Anti-Bullying Day is a Crock of Shit

Today, as we do every September, I dressed my kids in pink and sent them to school to stand with their peers and recite a pledge not to be a bully, not to stand by while others get bullied, to care for one another and generally not be little assholes to each other. Aww. Nice right?

It's all good, in theory. And I'm sure the warm fuzzy feelings that float among their pink-clad selves will last at least until the end of the day, everyone on high alert to recognize "bullying" and stop it in it's tracks. Of course bullying is wrong and I whole-heartedly support every effort to put an end to it.

Here's the thing: the bullies don't give a crap about any of this. They are the kids who will continue to be little assholes regardless of how much pink everyone wears. They're not suddenly going to have an attack of conscience and decide "Hey, you know they're right... bullying DOES hurt. My bad". No.

Never mind the fact that we are raising a generation of kids who don't even really know what "bullying" IS. They see kids picking on kids, or being rude or obnoxious, or shoving a kid in the lunch line, or sticking their tongue out at a kid who they don't like, and they run to tell. Guess what -- that's not bullying. If your kid has ever legitimately been bullied, you know that's not it. But our kids think this is bullying. The term bullying has come to mean any time a kids does something unsavory to another kid. "Johnny grabbed Jennie's pencil out of her hand. He's a bully". That's not it, people.

But, I digress. My point is, the whole Anti-Bullying Day and the pledge and all the pink in the world won't make today's asshole kids suddenly NOT asshole kids tomorrow. They are the ones who won't get it. They are the ones who are probably getting bullied themselves. They likely have an asshole dad or older brothers or gym teacher or whoever in their lives who is constantly picking on them, taunting them, belittling them... so guess what? They are the ones who turn around and do it to the kids around them. Of course they do. What else do they know? Why would we expect any different?

The so-called "bullies" aren't the problem... it's the one who made them this way who are the problem. And no amount of chanting and cheering in a school assembly is going to change that.

Do I think kids should step up and say something when they see another kid being bullied? Of course I do! Should they take action and step in when kids need it? YES! Do I think the one day of wearing pink and school assemblies will do a damn thing to curb this behaviour? Absolutely not.

So, I will dress my kids in pink for one day every September, and I will high five them when they tell me about the pledge and how bullying is wrong and we all need to work together to stop it. And I'll tuck them in their beds at night knowing nothing will be different tomorrow, because the assholes who wore pink today will still be assholes tomorrow, in a different coloured shirt, and they're just going to have to figure out how to deal with them.

Today you are EIGHT

Well kiddo, eight short years ago your arrival made me a mommy, and for that I will be eternally grateful. You've brought me more joy, laughter, aggravation, fun, intrigue and love than I ever could have imagined.

You are goofy, funny, caring, inquisitive. The love you show for your family makes my heart burst. The questions you ask make my head explode (sometimes!) -- both because of how smart they are, and how dumb they make me feel. You keep me on my toes, that's for sure.

I can see you starting to compare yourself to your peers. Remember that there will always be someone faster than you, and there will always be someone slower. None of that matters -- what matters is that you are kind, and that you try your very best every day. Don't ever stop being you. You are a great kid -- never forget that.

You are growing up. You've mastered the art of snapping, and you've almost learned how to whistle. You can whiz down the street on your scooter like a pro (even past the second driveway where you're supposed to stop). You've surpassed my video gaming abilities but you show patience when I don't get it. You can call your friends on the phone now, and when you are with them, you have deep conversations about things that I don't know much about, like Pokemon and Skylanders and Stampy Longnose.

I saw you roll your eyes a little yesterday. That's okay -- it's part of growing up. I see you maturing before my very eyes, especially when you take care of your little sisters. I miss my baby boy, but I love watching you grow and seeing who you are becoming.

When I look at you, I see me. I see your anxiety, your fears, your creativity, your joy, and your head-in-the-cloudsness. It's all good -- they're all a part of what makes you YOU, and you are really pretty awesome. You'll find a way to make it all work for you; hopefully I can help along the way.

Happy 8th Birthday to my big boy. I love you to the moon and back.

My Kids' Tooth Fairy Sucks

What really terrifies me, as a parent

As a parent in today's world, there are certainly a lot of things to be scared of. Kids getting hurt, contracting an incurable disease, the threat of the ever-ubiquitous Boogeyman, the worry that kids will grow up to be ax-murderers, or worse: garage band drop-outs. All things that will keep anxious parents up at night.

But what really terrifies me is none of those things. Maybe because they are all unknowns: you have no idea if any of those really scary things will touch your family in some way.

No, what really scares me is something that I know without a shadow of a doubt will affect my kids in a profound and unpreventable way.

DIY: An Easy, Fun, Meaningful Family Gift

It can be hard to come up with gifts for grandparents who seemingly have everything, and really just want a piece of the grandkids anyway.

With this in mind, we recently made this canvas for the Nonna in our life (hi!) and I think it turned out great! The bonus was that we were all able to participate, and in years to come it will server as a reminder of how small (and messy!) the kids hands were at this age.

Cool huh?

We started with a blank canvas from the Dollar Store, and painted the background all over. Then I added the brown tree shape - you could make it as realistic or whimsical as you want, with as many branches as there are family members. The kids chose their own colours for their hand-prints, and those become the 'leaves'. It just so happened they ended up making a rainbow of colours... that was a total fluke (but neat, right?).

The phrase we went with - you could put anything, this was inspired by how the tree came out in our case:

Family
   a little messy
      a little off-centre
          lots of love

What can I say... I was thinking on my feet! ;)

In any event it was hung at Nonna's house almost immediately and the kids are so proud to have been able to make something so neat for their grandmother. (I am annoyed that the lettering at the bottom ended up crooked... next time I'd put down some painter's tape to help guide me!)

Stop it, stop it, STOP.IT. Just STOP.

 - Gretchen Rubin

"Please, please just stop growing up. PLEASE. STOP."

This was me pleading with my 14-month-old this morning, after she had lovingly placed a drooly kiss on my cheek, and then slapped me in the face with both hands. As you do.

Despite the slapped cheeks - or possibly because of them? - I found myself looking at her with tears in my eyes and trying to stop time by hugging it out of her: if I hold on tight and squeeze, maybe I can stop the growing up. Please, honey. Seriously - please stop.

That goes for your brother and sister too.

I see them changing before my eyes and I don't like it. Not one bit. They're getting bigger. They're getting those "big kid" eyes - the ones that one minute are laughing because you said "boogie" (I didn't mean THAT! Oh nevermind.), and the next they're looking at you sideways because you said no treats after supper. The big kid eyes that tell you they know stuff. They're starting know some stuff that I don't know. The balance is shifting. I don't like this growing up business AT ALL.

It's the little things:

I no longer need to unfold The Girl's socks for her, or button up her one pair of button-up PJs. I don't know when this started.

I pull jeans out of the dryer and don't immediately know whose they are - mine or theirs?

The way The Boy asks if I can play Mario Kart with him, and when I tell him I can't right now, he shrugs and says, "That's okay." Wait - what? It's okay? Like, that's cool. Whatever mom. I'm cool. *shrug* No whining? No tantrum? When did this start?

The way The Girl brushes her hair away from her face while she's drawing.

The way Baby Girl nodded and said "Yes." when I asked her if she wanted another cracker. Excuse me? Since when do you nod and say "yes" like you're a teenager or something? (I was so distracted, I didn't even do the requisite parental "Yes... please?")

The time The Boy was telling a story and added, laughing, "It was so random."

You don't even notice these things evolving, just one day they are happening and it's all around you - your kids growing up, having the knowing eyes and shrugging and tossing of the hair - and you can't stop time the way you'd like. They just keep doing their thing and getting bigger and it's just... it's not cool, okay?

So, I'll take those slobbery kisses (baby drool does have that faintly sweet smell that you never thought you'd love, but you do...) and even the double chubby-hand face slaps. And I'll just keep trying to hug the growing up out of them. It's worth a shot, right?

Rites of Passage - first cafeteria lunch

It's funny the things that kind-of get to you as a parent, and make you realize your kids really are growing up (despite you telling them repeatedly not to). 

For the first time in his short school career, we sent The Boy off this morning without a lunch packed in his backpack. For the first time ever, he'll be getting his own hot lunch in the cafeteria.

No big deal, really. He's been eating lunch at school forever. But, he's never gone to the cafeteria - and for some strange reason (lack of sleep, most likely) I'm kind-of having a hard time with this. Is he really old enough to wander down to the cafeteria on his own? Will he know where to go, how to load his tray with food? Will he feel anxious trying to find somewhere to sit? I've even had some somewhat neurotic thoughts about his ability to cut his waffles. (Ha! Okay that's definitely lack of sleep talking.)

All kidding aside, it seems like there are these little rites of passage that keep creeping up on us - first sleepover at a friend's house, first school crush, first time using Windex. (Haha... One of my personal favourites.) And just like that, I have a kid who just yesterday - or 2 years ago, who can keep track? - was wearing pull-ups and carrying around a blankie and drinking from sippy cups, and is now standing in the hot lunch line at school ready to take on the world.

Such a small, insignificant thing... But oh, such a big thing. 

Should I start packing his bags for college now??

DIY LEGO costume

Have a LEGO fan at home?? You must make this costume!

With Halloween just around the corner, I thought I'd share the LEGO costume we made for The Boy last year. It turned out so well, and was surprisingly easy to make with just a cardboard box, some tape, paint, and red Solo cups!

We started with a fairly large box, cut oval holes for the head and arms, as well as a larger hole in the bottom with plenty of room to walk. We taped the edges of the box where we'd cut out the holes to make them smoother. In this case we used masking tape -- if I did this again I'd use something that would stay stuck better once painted, as the masking tape started to lift with the wet paint.

  

Next we took it outside and spray painted the box red (to make a red LEGO piece!). I used a Rustoleum spray paint ("Ultra Cover") in a bright red colour... it turned out perfectly and took about 3 light coats to really cover the box. 

 

Now to make it really look like a big LEGO brick... we taped red SOLO cups that we had cut down to about half the height to the front of the box using red electrical tape. The bigger the box, the more 'bumps' you could use. We chose 6 bumps for this size box.

Finally, we printed a few LEGO logos that we found online, and glued those to the side of the 'brick'. We also taped one to a red baseball hat and dressed The Boy in a red shirt and black pants. 

I think it turned out really well... certainly no mistaking what he was dressed up as, and he just LOVED the costume! It was worn many times after Halloween too...

It's Aliiiiive!

Wow. Just... Wow. What the hell happened to me? I am here... emerging from a pile of dirt and laundry and baby puke to bring you this post...

I've actually written a TON of posts in the past few months. In my head. It seems getting them actually written and posted has proven much more difficult! Instead I'll give the Coles Notes version of my life since my last update (38 weeks pregnant - whaaaat!), and eventually, someday, I will come back to write some more in-depth posts about various topics (like birth!)...

• Remember when I said I'd prefer not to give birth thankyouverymuch? Yeah, well I hit 40 weeks and waved the white flag... I.was.done. Isn't Mother Nature FAB, setting us up for birth like that? Lauren (Baby Girl) was born on Groundhog Day - at 40w 3d and a whopping 9 lb 3 oz. One word: OWIE. Beautiful, healthy, and perfect in every way, except for the lack of a neck (which we later found under several layers of chin). I will update much more on her later - I have nearly 5 months worth of poop and drool to post about! Ha!
• Winter gave way to Spring and I got to work on Garden 2.0. Being the seasoned veteran that I am, I started a ton of seedlings at just the right times, and then waited for the *perfect* time to put them all in the garden. And waited. And... Well that time never came, and I put them all out anyway, and they all died. The end. (Alright, all was not lost, but I'd be remiss if I said I didn't shed a few tears over those poor shriveled seedling carcasses. Fear not: there are a few green things out there. Garden update coming soon, I promise.)
• The Boy turned SIX. Six years old!! He's lost two teeth to date, and is barreling towards the finish line of his first year of Big School. He's still not interested in riding a bike, but has gotten reaaaally good at Mario Brothers and Skylanders. Sigh. His French is now much better than mine (not a huge feat mind you, but considering he didn't know ANY at the beginning of the year I'd say he's surpassed even my expectations).
• The Girl. What can I say - she is REALLY good at her job. Which is, of course, to torment her mother. She is spunk and joy and stubbornness and love all wrapped up and topped with a head of curls. Her newest proclamation: "If you don't let me _____ (have a freezie for supper / go to the store without pants / ride in the car without getting clicked in....etc), I will NOT LOVE YOU!". But I also get plenty of "Watch me Mommy! Watch me! Watch! Want to see my trick??" and she'll balance on one leg or twirl or jump off a huge rock and it's pure awesomeness.

And now, here we are on the first day of Summer. Life is good!! But ohh so busy. We now have THREE giggling children who just won't stop eating all our food and dirtying up the place... And lots of plans to keep us busy over the Summer. Now I really should get to one of the many baskets of laundry whispering my name... But instead I'm going back outside to make hay while the sun shines! Laundry can keep shooting me dirty looks all it wants. Ha! Take that, LAUNDRY.

An Open Letter to Coaches / Teachers / Adult Mentors...

I sometimes see notes from friends who are coaches, teachers, etc. about "Your kids", things parents should be doing or not doing when it comes to their kids. I can appreciate that there are some crazy parents in the world (haha), but I thought it important to send a note to the coaches and teachers of the world, too. Though I use the masculine form (ie, 'his'), know all of this applies to my daughter too.

Dear Coach, Teacher, Adult Mentor of my Son or Daughter:

First let me tell you that I think what you do is amazing. Anyone who works with kids on a daily or semi-regular basis, helping to guide them through this life, teach them things they will need to know to make them a better person, ought to be celebrated. Without you, the job of parents would be impossible -- we simply can't be everything for our kids all the time. So, thank you. It may be cliche, but it truly does take a village to raise a child.

I can appreciate the hard work and dedication you have for my child, and I know you want him to succeed, too.

To you, he is one of many. But to us, his parents, he is one in a million. He is our heart personified. We have sat on the edge of his bed in the middle of the night, rubbing his back, watching him breathe, waiting for the fever to break. We have paced the doctor's office or the ER, wringing hands, waiting anxiously for someone to tell us he would be okay. We have cried with him when he got hurt, we've celebrated with him when he's succeeded in doing that thing that he'd been trying so hard to do. We've felt our own heart break, when we've watched his heart break.

He's not the star in your sky, no. He's your average kid, one of a group of average kids. He's not amazing, or incredible, or exceptionally special in any way. Except, to us, he is. All of that, and more. We think about him all day long. We wonder how he's doing when we're not with him, we worry about him. We hurt when he doesn't live up to expectations. We're doing our very best to help him navigate his way through this world, to be respectable, driven, helpful, compassionate. We're doing our best to help him to do his best.

There isn't a way for you to ever see him the way we see him. We'll try not to be the crazy, irrational parents who you see on a regular basis, telling the coach / teacher / mentor that their child really IS special. But, please know, we can't help it. Because, to us, he just is.

Diary of a Real Pregnancy: Week 20 - Rootin Tootin Cowgirl (and the big reveal!)

Yeeee-HAW!

It's quite the ride out here in the wild west, pardner! Yippee-kai-yay!

Have I lost you yet? I've lost a few things (mostly marbles and my cool) lately, so that seems fitting. So what's all the rootin and tootin about?

Well let me tell you. It's about the cacophony of bodily instruments up in this place. I am a sound machine like no other... and the sound is the TOOT. I cannot.stop.tooting. Passing gas. Farting.

Alright, I know. That's horrible and also laughable. But let me tell you what's NOT laughable. When you walk around the office and it sounds like you are walking on ducks.

Walking on ducks.

Thankfully, by the grace of maude, these vociferous exclamations have been loud but otherwise innocuous. Still, totally embarrassing. I have no control either. No warning. Just 'toot toot toot!' as I walk-walk-walk. I can only hope nobody has noticed. A girl can hope!

Now on to much more important details...

The Big Reveal

We had our big ultrasound this week, aka the anatomy scan. Again, because I'm old as dirt, I got to go 'upstairs' to the Floor for Special Pregnant Ladies to have the scan done. The bonus of this is of course better technology, but also a doctor doing the scan, so he's at liberty to talk about everything he's seeing on the screen... including what's between the legs*! Yippee!
*On the screen! Not HIS. Gross!

Before I get into that I will say that everything looks great, baby is measuring right on track for dates - measuring 19w 6d when I was 20w 1d. The doc spent extra time on the palate to make sure there was no cleft (it runs in the family) and saw nothing of concern. I was also told I have the blood work of a 'fifteen-year-old'... so that's good! I think!

The Boy was able to be there with us, due to an unfortunate incident the night before requiring 5 stitches in his lip and skipping school the day of the ultrasound (he's fine now). I thought it would be so neat for him to see all this stuff with us... He thought it was much neater to play Battleship on the iPod. 5-year-olds...

When I saw that the doc was hovering around what I assumed was the crotchal area, I made sure to mention that we'd like to find out the sex if we could. He said "Sure thing! I will let you know as soon as I know! This is the stomach..." Right, I knew that.

At one point The Hubs and the Boy went to the washroom, and thats when the doc said "So, do you want to know what you're having?" And I said "Yes!! Do you know??" And he said yes. I suggested we wait until the men returned. The doc had another idea... his plan (which he shared with great enthusiasm, as if he'd planned the whole thing out on his way to work that morning), was for me to make a big list of things I wanted done around the house. Then, he'd tell ME the sex, and I could withhold the information from The Hubs until everything was done! Haha! Wouldn't that be GREAT!

I was like, "Honey, I hear ya. But I've had a list like that going for YEARS." I didn't say that The Hubs would probably just tickle me until I peed my pants and then I'd have to tell him.

Anyway he told me. Hee hee! Then the boys got back, and the doc went on with the ultrasound with nary a word about gender the rest of the time. Finally, he finished, said everything looked great, and no need to come back as he got all his measurements. Have a nice day!

The Hubs on the other hand was giving me A Look that said "WTF!", but didn't say anything. I nonchalantly said, "Oh... I know what we're having, by the way." He said "You do?? WHAT!" Ha. I asked one last time, what everyone thought. The Boy said a brother. The Hubs said a brother. I said...

Nope! You're wrong!

We're having another baby girl!!

We are thrilled! A baby sister for The Girl. The Boy was like "Oh that's nice" haha, and The Girl's reaction was basically to tell us she knew this all along so what's the big deal?

Now we're on the hunt for names, as I don't think Plate or Table are quite fitting for our little princess :)


Previous: Week 19 - Almost Half-way! What!
Next: Week 21 - Anger Management

And then, they go and do something like this...

Kids. Always at ya. Adorable, but tantrummy. Hungry, but hate everything you suggest to eat. Scream at you for looking at them funny, but don't want you to leave the room. Aggravate you one minute, then run up and give you a hug for no reason. And so it goes.

After this past weekend of cleaning, organizing, chores galore and not much time reserved for play, both the kids and the parents were starting to get cranky with each other. Generally the kids have been playing SO WELL together (ack! I said it out loud! *knocking on wood*) so in that respect they were at least entertained by each other... even though I kept thinking, 'I should be doing that puzzle with them...' etc. I do know we're lucky that they enjoy each other's company though, so that when a weekend like the one we just had comes along, we can focus on the big people stuff (and my goodness it's nice to have a beautifully organized laundry room again!!) while they play.

But, of course, two whole days at home is a long time, and they got tired of each other. Little arguments, yelling... then us yelling to cut it out.

Sometime mid-afternoon today (I know it was after The Girl's nap as she was pantsless... don't ask), they both ended up on their i-Things, playing games next to each other on the couch. It's funny, because even though we have a big ole house with lots of places to go off and do their own thing, I still find them squashed next to each other in the same small chair sometimes.

Anyway, this past weekend we hadn't had a whole lot of 'electronics' as The Boy calls them, and the TV had been off most of the time, so I felt okay letting them veg out and play on 'electronic's for a bit while I finished up some of my jobs. There they were, on the couch, each in their own world and iGame, and that's when I heard this...

The Boy (quietly, without looking up): "I love you."
The Girl: "I love you, too."

I mean. Seriously.

God I love these kids.

Diary of a Real Pregnancy: Week 18 - Not much happening

So this week came and went and I totally forgot to write anything until now. Typical... third child. So easily forgotten. Technically I am still 18 weeks pregnant for another hour and a half, so it counts. :)

Two things did happen this week though: people started noticing my belly, and I had a doctor's appointment. Wowee! Honestly besides that there's really nothing going on.

Getting comments from people who know I'm pregnant is both exciting and a little off-putting. It's nice that it's not all in my head that I'm expanding a little, but at the same time it means others can SEE me getting bigger, they've noticed. She has a BELLY. It's only off-putting in the sense that I tend to forget there's anything there, so when someone says "Oh look at your belly!" my first thought is, What?? Did I spill something? No, I'm just bigger. Right, there's a baby in there, and it's not just my little secret.

The doc appointment went well... EVerything checked out fine and dandy. I had The Boy with me so he got to hear the baby's heart and helped hold the doppler so that was all very exciting. Doc said the heartbeat was 140. Girl? Boy? Your guess is as good as mine. I've gained more weight... up 12 lbs now. Aie aie aie. I can't remember how much I'd gained by this point in my previous pregnancies. I feel small(er) than I was last time, but I don't know if it's me being forgetful about being pregnant or if I actually am smaller. Or if I know how big I will eventually get so it's like, this is nothing. Either was 12 lbs seems okay, "they" say to average 1 lb/week so we'll see how that pans out...

Hard to believe we are nearly halfway there... Less than two weeks until our BIG ultrasound!! Eeeee!!

Previous: Week 17 - Active Baby, and You Are What You Eat
Next: Week 19 - Almost Half-way. What!

Diary of a Real Pregnancy: Week 15 - I'm Old, and The Talk

Have I told you all that I'm of Advanced Maternal Age? In other words, in the OB world... old? Up until this point I've laughed at this notion... sure it took us a little longer to get pregnant this time, and we're doing some extra tests and scans, but besides that, 35 isn't actually OLD anymore, right?

Wrong. I am feeling every year of my 35 years. Or maybe it's just that I was hopelessly out of shape when I got pregnant. Whatever it is, I'm feeling it. A co-worker had the gall to come into the building at the same time as me the other morning, and of course since he took the stairs, I had to, too. Damn him. By the time I completed the third flight, I thought my lungs were going to implode, and my legs were on fire. Yep, 15 weeks and I'm feeling it. I was literally wheezing like a geriatric patient. This does not bode well for the rest of this pregnancy!

I feel like I should be doing something (other than eating... I've got that covered) in order to get in better shape. But when? How? What? Swimming? Haha. Maybe. But who has time? Yoga? Again. No time. I know I'd feel better if I did something, so it's something I'll need to think about. I didn't have to do anything the first two times. Damn being old.

Besides all that, this week was the week that my dear, sweet 5-year-old asked me The Question. Not THAT question (how'd it get in there?), the other one. Here's how it went.

I was on my computer (on thebump.com) and The Boy came over, asked what I was doing. I showed him the picture of what the baby looks like now and it's the size of an orange. He was fascinated, and wanted to see each week! All was fine until he asked to see week 40, and I pointed out that the baby was upside-down getting ready to come out.

Open mouth... insert foot.

He laughed and said, "Haha, the baby's FEET are going to come out of your mouth!". I laugh. Silly baby coming out upside-down. Hoping that was the end of it. (I am *terrible* at this, can you tell?)

He thinks about it a minute. Cogs turn. I think, 'Oh god.' And then... "But, HOW does the baby come out? At the hospital."

I feel myself clam up. This is NOT a big deal. WHY am I so stressed about this. I say "You know honey, it just... pops out." Yep. Totally accurate.

He says, "No but, how does it?" What I wanted to say? "Magic!"

Poof! Baby!

Okay. Fine. Fine. I'll just tell him. "Well honey the baby comes out of--" ohgod I have to say it "my... vagina." I might die, right now.

"Your... pachina? What's your pachina?" Seriously? So I say, "Honey it's like where girls pee, and stuff. You know - boys have a penis, girls have a vagina. Down there." Point in the general direction. He pulls a face and says "The baby's going to come out of your BUM???"

This is hilarious and horrific at the same time.

He looks to where I pointed. "Can I see your pachina?" I'm like, "NO you can't see my VAgina." He asks why. I say it's private. He says "But, you know me. So, it's okay. You can show me." LOL. Okay, our talk about keeping private things private except with your parents and people you trust sank in. But, omg. So I laugh and say "No, you are not seeing my vagina." Now please stop talking about my pachina!

Thank GOD he remembered why he came over to talk to me in the first place, and we went about our day without any more 'incidents'.

I swear I'll die the day either of my kids asks how it got in there. 

Previous: Week 14: Mush Brain and Baby Names
Next: Week 16: I Feel (Not) Pretty

Diary of a Real Pregnancy - Week 13: And Now the World Knows

Not only is this week the start of the SECOND TRIMESTER (whaaat!!), it's quite possibly the week that everyone and their dog finds out that you're expecting. I'm certainly glad we waited this long to tell The Boy and The Girl our big news... they were so excited that they've told, well, everyone. Saves us the trouble of making any kind of formal announcement! Plus it's fun to watch people ask you if the rumour is true, trying not to offend you but really, really wanting to know. And then you get to say YES! We are expecting! Yes, for real! I have proof!

And then you get the comments. Sure, everyone is well meaning... but I'm really surprised how many people act like three kids is either nuts, or had to have been unplanned. The number of times I've been asked "Were you planning this?" A) as if it's anyone's business if we were planning this and B) as if it's so crazy to have three kids. I mean... three kids! It's not like we're announcing we're expecting number 19! *ahem*

But yes, just to clear it up, this was very much planned :) We bought a house with 4 bedrooms upstairs, we've had a minivan for years... yes. Planned, welcomed, possibly still crazy but only because who wants to do the whole newborn thing? I mean... REALLY. Up 4-5 times a night with a screaming baby... liquid poo... total inability to do... anything but cry and poo. And sleep (but only a little).

Then they grow up a bit, and then you catch them, as I did our first two kids, playing together and making each other giggle and it all just fits. Hopefully #3 will fit right in with the other two and it won't be the straw that broke mommy's back and made her start drinking at breakfast time. I'm totally, partially, somewhat optimistic that that won't happen. Time will tell.

But... we have lots of time for that. Right now it's just the second trimester. Really I have a hard time believing that we're here already. It's not possible. We JUST got the positive test... right? Lately my symptoms have been still tired (does that ever go away??), nosebleeds, and oh the latest this week - really, really irritable. Like, I have no time for any of this crap so get the hell out of my way type irritable. Baby is only the size of a peach or something, and already running the show.

Overall though this is the week that our news is "out there", which is fun but in a way feels like an invasion of my privacy, because people know something about me that I've been hiding for a while. It's strange, but nice too, because I have a reason for being so crazy and absent-minded lately. But my choices also seem like they're public domain, even if nobody has the balls to say anything - I see you watching me eat that chocolate bar. I see your judgey eyes thinking "You should be eating an apple, honey. Your poor suffering baby!" Don't judge me! Now I don't know if anyone does think badly, but as I'm already on the irritible train everyone looks like they're judging me, all the time. Screw you! I'm eating this chocolate bar! Antioxidants! Ha.


I also realized today (13.5 weeks) that I'm showing a bit, at least in the dress I'm wearing. There's no mistaking that little bump. My body shape is still somewhere between Pregnant and Not Pregnant, in that "Uhh, you've put on a few pounds" stage where it just looks like you've been eating too many Cheetos. Which I have, but that's not the point. Time to take some belly pictures!

Cheeeeeeese

Previous: Week 12: The Proof in the Ultrasound Pudding
Next: Week 14: Mush Brain and Baby Names

From Preschooler to Big Kid: Happy 5th Birthday to The Boy

My not-so-little boy turned five today.

FIVE.

Five years ago I was wondering what the HELL I was doing... who's great idea this whole 'baby' thing was and how the HELL I was going to get that baby OUT of there! (Still boggles the mind if you ask me.)

Five years later, I'm still wondering what the hell I'm doing. Funny how that never changes. Sure I can (and have) change a diaper with my eyes closed, wipe someone else's bum without blinking an eye, and I now know the best way to handle minor boo-boos that seem pretty major at the time (in a word: freezies).

But since every new day with The Boy is a stage we've never experienced, he gets to teach us how to parent in the moment, as we go. Isn't he lucky!

We don't yet know how to handle 'big school', or girlfriends, or broken bones (KNOCKING ON WOOD). We haven't put him on a bus by himself or helped him put together a project on Nefertiti or the Human Body. We have yet to send him careening down the street on a two-wheeler without training wheels, or deal with him running away or telling us he hates us (again, knocking on wood, though I know these things are probably coming). We haven't had to explain where babies come from or why pets have to die, or teach him to cross the bunny ears and loop-swoop-and-pull.

We'll learn all those things and more, I know. But we're not there yet... for now it's all band-aids on scrapes and time-outs and LEGO and three books at bedtime and the excitement of a playdate with your best friend.

Happy 5th Birthday little buddy. Love you.

1 year

1 week

2 years

3 years

4 years

Five!

They're Just Trying to Make the Moms Cry

I swear, half the stuff set up for parents and kids are designed solely to make moms cry. And I'm not a crier! I didn't even cry at the movie Beaches, even though everyone else in the room was a blubbering mess.

Yesterday was a big day around here. The Boy had his Primary Orientation, which is the day they have all the 'newbies' come to Big School to get familiar with it before school starts in September. They also assess the kids to see where everyone will fit and assign teachers and classrooms accordingly. For parents of kids who are just starting for the first time, it's a chance to meet the teachers, and start to get a feel for this whole "school" thing.

Now, we aren't total newbies... The Boy went to preschool when he was three, and now attends a daycare with a preschool program, with a focus on learning and schedules and taking turns and working in groups -- all the things kids need before they start school.

And yet, taking my little boy into that big building with all the classrooms and big kids and a cafeteria and library... Aren't those things for big kids? Like, teenagers? Exciting, for sure. But big... a big deal, this whole school thing. And I really can't believe, as most parents have echoed, that the time is here already. How have 5 years gone by so quickly? It's really not possible... is it?

I've been told once kids start school, time speeds up even more. Everything goes in fast-forward and before long, your little boy with his brand-new backpack and pencil case and his name in his shoes is getting his driver's license and graduating from High School. I think that's what's getting me about him starting school -- it's not that going to Primary is so heartwrenching, it's the reminder that you can't stop time, and your kids just keep growing up. Exciting... but...

And then, the principal read us parents a poem, which I guarantee was just to get us all to cry. I was FINE up to that point. It was just orientation! Not like he's really starting school... yet... I held it together watching him walk to the front of the room and go off with 20 other kids to check out the classrooms, without us, like a big boy. But when the principal said to get our tissues ready, and began to read this poem about handing our kids over to the capable teachers and not being able to watch everything they do and achieve... well I admit I welled up.

We still have a few months before The Big Day (which we're told we're not supposed to make a huge hairy deal of so as not to scare the kids... HA!!), and then I will be a total mess. Until then, I'm enjoying every minute of my "preschooler" kid.

Okay, not every minute. I love him... but come on. :)

Gender Bias: Turns out, I'm guilty too

I've always thought of myself as fairly progressive when it comes to gender equality. While I didn't really think about it much when my son was born for some reason, I've been acutely aware of the effect gender bias has on our decisions when it comes to my daughter. I'm not sure why I focused on it with her and not him... perhaps because there's an assumption that if you pigeon-hole your daughter as a GIRL, it's oppressive, but if you treat your son as all BOY, you're doing him a favour. Why is that? I don't know. But I digress...

In the past two-and-a-half years since The Girl was born, I've done my best to maintain a balance and present a fairly neutral 'front' when it comes to the the toys, games, and clothes we provide for her. This was fairly easy, given that a lot of the toys we had in the house were either neutral or typically "boy" toys. Now, I don't know why trucks and dinosaurs are considered BOY things, but they are. Since we already had all those things in the house, when The Girl came along and we were given all the pink and doll things, it just blended in, and she had a choice as to what to play with. I imagined her as that little freckly-faced kid in jeans and braids who we've all seen, so proud of her (blue and red and green) LEGO creation.


At certain times I do find myself getting caught up in the whole "girly girl" thing. I did kindof want to slap myself when I realized I'd played right into the marketing of pink to girls: on her first birthday, when The Girl ripped open her presents, lo and behold there was a PINK toy sorter, and a PINK school bus. Oh, dear. How did those get in there?? Okay, I found it hard to resist... I mean that pink school bus is just too cute. But, why didn't I just buy the yellow school bus? Did it being pink offer any added play value? I'm not saying there's anything inherently wrong with pink... It's a great colour, but am I sending a message to my daughter when I buy her a pink school bus instead of yellow? I would never have bought my son a pink school bus. (And why not?)


Despite the occasional pink toy (and a boatload of baby dolls -- The Girl happens to love them, what can I say?), I think we have a fairly good mix in our house. We try not to influence them one way or another when it comes to choices, what they want in terms of colours, clothing, toys... We offer a wide range and they decide. The Boy often chooses pink, and why not? I'd say we're doing pretty well.

Or at least, I thought so. Until I realized gender bias is underneath it all, even despite trying to be aware of it and keep my own ideas of what is "for girls" and "for boys" checked at the door. After signing the kids up for various spring activities, I was smacked down with my own bias and realized I'd sent a very clear and unintended message to my son. When he heard that his sister would be doing gymnastics every Saturday he turned to me and said, "I want to do gymnastics too! Like they do on TV!".

Oh, dear.

Well past the registration deadline at this point, with no chance to get him signed up for this semester, I had to explain to him why I had signed his sister up for gymnastics, and him for t-ball, and not the other way around.

I really don't have a good answer for him. (Mom Fail #923)

The Fear of Daycare Illnesses

Every other week or so, I receive an email that fills me with dread, makes my stomach lurch, or my heart start pounding.

The "We have a confirmed illness" email from daycare.

Dun dun duuuuuuun.

Oh sure - it looks cute NOW.

First of all, how are all these kids getting sick all the time? The daycare isn't even that big... but literally every other week there's something. Strep throat, of course. Or flu. Then there's the dreaded L word.

Lice.

Ick yick gick. Lice may not make anyone really ill, but they still fill my heart with dread. We have, thankfully (*knocking on all things wood*) not brought any of these disgusting critters home -- YET -- but every time we get the email, I'm checking the kids heads like it's my job and filling their baths and shampoo with tea tree oil. The Hubs knows now, when he smells that stuff, "Lice at school again?" Yep, and don't even say that word or it will jinx us!

I don't know why, but I'm actually afraid of lice. Blech. Gross.

Oh and this week? Scarlett fever, AND Hand-foot-mouth diseases. Seriously. That place is a germ factory!!

Now, off to Lysol... everything.

Happy Birthday big boy!!

Our wee Matthew is three years old. THREE! Wow.

Happy Birthday to my little man.