays travel hockey. And the coach is a real prize, from what I understand. He yells at the kids and belittles them, and has even lost his s#*t on them. He centers them out and then benches them. And sometimes over things that couldn't be helped. Like a missed pass that was air bound. He, and I quote, is "a very competitive and intense person and I expect 100 % effort from myself for everything I do. Well some of the competitive and intense nature is carrying over to what I expect from the team." A spectator told him to, "lighten up and just let the team play as they are only 8 year kids and that I may be surprised at what they can actually do when I'm not screaming at them."

This guy clearly is drooling to claim an Ontario Champion trophy for 'his' team. He wants it shining brightly in the case at the arena for all to see because 'he' wants the title. Badly. He goes on to say that, "I have seen over the past 6 weeks what this team is capable of and felt that today was not that 100% effort that I expect. And I guess it showed in my actions and words. I honestly believe that this team has the potential to be a Ontario Champion if I can find a way to get them to give 100% effort each and every game."

Who found this guy?

He wants the kids to be open with him by asking questions. If there is something they are not feeling confident about or if they have any concerns, he asks that the parents encourage their kids to ask him. Ya, right. Like any kid who gets yelled at will speak up. Especially in front of the rest of the team. What a putz.

He wants them to listen too. To give their 100% all the time. To watch and learn. To not get distracted. He feels that 8 year old kids get too distracted and he feels his screaming would reduce if they just listened. All the time.

I guess he feels intimidation is the best method for coaching.

He gave his team some homework. He "challenged each player after the game to take 10 minutes too ask themselves if they thought they were a champion and if so why. If they didn't think they were why not, and let me know at practice on Tuesday."

It boggles my mind to think that this guy is even coaching. That he is asking kids these kinds of questions. And teaching them that it is all about the win and not all of the other things like teamwork, skill, positive attitudes, etc. And that he is such an issue so early in the season.

My friend is in a bind. Her son wants to play hockey. His dad wants him to play. She feels it wouldn't do any good for the kid to pull him out. He just wants to play. She is making sure that he knows that this is a game and the important thing is to do your best and have fun.

It is a hard situation, I am sure, to watch your kid be coached by such an idiot.

She is hoping that he wants to play junior sports at school next year. If that is the case, she has already told her son that it will be house league hockey only. She has her fingers crossed.

I told her I was going to come and watch one of these games. I have to see this guy in the flesh. Live. In action. And I will with a Tim Horton's in one hand and a sausage dog in the other.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, Responsibility

We lost our Betta fish, Goldie over the weekend (see post below). So I thought I would write more about our fish saga today. There is a bit of fish history with our family that I thought I would share.

Back when EvieG was 3 we went for a play date to dear friends of ours who have 2 girls. One is EvieG's age and the other is a couple of years older.

Each girl had their own Betta fish on their night table. We couldn't do that. EVER. And I will explain why.

EvieG has a fast and furious response time. She can swipe a slimy frog, moving crayfish, or scoop a swimming minnow from a bucket in mere milliseconds. She loves catching nature's creatures.

While my girlfriend and I were chatting, we heard a loud and piercing scream from upstairs. Thinking someone had seriously injured themselves or seen David Hasselhoff cross the TV screen, we bolted to see what had traumatized the child.

My friend's oldest daughter was in a full on spaz. She was freaking in epic proportions. We could not understand what she was trying to tell us. My friend calmed her down to a level where she could interpret some of her speech. Like the teacher from Charlie Brown, this kid was incomprehensible. Except for the word fish.

And then we saw it.

EvieG came out of the bedroom with clasped hands. I knew. My kid was a mortal version of an angel taking the fish to the great pond in the sky. With angelic blue eyes, she looked at us, startled. She was alarmed by the panic of the other child. She clearly had no idea what the problem was.

I raced over to EvieG. I noticed a little tail sticking out of the side of her hand. I opened them up only to see a little red Betta fish struggling to survive. Hanging on by a thread, we dumped the fish back into its mixed up and murky tank. We then noticed a trail of pebbles leading to the playroom.

The two younger girls had taken the fish out of the tank, along with the tank's stones and made an oxygen filled tank in the toy kitchen sink. EvieG was holding the fish when we found them, but who knows how long the fish had been out of its water?

When we asked EvieG why they had taken the fish out of the tank, all she said was, "We want to play wif it." Of course. Another playmate.

I was stunned by her speed and accuracy in catching the fish with her bare hands.

I was crushed that she had accidentally sent this fish to another world before its time. And I was mortified that the little girl had lost her pet fish.

EvieG felt badly too once she realized what had really happened. We went out and bought the little girl a tank accessory as an apology gift. It was a sign on a post that read No Fishing. We thought it was fitting. And EvieG would know never to go near her tank again.

Hubby and I decided to get EvieG her own Betta fish and tank. We wanted to teach her how fish live and how to properly care for it. We took her to pick everything out herself. We thought that instilling this responsibility in her would teach her that fish are for looking at, not playing with.

We got the fish set up in its new digs. We put it on EvieG's dresser in her room. We asked EvieG what she would like to name the new fish.

She declared it be called, Squash.

Somewhere in the ranting and rambling of the shocked little girl, she told EvieG not to squash her fish. Obviously this reaction affected EvieG.

Squash didn't last too long. Like we predicted, Squash was caught with swift hands and taken into bed to be read to. I found EvieG's hands full of a gasping fish and saw scales on her pillow.

We then made the bathroom the place for any wet pets.

I can think of worse ways to go.

There's nothing like a solid good night, lights out story.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, EvieG, Guilt, Responsibility

It is always hard dealing with sick kids. But when they have things going on, places to be, and people to hang out with, when is it time to put the brakes on and declare a Recuperation Day?

A friend of mine has her kids in a toddler music class. And they are now all burdened with colds. The colds came from the music class last week. There was a kid there who was hacking occasionally and breathing snot bubbles. At one point, the healthy kid picked up one of the toys or instruments laying on the floor and put it in her mouth. It was at this precise moment my friend knew it was game over.

Sure enough over the weekend, they all went down like dominoes. Now they are all infected.

The irritating thing about this is that the mom of the sick kid announced to all the other moms that the child had already been sick for several days and should 'no longer be contagious.' Yeah, right.

I hate it when moms do that. When they say that the child is past the passing point, that really means, I-really-wanted-my-kid-to-come-so-they-wouldn't-miss-out-and-I-really-needed-to-get-out-myself. At the expense of all the other moms and kids.

Take a walk. Go to the park where they can keep their distance. STAY HOME.

It's this kind of stupidity that irritates me. No one wants to get sick. And let's be clear. Kids get runny noses. No big deal and it is kind of hard to avoid that. It is the coughing and sneezing and wiping and de-gooping that is the issue.

Why can't some moms use some common sense and think about if it were themselves on the receiving end? The old, put yourself in someone else's shoes. Because you can bet your Minty Chocolate Girl Guide cookies that you would be right pissed off if someone else brought a sick kid to the play program.

To me it is easy. If you know you wouldn't appreciate a sick child infecting everyone around them at a playgroup or class, then use some common courtesy and keep your own kid away from these places until they are all better. People will appreciate your consideration.

And it's no big deal in the grand scheme of things if the kid misses a class. They aren't going to get a bad grade for being absent. People will thank you for it. You will have saved a room full of moms and kids 10 days or more of an annoying virus...depending on how many people are in the house.

I don't think it's too much to ask.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Responsibility

EvieG loves to play with jewelery. And she even has a few pieces of her own, both play and real. When she was 3 months old, she got a couple necklaces and a bracelet after she was baptized. I kept them put away, but recently she discovered them and brought them out to admire.

I let her handle the necklaces for a while. I was aware she was doing this. I kept my eye on their whereabouts. But then I forgot. Hey, I can't do everything.

I was doing my daily damage control. I was vacuuming the kitchen and living room floors. When doing damage control, I am not only vacuuming, but I am watching the Wee Ladies at the same time. I am ensuring their safety first. I constantly scan for choking hazards that are strewn across the rooms. And I pick them up. Except this once. It happened so fast.

I took the vacuum to the area mat by the back door. It is a sage and cream. Things easily camouflage in this mat. As I was giving it a quick once-over, all I saw was something shiny and gold. And I heard the clinging of something metal make its way through the long tube that ends in the garage. Crap. Could it have been?

I ran upstairs to check the chest of drawers where the baptismal jewelry was stored. Empty. I found the wee bracelet on the book shelf. No necklace.

It was a gold necklace with a tiny little cross on it. It was dainty and pretty. It was a keepsake. I can't even remember who gave it to her. Because I know for sure it wasn't us. We haven't even really been to church since the baptism 5 years ago. The other 2 Wee Ladies have not been baptized.

Knowing the cross necklace is sitting in a bin of dust, hair, and Cheerios got me thinking. I felt myself in a bit of a moral dilemma with this one. We are not very religious people, but we are not atheist either. I am a self-proclaimed agnostic, even though I grew up with some religion.

Do I take the bin apart, take the bag out, cut it open, and search through the dirt to retrieve the necklace? Or do I leave it there and pretend like it never happened? Will I be struck by lightening if I don't find it? Will I be struck by lightening because I am even debating my course of action? If I choose not to get the symbol of Christ, does that make me immoral? Or just a crazy young person rebelling against God?

So far, the necklace remains among the filth. The bag is not full yet. But when it is, I think I will take a quick peek without immersing my hands into the leftovers. If I see it when I give the bag a little shake like you do when looking for a prize in a Cracker Jacks box, then I will get it out. If it becomes too much of a dirty job, then I will move on.

I guess I can always run down to Charmed in the mall and see if I can replace it.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: DDM, EvieG, Guilt, Responsibility

Just call me old school. Or a squirrel. I have begun my winter gathering and storing and I have never done this before. We will have local produce all winter because I decided to live like my grandma did, and those generations before her.

I have made a couple of batches of apple sauce already. The Wee Ladies and I went out to the orchard to pick some apples. That was fun and it didn't take too long. They were involved in the whole process which was great. They helped wash, peel, cook, and eat.

Next on the list was to cook a batch of tomato sauce. We have a few plants in our backyard and I didn't want to waste them like I did last year. So I cooked a bunch up yesterday. And it turned out alright.

My most ambitious tasks have yet to be tackled. Like the older role models of my family, I am choosing to follow in some of their farm/family/cost efficient/healthy ways. I am going to buy produce in bulk and prepare it to store for the winter. I bought a flat of beans and am gearing myself up to trim/blanch/bag/store. I realize this is going to be some work. But if they could do it with a bunch of kids running around, then I can too.

I have a bushel of carrots on order, a 50lb bag of potatoes, and I think I will also get some beets, cauliflower, and broccoli. We will be fully prepared if there is nuclear fallout, a rock bottom economic crisis, a devastating earthquake or volcano, or Armageddon starring Ben Affleck. I am going to keep the potatoes in a dark, cool spot and keep the carrots covered in dirt.

All I need now is a floral apron to match the ones my great grandmother used to wear, a couple more stock pots and several boxes of Glad storage bags with twist ties.

This stuff I can do like the they did in the old days. I cannot however bake a loaf of bread from scratch without using a bread machine and I cannot make a decent pie from scratch. I can make strawberry jam, kind of, and muffins and cookies, no problem. I do wish sometimes that I had my great grandmother here to teach me some of these things. I think that when the people of a couple of generations ago pass away, a whole library of unwritten knowledge goes with them.

Why do I want to do all of this? I feel that we are what we eat, as cliche as that sounds. I want us to eat as pure and healthy as we can. There is too much processed crap out there that scares me and I don't want to end up in the Marble Orchard because of my Timbit addiciton. I want the Wee Ladies to grow up able to make good food choices. I know that time is a factor, but after my blog about my poor habits last week, I realized that I can organize myself properly if I really make a conscious effort. So that is my new mission. I blogged myself into a new thought process.

I like that we will be able to eat local produce all winter. I think it is good for the Wee Ladies (Hubby and I included). It will save on the grocery bill, but it will take some work.

At least if there is a major global crisis we won't get scurvy. But we might die of thirst, or hypothermia.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Can't wait till tomrorow's Girl's Night Out!

Labels: DDM, Responsibility

The Wee Ladies love playing in the tub. They have a few bath toys that they really dig. The most popular toys are the ones that squirt. They are the most disgusting as well. Have you ever forgotten to let the water out of the squirt toys?

We usually put the Wee Ladies in the tub all together. They have a bath most nights-it is part of the routine. We don't use soap on them every night. They like to play and splash about. Sometimes it gets really tight in there as they splash and try to glide around, but generally speaking they have a grand time.

One thing I have noticed is how there are some toys that have standing water in them. And although these toys are not mosquito breeding grounds, they are breeding grounds for something else. Mold.

I have not always been due diligent when it comes to cleaning out every bath toy after each bath. And sometimes the toys are left laying on the bottom of the empty tub. Most nights I clean it all up and EvieG helps. And most nights I take the gripper off and hang it over the side of the tub.

I have noticed that the squirt toys that have water left in them mold very quickly. I remember the first time I noticed this. One of the Wee Ladies was squirting water but there was dark looking gunk coming out. I looked into the water and saw all of this black stuff floating around. Slimy strings of goo. I got the girls out and washed out the tub. And then I pitched the squirt toys.

So now I replace these toys with dollar store squirt toys whenever I see that the mold is forming. I empty them out after the bath whenever I remember, but I often find myself distracted and busy with other things.

Like so many things we are cautioned about regarding the health and safety of our children, I have never heard of anyone getting sick from ingesting mold from a squirt toy. But if I can see the unknown gunk, I know I don't want to risk them drinking moldy, dirty bath water on a regular basis. I refrain from worrying or freaking about it.

Just like I refrain from worrying and spazzing out about them eating dirt from the garden. I just remove them from the dirt or vice versa.

I don't want to have to deal with pinworms or something gross like that, thanks. That would just be one more thing on an already full plate.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Have a great weekend and I will be at it again on Monday.

Labels: Chores, Responsibility

All little girls look up to their moms. They want to look like their moms and act like their moms. The pick up on every tone, gesture, and mannerism. I see this in the Wee Ladies sometimes. And there are times when I forget how much of an influence we have on their development. There are also times when I have to be careful of what and how I say it. We moms are constantly being sized up.

I am not one to get up extra early to do hair and make up. If I get my teeth brushed, well then everyone is better off. I dress in casual clothes and t-shirts most of the time. I am not a slob, but I do not feel the need to make myself look good, whatever that means. I classify myself as being pretty natural. I do occasionally get my hair coloured and trimmed. My overall appearance is not a priority. I'm just me.

The girls are also pretty casual. EvieG is going through a dress phase right now. That's fine with me. I do know for a fact that her preference for dresses does not come from me. Spark Plug also loves dresses. She also has an affection for accessories. This also does not come from me. The Destroyer is happy wearing nothing but her beaded necklaces.

So how do I influence the Wee Ladies? Spark Plug needs to have her sunglasses when we go out. She wears them in the car and then likes to put them up on her head when we are inside a store. Just like mom.

I hear the Wee Ladies talk to the dog like I do. They copy my low, gruff, listen-to-me-now voice and even pet him the same way I do.

I have reality checks. Those moments when I stop and realize that every intonation I use is heard and absorbed. Every word, phrase, and conversation is observed and recorded. I know this because there are times when they get snippy with me or with each other and they respond exactly the same way I do when my patience is running thin. EvieG will say to Spark Plug, "You are not listening to me! Now go and sit on the step!" I immediately talk to EvieG about my job as the mom and her job as the sister. It is not her job to discipline her sister. These moments always remind me that everything I do affects them.

I was not born with double D's. In fact it is fair to say that I barely made it out of the A category in the breast department. But to my 5 year old, I am Dolly Parton. One day out of the blue EvieG looked up at me with a look of sheer envy and asked, "Mom, when do I get to have big boobies just like you?" I smiled, puffed my chest out a little bit more to accentuate my small, round bosoms, and responded with, "When you are bigger bigger. You have lots of time before you have to worry about that." Like a peacock showing off its stuff, I for a split instant thought, Wow! Someone in this world thinks I have big boobs! Well, I never! Everything in the mind of child is perceived to be much larger than reality. But it was nice for that moment. I wonder if she will want to be just like me and stuff Kleenex into her training bra?

I want to be a positive role model for them. I want them to learn that they can feel good about themselves without having all the clothes, make up, and accessories. That they can be naturally beautiful. I want them to believe that being pretty doesn't mean wearing tight clothes and applying so much make up you need a putty knife to take it off. And maybe because we don't make that stuff a priority, they will grow and develop naturally too. We will see. I will let them express themselves however they need to, but within reason. It is definitely important to experiment and try on some different looks to find the one that fits. I look forward to watching them search for who they want to become.

These years are fun. We have not entered the I want this and that stage. I do not want to battle it out with them as they get older, but I know that there will be a little of that as we go. I will gladly hang on to this stage for a while longer.

Maybe they will start copying Hubby too. Oh, they already do. They blame the dog for everything. Stenches included.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Family, Responsibility

I have been a bit of a hypocrite. I always say that we moms need to be good to ourselves, or we won't be any good to anyone else. Well, this is indeed true. And I can say it all I want to my fellow mom friends. But I have not been living by this rule completely.

Now that I am a mom and we have the Wee Ladies depending on us, I am way more conscious of my own mortality. I have a fear of terminal illness and am doing everything I can to stay out of the Marble Orchard. I try to mind what I eat and drink to a certain extent. I try to feed the Wee Ladies lots of fresh food and decent meat. I try to drink good quality water and other beverages. I try to take it easy on the sugar and salt fronts. I exercise several times a week and am trying to train for a half marathon, which isn't working as well as I would like it to. So why am I a hypocrite? Because I am failing in a couple of areas and I found out it is taking a toll on my health.

As moms, we are so busy with our kids. All the time. I am so concerned with their nutrition and their well being that I often forget about my own. Time is a huge factor. Once they are have eaten breakfast, the day begins. Minding the 3 of them is busy. We are gone and out and about in the morning- the window of time is limited before snack time and naps. I am constantly thinking ahead. I think in the context of food and drink. What's the next snack; the next meal? And along this line, I often forget to properly nourish myself. How is this possible?

As moms, we naturally feed our young first. We can't fight nature. But there are so many things to do and it becomes difficult to sit down and eat too. Even when I prepare a nice dinner, and especially when I am alone with the Wee Ladies, I rarely get through my dinner without getting up for more more drinks, a cloth, or something. They never finish together. Often I find I am cleaning up, the girls have gone outside, and I still have half a plate of food sitting there.

I had a friend say that it is almost like she feels like she is not entitled to sit down with her kids. She feels that as a mother, she needs to ensure her children are properly taken care of during meal time. She makes sure the food experience is a wholesome one for the kids, but she misses out on her own nourishment. And by the time 11:00 am rolls around, she realizes she has had nothing but coffee. And that her throbbing head is because she has not eaten anything yet that day. So while on a walk with the kids, she stops and gets a breakfast sandwich from a coffee shop. She realizes this cycle is unhealthy. But how do we find the time to make sure we have a decent meal too?

I would love to make an egg-white omelet with spinach and feta cheese in the morning. I simply feel like I don't have time to pull out all the stuff to make it and then clean it all up. I can be pretty sure the Wee Ladies won't eat that. I feel a bit stuck in all of this.

I was at the doctor yesterday. I told him I have been feeling a bit light-headed and dizzy the last few days. He took my blood pressure and told me no wonder I am woozy, my blood pressure is too low. I have never had this before. He asked about my exercise regimen. He asked if I was replenishing my fluids properly. I looked at him blankly and thought, ummmmm, am I? I realized I am not. Not even close.

I realized that I have a bit of a problem. I am not eating or drinking well enough to keep going all day, everyday with the Wee Ladies. I am not drinking enough water and my sodium levels are all out of whack. I had blood work ordered and was told to go and buy a bag of chips and a Gatorade. Like when I was in school, I went to the gas station, got my bag of Dill Pickle Lays and Berry Gatorade, went to the cashier, and as the stuff was ringing through I said, "Doctor's orders!" I haven't eaten that level of sodium in ages. I did feel a bit better after that, but I still have some work to do.

It has taken this kind of wake up call to realize that I need to take the time to eat and drink. That I need to stop grazing on the kids' food and start planning my meals better. I am having trouble with how I am going to accomplish this. I have a hard enough time getting to the grocery store. I have had several glasses of water today, a couple cups of green tea with honey, and a bowl of cereal. I look at the clock and realize that it is 12:45 pm and I haven't eaten since 8:00 this morning. I want something fast and healthy. I do not want to resort to granola bars and cereal. Lunch meats are too gross and salad is not enough. Anything really decent requires cooking. And so what happens is that I make myself another cup of tea and have a banana or apple.

Time is a factor- a 5 year old, a 2 and 1 year old are keeping me hopping. I lose track of time. I am constantly going from one thing to the next, with very little down time. I want to spend time with the Wee Ladies, not sitting and eating. And I don't want to make the extra mess that comes with cooking a bunch of stuff a few times a day.

Do I need a lesson in time management and organization?

Is it just me who struggles with this issue?

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Battle, DDM, Responsibility

The Wee Ladies were at each other from the moment they woke up today. I got through breakfast amid the many squawks and screeching. The phone rang a couple of times to which I got the old, "What's going on over there?" By 8:45 am, I had them ready for the park.

On days like this, they need to get out and run. They had some play time and had successfully rid themselves of some of the excess energy. But there was no way I was anywhere close to taking them back home. I decided it was time to run some quick errands. We all piled into the van and I headed to some local stores to drop of flyers for our Girl's Night Out dinner coming up.

What do you do with all the Wee Ladies in the van? Do you take them in and out of the vehicle and stores at every stop? I don't.

Sometimes I lock up the van and quickly run in, do what I have to do for a few seconds, and run back out. And it takes just a few seconds. The van is always within my line of sight. At other places where I have to park in a parking lot and walk some distance to go in, well, obviously I take them with me. But it is a lot to pack and unpack them all when out and about. This is why I don't go out very often.

The topic of dragging your kids with you at every single pit stop is a controversial one. Some Moms feel it very unsafe to keep their kids in a car alone for a few seconds any time. Some others do what I do sometimes and run in and run out. The point here is that common sense is a necessity. Weather permitting is one factor. Time frame and location is another. I am not leaving the Wee Ladies in the van if it's sweltering hot, absurdly cold, or if I can't see them. I will leave them in the van if I have to run into the bank machine quickly and the factors are firmly in place.

I always make sure I don't leave the keys in the van, or the doors unlocked. I remember hearing about my Mom going in for a quick stop to drop something off and leaving us in the car. I don't even think we were strapped into car seats. My older brother got into the driver's seat, put the car in reverse and ended up across the street in the neighbour's flower garden. Oh, the days of long ago.....

Three kids and limited help sometimes leaves little choice. Stuff has to get done and it can't all be done after dinner. I just have to plan accordingly.

We had a good morning of running around. The Wee Ladies exercised first and then enjoyed a cruise around town. They had calmed down and were much easier to get along with.

By the time we got home, they were ready for some grub, some more play time, followed by a good, solid nap.

We all feel cooped up every now and then. A little change of scenery can do everyone some good once in a while.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Don't forget to reserve a spot for our Girl's Night Out!

Labels: DDM, Responsibility

I have changed servers and so this has put a slight glitch in the timing of yesterday's post on some computers. And today, I lost my digital phone and computer signal for a while. It is all back up and running, but while I was waiting EvieG and I worked with some fresh produce.

I went to the local market this morning. I love fresh, local produce, particularly when it is in season. I bought some fresh honeydew melon, broccoli, corn, tomatoes, and believe it or not, the season's first apples from a town about 40 minutes from here. Oh, and peaches too. All of this comes from around our area and if I can, we stick as close to the 100 Mile Diet. I buy local meat and eggs as well. The best part about the local produce, other than it is good for you, is that it cost me $15.

EvieG helped me put the other Wee Ladies down for their naps by fetching soothers and blankies. And then we tidied up the squalor that was the playroom. We then went to the sink and I taught her how to properly wash fruits and veggies. I showed her how to run the fruit or veggies under cold water while rubbing off the grime. She kept interrupting me and saying, "I can do it, I can do it." I guess she is a quick study.

All the while I am looking around on the counter and the floor and notice all these little pieces of broccoli. I asked, "What is all this broccoli doing all over the place?" She looked at me and smiled, "I ate it." I said, "You ate it?" And she replied, "Yes, I like eating trees." I laughed. I told her I would cut it up and put it in a bowl so she could help herself anytime she wanted a snack. I gave her permission to go in the fridge for broccoli.

I was trying not to fall over from shock. This is a kid who does not prefer anything green. But wow! She likes raw broccoli. She eats it cooked, but it is not her favourite. I better break out the raw cauliflower next!

We got everything washed and cut. And now it is ready for her to help herself. I love that she will eat the raw fruits and veggies. She eats baby carrots raw, but nothing else, well, except for broccoli. She will eat fruit like crazy.

The other 2 Wee Ladies enjoy raw fruit. Not so much the veggies yet. I will often walk by the fruit bowl only to find a bite out of a peach or an apple. It's like a little mouse has gotten in there for a wee snack. Spark Plug loves apples and eats the core and all. The Destroyer is just getting started.

So what's on tonight's menu?

Pizza at Grandma's. From a local pizza restaurant. At least we are keeping it local and not putting a McCain's Deep Dish in the oven.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Have a fun weekend and my apologies if there were glitches at all on your computer with the server change.

Labels: DDM, EvieG, Responsibility

The process of the first pregnancy+ first labour+ first delivery+ first baby= a mother of a freak out. I remember the time before EvieG was born and my anxiety level as it soared by the day. I was nervous about this life altering experience. I was panicked about how on earth I was going to adjust to having this little human invade our life. And I heard many crazy things along the way that sent my anxiety to a whole other level. That level I am sure was probably a trip to McDonald's for a McChicken Combo. I spoke to Auntie Missy this morning and she is about to give birth any second. And she is waiting. And she is anxious.

I remember the things people would tell me and things I would read. Just reading about the whole birthing process is enough to send anyone into panic mode.

Today Auntie Missy told me about her routine doctor's appointment. No big deal. All is well. But then it is the on-the-way-out, off-the-cuff comment of, "You better start counting the kicks." And I ask why was this person so inclined to off-handedly relay this comment? To instill the fear of complication in the poor girl? I mean COME ON! Who does that? And so she stands there thinking, "Man, I haven't really been counting kicks. I feel them all the time along with the rolling and punches. Why do I need to count kicks?" Especially in the couple of days before the birth, when the baby slows down as they get themselves ready to make their grand entrance into the world. Now is not the time to tell a soon-to-be-mom who is trying to cope with all that is to come, that they should be counting kicks. And there are numbers to go with this whole counting thing. Like you should aim to feel 10 kicks every 2 hours or something. I don't remember the specifics, but I do remember hearing this stat myself and I recall my own concern over this. If the baby is moving every now and then, and the mom is feeling ok, I'd say all is probably well.

Why do people do this? Why do people give new moms these look-fors? These boundaries to live by? Don't they realize that a hormonal pregnant woman takes these things and blows them up exponentially? Where does common sense fit in to all of this?

When our babies were born, I did not breastfeed. And in the hospital there was a chart on the back of the bathroom door showing the size of a newborn's stomach along with it's growth. In the early days, the size is equal to that of an almond. And they drove it home that it was absolutely necessary to have that kid consuming 2 ounces (60 mL) of formula by the time we set foot out the door. It never happened. I was happy to get between 15 and 30 mL in them.

The pressure we feel to abide by these rules makes for nervous parents. We are already a ball of nerves in this stage of life. To me it makes no sense to push the old, 'You have to do this and have to do that', onto expecting and new moms. It makes me angry because I remember feeling the pressure. I also remember realizing that it's okay. As long as we do our best to meet the needs of our child and create a healthy and loving environment, then that's all that matters.

I realize that they have to have some standards in place to help those who may be clueless. But for the most part, I think it is fair to say that generally speaking, people are going to raise relatively healthy kids and they know their bodies and themselves well enough to realize when things are sailing smoothly or when they may run into difficulty.

I felt badly for Auntie Missy as she called to ask about the kicking thing. And unfortunately, this is not the only time she will question and panic about the well-being of her newborn.

From here on in, jumpy nerves and panic and anxiety become an integral part of the daily emotions parents feel. It is inevitable. Good thing she went out and bought a state-of-the-art ear thermometer because there's nothing like the panic one experiences when the baby gets a temperature. I still check every 2 seconds when one of the Wee Ladies gets a fever.

I sometimes wish people would just take it down a notch when it comes to the nitty-gritty of babies. It is so easy to fall into the hype-trap. There is hype about everything. Hype about breastfeeding, hype about kicks, hype about bowel movements, hype about feeding solids, hype about SIDS, hype, hype, hype.

A little common sense is all that is required.

All's I'm sayin's all.

Labels: Responsibility

I moved the carbon monoxide detector from the kitchen counter to the top of the fridge. That's one less thing off my culinary surface area. And so we are on the final installment of the mini series. Today I write and leave this theme with the mire state of The Guzzler. Our frosty blue MINI-VAN that costs me my life savings to fill up. Two friends of mine and I took our kids to the beach this morning and I looked around the van. All I could do was cringe.

There are things in the van that seem to be permanent fixtures. Like Gremlins, no matter how many times I get rid of these items, another one miraculously appears.

Exhibit A: The Children's Section (Like its Their Mess)
We could play a fun and challenging game of Eye Spy an Empty Plastic Water Bottle. Be careful, don't let your eyes trick you. It's there among all of the other objects situated whose sole purpose is to distract you. See it? Right there to the left and slightly under the fuschia floral beach bag with the suntan lotion falling out, and slightly on top of the DOOR HANGER EvieG made for her bedroom. Why is that even in the van? I am still asking that myself. The other empty plastic water bottle is poking its head out of the top of my purse, which is forever in a state of squalor all on its own.

Beside my purse is one of Hubby's sweatshirts for those cold and romantic evening strolls along the beach that never happen. There are 2 sets of baby blue Crocs. One in a size 10 and the other in a size 3. And the van wouldn't be complete if there wasn't the trusty, empty box of Timbits. This is my old faithful. You can bet your sore right hip that you will ALWAYS be able to find a Tim Horton's box in our vehicle.

Exhibit B: Further into the Depths of The Guzzler
Behind the beach bag, it becomes evident what exactly is covering the what-used-to-be-blue-carpet. It is a fairly thick layer of sand. And this is not from today. It has been there for a while now. I am going to guess about 2 weeks. There is an empty yellow plastic kids sippy cup among the Crocs. There is another blue sippy cup on the seat with a sticky, eaten sucker stick glued to it, but you can't see it. The doll is laying on top of the sand yelling at me to free her from the grip of nastiness which surrounds her. She begs for mercy. She cannot be left among the rotting Timbits as the heat bursts the mercury at over 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

Exhibit C: The Grand Finale
And so I wondered what it was that was jabbing me in the back from behind the driver's seat. I looked and realized that it was none other than A-SECOND-CIRCA-1988-AAA-ROAD-ATLAS! Only unlike the first Road Atlas I wrote about in Part I, this one has its front cover intact. Who is the Road Atlas Fairy placing these throughout my home and van? I would surely like to know. For all of the traveling we don't do throughout this wonderful continent (it includes a map of Mexico), I think that it would probably be better and wiser if I carried an extra blanket and emergency kit, with flares, a jack, and extra water, as opposed to empty water bottles.

I think that no matter how hard I try to stay one step ahead of the squalor, I am always going to be two behind. With the Wee Ladies requiring so much of my attention, I find I can only get the bare essentials accomplished. I have days where I feel as though I am never going to get ahead and that my life will forever be one of damage control. Because that is all that I can seem to get done.

I will eventually get around to it. So I may rant about my state of squalor, but eventually it all gets done. Complete squalor elimination is simply not going to happen, but it might improve slightly if I devote a block of time to de-cluttering. Shall we bet on it?

I guess I should take the vacuum from its friends fine crystal and clean up the sand in the van. The last thing I need is for the Wee Ladies to add to the squalor by dragging a bit of Lake Erie into the house.

I'll do that right after I get back from my trip that was planned using the circa 1988 AAA Road Atlas.

All's I'm sayin's all.

PS Thanks for reading. Have a fun weekend! I will be back on Monday, right after I attempt to partially de-squalorize the house and van.

Labels: Battle, Chores, DDM, Guilt, Responsibility