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.

Not YOU... You're the Good One!

NO no no.

The "good" one has started to act up.

No, this can't be. She's our rule-follower. Our middle child, our quiet one. The pleaser. Sure she has her moments, her fits of crying, times when she's immobilized by shyness. But, she's our good girl!

But lately, I've seen a little flash in her eye, as she swears up and down and inside out that what she's saying is TRUE! It's TRUE Mommy, I didn't sleep at ALL last night! Or, For real, I got a elephant one [vitamin]!"*

*SIDEBAR -- why do my kids insist on classifying every little thing, and placing a higher value on things that are exactly the same?? The 'elephant' and 'hippo' vitamins taste *exactly* the same as the 'doggy' one, just with a different picture engraved on the side, little children! Can't you see that?? Gaah!

But I digress. The point is, The Girl has started to lie like a rug.

Now, I know it's a phase in childhood... it's just her age. She is 5.5... 5.5 year olds lie. They just do. And I know it's probably good for her, in the long run, to test out fact from fiction, her acting skills, asserting herself in the face of a challenge.

At least that's what I'm telling myself as I question her on these things that are CLEARLY lies (or "fibs" as we call them, trying to soften the edges a little).

She couldn't be The Good One forever... but come on, we only get 5.5 years? The Boy is WAY too smart for us, and Baby Girl is hell on wheels in comparison... don't we get ONE good kid to balance things out?

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?

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.

Diary of a Real Pregnancy: Week 35: Holidaze and a Cheap Tour of L&D

The whirlwind of the holidays means pregnancy 'stuff' gets put on the back burner! I'll tell you one thing, wrapping gifts goes into a whole new dimension when you have this hugeass belly getting in the way. Somehow it all managed to get done (some things a little late, like mailing packages... oops), but man did my back ever pay the price.

Turns out gaining 40+ pounds and being totally out of shape is seriously not a good idea if you want to be able to walk normally. Waddling would actually be an improvement at this point... Most of the time these days I can't even get up from a chair properly, I'm in so much pain. Pregnancy massage is *amazing*, but the relief only lasts for that one hour, and then it's back to hobbling around like an old lady. Super.

On the plus side (pardon the pun ;)), Christmas really has been wonderful this year. I'm enjoying our last Christmas as a family of four, and imagining what it will be like next year with a fifth member of our family crawling (and possibly toddling!) about. Pretty awesome.

Then... Christmas Day. A funny thing happened...

A while back I had been complaining (Nooo not me!) that the hospital where we're going to deliver doesn't do refresher labour & delivery courses or a tour of the facilities. Since we delivered in another hospital the last two times, I just wanted to have a look and get a feel for where we'd be once it was 'go time'... but, no luck.

Anyway back to Christmas day. There we were, bellies full of Christmas Morning Wife Saver (the only acceptable breakfast for Christmas morning!), presents opened, everyone in their PJs just starting to think about getting ready to head over to Nonna & Opa's (my parents). The Girl announced from the bathroom that she'd peed and wanted me to come have a look (aren't 3-year-olds the best?), which I did. Except, in the process of helping her off the toilet, we both ended up falling to the floor. 38 pounds of toddler, right on my belly.

And then...

A puddle. Beneath me. What the...?? I had an internal freak-out session. Did I just pee on the floor? Or... is that... did my water break?? I had no idea what was happening. I got myself cleaned up (meanwhile The Girl reported back to The Hubs that "Mommy peed in her pants!"... sigh) and sat there wondering what to do...

My doctor has been pretty clear as to when to go to Labour & Deliver (L&D): any gushes of fluid, or bleeding. In fact she reminded me of this every time I saw her... and this seemed like a pretty clear 'gush of fluid' to me. Thing is, it's really hard to tell the difference between urine and amniotic fluid :\

SO. Packed the kids up. The Hubs and I exchanging looks like "OMG"... We are, of course, nowhere near ready to welcome a baby home. (Turns out we're more ready than I thought, but having done NOTHING for baby at this point we really were in deer-in-headlights mode...) I threw together a makeshift labour bag, some things for baby just in case, and we headed out. Dropped the kids with my parents, headed in to L&D.

So, I did get my tour of L&D after all... on Christmas day no less. Of course, after monitoring the baby for a while (nurse laughing about how crazy active she is... kicking the monitors nearly off my belly!), and doing their various tests, it was confirmed: I peed myself. Merry Christmas to me!

I was so glad it wasn't baby time but totally embarrassed that we'd gone through all that just to find out I'd peed on the floor. So lame.

But -- it was a wake-up call... It really could be any time. (Course, just watch, I will be a full week late or something, oh dear.) Time to get our butts in gear!

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.

Happy Third Birthday!

Happy 3rd Birthday to my favouritest three-year-old girl in the world!

Thought I'd share ten things about The Girl as she turns the big 0-3:

1. She loves Bubble Guppies and Dora the Explorer
2. Her favourite colour is green (despite me trying to make it purple)
3. Her favourite outfit is anything with Dora on it, or her flowery dress (see pics below)
4. She is kind and generous (when she's in the mood) -- she'll offer you bites of her food, or she'll offer to get you some of your own. "You want some?"
5. She has the BEST and most infectious giggle
6. Her favourite indoor activity is putting together puzzles
7. She needs "Other Bunny" in order to sleep (one of three bunny blankets, the other two are "Bunny" and "Bun-Bun", but Other Bunny is her #1. Ironic, yes?)
8. Her hair is curly and her eyes are blue... we don't know where either of these traits came from!
9. She has a thing for mommy's shoes, especially the ones in mommy's closet with the 4" heels that mommy will probably never wear, and the strappy gold ones that were bought for Halloween one year.
10. She really, really loves her big brother, laughs at all his antics, and wants to do everything he does. (Except potty train, apparently, but who's counting.)

Finally, some pictures from her party. She had SO much fun with her three best friends, Sara, Olivia and Meghan. It was a simple little party at home, and it was perfect for this spunky little 3-year-old.

Love you, baby girl.
xo, Mommy

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.

Veggie Garden... so much to learn

Here I thought I'd plant these things, these super awesome 4' x 8' raised garden beds, and they would spring forth with veggies aplenty... enough for us to enjoy fresh-picked salads all summer. OH! How bountiful we'd be! I imagined myself dropping off our extra zucchini and cucumbers and tomatoes at neighbours' doorsteps by the bushelful.

Suffice to say, I still have a LOT to learn about how to grow vegetables. Clearly, abandoning your garden with just a bi-monthly fertilizing and automatic daily 20-minute watering doesn't result in the kinds of yeilds I'd envisioned...

Part of the problem (besides having very little time or energy for it), is the stinkin horseflies. Or deerflies. Whatever they are... I literally step outside and within 2 minutes they attack. They're relentless! I can't STAND them!!! So I run back inside with my one miniature carrot and handful of lettuce that I managed to snag before they got to me and leave the rest to whither.

Now, I will say, we have had a little bit of success, considering how much I've neglected things out there. Yesterday after a week away (and then an ensuing day of laundry), I donned my bug hat and took The Girl out to assess the situation. I was pleasantly surprised to find a handful of green beans, a few fat but stubby carrots (seriously, 2" wide but only 3" long... what the...??) and a handful of red cherry tomatoes. Yay! Only the carrots made it into the house without getting devoured by The Girl and I. The tomato plants are heavy with green fruit just waiting to mature.

I've discovered the joy of eating veggies that you've just grown in your own back yard. There's really nothing sweeter than warm, freshly picked cherry tomatoes off the vine. They were *delicious*. Like candy. It's too bad there weren't more!

But I do know there are a few things I need to do out there... I just need to find the time. I pulled a few weeds (and ended up teaching The Girl the difference between a weed and a pepper plant... a little too late...), staked a couple of errant tomato shoots, and propped the cucumber plants back up on their supports. The one zucchini plant is whithered and doesn't seem to be producing anything, I have one weirdly shaped cucumber and a single miniature pepper, and my lettuce has bolted...

More importantly, I have learned that I have much to learn about all of this. Next year... Next year will be better. I'm going to ROCK it. Salads for everyone!

When your kid gets hurt (even a little)

Well, we can check another item off The Girl's bucket list: get stitches.

The Girl decided about three weeks ago that at the ripe old age of 2.75, she no longer needed the bed rail on the side of her bed. For some reason, mommy reason lost and toddler reason won... partly because I do want to encourage her independance whenever I can... And not be too paranoid or worried about them getting hurt. You know - more forward thinking and relaxed than I was with my firstborn?

In any event she's been sleeping with a spare mattress on the floor next to her bed and a pillow tucked between her bedside table and the bed. Can't be too safe! She's fallen out a few times, hit the mattress, we put her back in bed and that's that. No biggie. So when we heard that familiar *whomp* and ensuing crying, we didn't panic or sprint upstairs. In fact The Hubs went and I even said (when the monitor got quiet for a second), "Ahh maybe she's fine."

Then I hear from her room, "Uhhh... can you bring in a towel??" A... what? Towel? Thinking she'd leaked through her diaper or something I casually get an old towel and wander into her room.

The Hubs shows me his hand. Covered in blood.

It took me a second to register it. I thought he cut himself. The Girl wasn't crying at all, so I was confused. Then he showed me the side of her head - hair all matted down with blood, pillow case stained. Wha...? The Hubs sees my face and reminds me, "Heads bleed a lot, remember." Right. Heads bleed.

We had to get her cleaned up to see where it was coming from. Slight panic as I fear it's coming from her ear and as she's wanting to go back to sleep I think for half a second, she's seriously hurt (rational thought is not my strong suit late at night). Get her in the bath to rinse her hair and it's a small gash, about 1", but deep. Might need stitches. But wow... all that blood from this little gash. Heads DO bleed a lot.

This is one of those moments where you have the internal parental battle with yourself. Do we get her dressed and drive all the way downtown to children's emergency where there will be kids who are *actually* really hurt or sick, and possibly wait a few hours, if she might not even need to go? But what if she does need a stitch? What if it gets infected? But it's not bleeding anymore. But man, it is gaping. What to do? (Meanwhile I'm thinking... there needs to be an app for this. Go/No Go)

We decide we'd be total loser parents if we didn't take her in, so get her dressed and in the car and away they go, The Hubs and The Girl, who by now is cheery and asking "Are we going to the doctor? Are you coming to the doctor too?". Oh but have to find the health card first, and figure out where to take her because we're not really sure. These aren't the details you tend to read up on before you need them. (Note to parents... it's a good idea to at least know where your children's emergency room is, you know, before you NEED that information.) We're lucky that she was relatively okay, I can't imagine trying to figure out these details if a child was seriously hurt!

In the end the docs did say it was good we brought her in (score one point for parents) and were able to give her a glue stitch. Total bonus (it's quicker, doesn't require shaving, and a lot less traumatic for the kids!). And now we know where the ER is and how to get there. Just in case. And in case anyone's wondering, The Girl was totally fine... happy as a clam, giggled at the docs, and bouncing around the house (literally... bouncing) at 6:30 am the next morning, despite being up until 1 am. This girl...

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

How to Soften the Blow of a 6 am Wake-up

Anyone who knows me know that I'm not a morning person. I'm pretty much the opposite of a morning person... covers-over-head bemoaning the arrival of the sun. I'll probably never be one of those people who willingly leap out of bed at 6 am to greet the day. No. Never.

That would be me.

For all intents and purposes, The Boy has followed suit, preferring to lounge in bed until 8 am (if given the opportunity), or later. He's always been a "good sleeper" - and by that I mean, sleeping when I want to sleep, especially in the morning. It's been a good run.

Which is why is was a bit surprised to discover that The Girl, my dear, sweet daughter is actually... dun dun duuuun... a morning person. *shudder* Not just a morning person... an EARLY morning person.

Now I know I have NO room to complain here. NONE. Early morning in our house is 6:00 am. For a lot of parents, this practically qualifies as mid-day. But for us, that's really frikken early. Not for my daughter! She's up and at 'em, bouncing her curly head around like it's party time. (Or, sometimes, crying and yelling and wanting one of us.)

The other thing to note about The Girl is that she's a tried-and-true Daddy's girl. Always has been - literally from day 1 she has always been comforted by Daddy and would run to him first whenever she got hurt or scared. I learned early on not to take this personally. Well okay no I didn't - I'd be all, "Dude, I carried you for nine months and pushed you out - and that was no picnic let me tell you - and this is the thanks I get?" - but eventually I just went with it. Besides it's kindof nice when a child wakes in the middle of the night and you have to shrug and say "Ehh, what can I do, she wants you!" hehehe.

This morning, 6 am came much earlier than usual. I was up late the night before, after baking treats for Treats Club at work (I love where I work... seriously, Treats Club! :)). 6 am, the familiar pitter-patter of feet and the usual whines from The Girl made me curl up, covers-over-head, hoping she would run to Daddy's side of the bed. Which she did. Ha! Victory!

Until... "Mama!" (pushing Daddy away and reaching for me) "Maaamaaa!"... Yep, she pulled the Mama Card.

Thing is, even at 6 am, The Girl is as adorable and sweet as ever. Her face is like a frikken cherub, which makes it really hard to be mad at her. And when she pulls the Mama Card, wanting ME and only ME, and being all sweet and lovey, well I melt a little. Can't fault her - I mean, I am pretty awesome. Would just be nice if she'd waited til 7 am to show me the love.

*yawn*

My hopes for my daughter

I wish a lot of things for my kids in their life... health, happiness, success. But my biggest, most important wishes are the little things:

For my daughter...

I hope she can look in the mirror every morning, as she did on this morning, and say "I have pretty hair!"

I hope she will always "go for it", and not inherit her mother's reservations, hesitations, and worry.

I hope she keeps dancing like it's her job. 

I hope my daughter never loses her spark. Girls can be so mean, and I just pray that she is resilient and doesn't let some snarky b's squash her tenacity.

I hope she always sings with her arms open and her eyes closed the way she does today.

I hope she keeps doing silly voices, making up silly songs, and making silly faces.

I hope she keeps looking at her brother with all the love and adoration in the world, the way she does now.

Even though I grumble about it at the time, I hope she keeps waking me up with a big smile and a cheery "Mummy!" at the side of my bed, showing me whatever creation she's made while waiting for the rest of us to wake up.

I hope she takes her spunk all the way to the top, of whatever mountain she chooses to climb.

I hope she always knows how full of awesome she is.

I hope she never stops calling me "Mama" when she really needs her Mama.

I hope she keeps telling those around her exactly what she wants and when.

I hope she can find someone to share her life with, who truly appreciates her goofy sense of humour, and can see when she really needs a hug. As I have.

I love you, my spunky, sweet, adorable, awesome-filled girl. I hope you always know that.

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.

Little voice

Tonight, while reading The Going to Bed Book with The Girl, she seemed fixated on the little dog who was on his way back down to bed (at last):

Staring and pointing at the dog, in her two-year-old voice, she says: "Doggie fell down. He sad... he bump his head. He crying... he say 'Daddy!', he go woof-woof, woof-woof." Hehe.

Each time I tried to turn the page, she'd want to turn back to that page to see the doggie who fell and hit his head. I finally had to explain to her that he was just resting, he was okay, and he was going to bed but he wasn't very happy about it. She seemed satisfied with that. Funny that of all the things going on in the book, she fixated on this one little dog. I love trying to figure out what she's thinking and the ways she 'interprets' the world around her - it's fascinating to me. I'm thinking she's learning about other's feelings, and empathy. Pretty neat stuff.

Happy Birthday Miss Marvelous!

Yes, it's been a whole year since little Emily came into this world. I sang "Happy Birthday" to her this morning when I got her up, and then realized it was exactly the same time of day that she was born.

Wow.

Here are a few pics from roughly a year ago... time just goes too fast. She has somehow - without my consent - gone from this little squidgy newborn to a laughing, crawling, talking little being unto herself.

Happy Birthday to my best girl.