Happy birthday to my millenium boy!

Sam is nine- holy cow!

New Camera!

I have been hauling my new camera with me since I got it last week, and taking hundreds of images, including an eagle at the beach, Hannah's birthday celebration, the sky, flowers, the kids... It's a hot, happy time in my neck of the woods.

P.S. Thanks to Silverstar, who presented me my first blogging award, at right...

Kids- all sizes

Turns out, some things are, if not universal, then at least globally cross-cultural. Our Japanese 16 y.o. student, our 13 year old, the 13 year old from across the street, and his two 16 year old Japanese students, all male, were just gathered in our student’s mini-suite, watching Mr. Bean, and giggling. Five teenage boys, 3 of them brand-new in this country, giggling over Mr. Bean. Go figure....

Somehow, in spite of Rob’s and my intermittent weariness with parenting 4 children of our own, we seem to have become the neighbourhood’s kids’ hangout. It’s kind of cool. Mostly.

Sigh.

Grin.

Faces

See those faces? Those faces are the reason I continue to draw breath.

Sometimes, they are the faces that make me want to hold my breath and count to ten; sometimes they are the faces that make my breath

blast forth with extreme force and volume.

Often, they are the faces that make me catch my breath and

drop a kiss on those downy-soft, sweet and sweaty heads.

My kids are sometimes my greatest trial.

Ultimately, they are my salvation; they make me want to be a better human.

Gifts?

I hate it when someone criticizes my kid (but I love having blog fodder).

Should we be grateful for gifts given which we do not want and wouldn’t have chosen for ourselves? The mantra is be polite, but I wonder whether this is the right message, or at least, the only message. How about the value of being true to yourself?

At after-school-care, Sam was chosen to get a reward. The rewards had been discussed by the whole group, so the children did have input as to what would be appropriate rewards for this particular project. Sam was offered a choice of 4 small toys; he didn’t like any of them. They did seem a little juvenile for his age group, but not inappropriate either. He asked if that was all there was, and was told that he did not have to take any of the offered items if he didn’t want to. “Fine. I’ll take this one”, he grumbled, and off he went. The after-school teachers thought this was uncharacteristically ungrateful behaviour from Sam, and I agree with that.

What would the “right” response have been? Absolutely, “Thanks, but no thanks is a good choice, and we will talk about this as a family. Avoiding hurting the feelings of someone who has genuinely offered you a gift is also a good idea. Living simply enough to avoid acquiring more stuff just because it exists, also seems like a good idea. As we head deeper into recession, choosing as rewards not more Stuff, but deeper Experiences, just makes sense to me. I’m all about the experience, which is what lasts on into adulthood, after all. Seldom is that true of the $5 toy, and even less so of the $2 toy.

Increasingly, I ask myself why we need to indulge in the cheap toy as an acquisition. At birthday parties, we tend to encourage the "twoonie party" idea: a two dollar coin for the child, and another for the charity of the child's choice. When we indulge at McDonald's, I am going to steer my youngest away from the Happy Meal toy. I need to school myself and steel myself not to give in to the constant demands for acquiring something whenever we are at the grocery store or drug store. I will encourage all of our children to differentiate between need and want. We don't need more "stuff" when our homes are already overflowing.

I know it's not realistic to expect my young children to be able to say "Thanks, but I didn't want the gift in the first place. If you want to honour me, please find a way which doesn't involve me having to be grateful for or turn down a cheap trinket." As I write this though, I wonder about the value in teaching a person, a child, to be grateful for any gift, no matter how trivial, and to be grateful for what we already have, because there is so much poverty and true need in the world.

I spoke to the head of the after-school program, who was able to shed some light on what had happened; she was grateful that I was seeking insight and clarification. I've blogged about it, which has given me some further clarification and insight. All is well here, but I still don’t like someone criticizing my kid.

Imp

“There was an Incident at daycare today.” These words are inclined to strike terror into the heart of even the most sanguine or phlegmatic of parents.

Rob had picked up Sydney that day, so he was the bearer of bad news to me. My heart sank- now what? Sydney is rambunctious, spirited, emotional, dramatic. The daycare is cheerful, but I worry a little about the caregivers' devotion to Sydney. It would be fantastic if there was at least one teacher at daycare who felt that Sydney was one of her favourite children. I don’t think that this is the case.

How much difference does it make? In practical terms, perhaps not much, but in my head and my heart, I am always aware that she may need a titch more understanding, nurturing, loving, and guidance than is given reflexively. Overall, this is a good experience for her, and for me, and I hope for the daycare, but I do look forward to getting her into school. One of the problems at daycare is that the kids with the more challenging behaviours get more focus, however inadvertently; the other kids, if they do not stand out in any particular way, are likely to get overlooked more easily.

I think she is more likely to stand out in a school environment. She is smart; she will be one of the eldest in the class; the expectation for behaviour will be more orderly, which will not be problematic for her; she is cute- I think she will fit in, and learn well, and will not stand out in negative ways, and may stand out in positive ways.

The incident? Minor, really. It involved a pair of scissors. (oh no) Someone cut someone else’s hair. (oh dear) “Whose hair did she cut?” (no question in my mind about who did the cutting; the consequences for our family would vary depending on the answer to this question, though) "Sarah’s". Sarah’s mother is an earth-mother type, they are also a blended family and we had just had Sarah over for 2 playdates. Sarah has very short hair already. If impishness was going to burst out of my girl, this was the best case scenario for it.

I am, however, looking forward to her having other venues for exploring and experimenting with the world. Hello kindergarten!

Happy Birthday to Sydney.

My little minx is 5 today. 

Hardly seems possible. 

I hope her daddy sees her and is appropriately proud- she's quite a girl.

Happy birthday, sweetie-pie. We love you.

A rant on mature-rated games...

These are the reasons I do not want mature-rated games in the house:

• they are not necessary
  
• there are dozens of games in the house already
  
• there is too much time spent in front of a screen by each family member as it is
  
• the mature rating means that the material is inappropriate under the age of eighteen
  
• if there are small children in the house, they may be exposed to extreme violence and language
  
• if they are excluded from the activities, that may hurt their feelings
  
• is there any research to suggest that violent video games enhance development?
  
• is there any research to suggest they can be detrimental to development?
  
• there are many more appropriate activities in which to partake- activities which might promote better physical, mental, emotional health
  
• mature-rated games are not necessary to a person’s continued well-being or health
  
• what is the trade-off?
  

We're having issues at home- can you tell?

Birth Day

Eight years ago today, I gave birth to my little boy.

When my water broke at 5 am on Friday morning, I was worried a bit about the timing. My BFF, Shannon, was arriving on Saturday morning from the other side of the country to help out and be with me. I was single, and she was going to be my labour support and take care of me and the new babe for a couple of weeks. I knew I would manage if the baby came before she did, but I wanted her there, and she wanted to be there, too.

True to form, being tardy and into dilly-dallying, I didn’t go into labour until after she arrived, 31 hours later. Fortunately my mid-wife was calm and experienced and was prepared to wait for me to get on with things in my own sweet time, so I did not need any medical intervention.

Once it got started, shortly after Shannon’s arrival, labour was fairly rapid. I was thankful to have both Shannon and Erik as my labour supporters, since they were able to assess how labour was progressing, be in contact with the mid-wife to keep her posted on my contractions, run interference with the phone and visitors. It was they who recognized me move into active labour/transition and called the mid-wife; by the time she arrived a very few minutes later, I was ready to push.

In fact, I was so ready to have the baby, that the midwife sent Erik to her van to get supplies while she called the back-up midwife (Come now!), her husband (I’ll be late for supper) and the hospital (they have to be notified so as to be on stand-by), and to continue to monitor me. As it turned out, I was a fast labourer, but a slow pusher- it took me 1.5 hours to work Sam around those bones...

Sam was born at 18:06, Saturday September 30th, 2000, needing a little whiff of oxygen to pink him up before settling in to nurse and snuggle. He weighed 3350g (3.35 kg or 7lbs 6oz, if memory serves). He was a bonny baby, who has been easy to raise and continues to be a real charmer, inside and out.

Happy birthday, Sam!

Kids 'n' Critters, from home and away

• It's gooood to be home. 
  
• Rob and I have seen a counsellor to help us normalize life in a blended family.
  
• Even work is okay.
  
• I haven't actually talked to my mother since being home.
  
• The kids are getting along beautifully these days.
  
• We are over-run with eight-legged brethren.
  
• Back to school is good; morning "rush" hour, not so much.
  
• Life is good.
  

Rob and Oliver on the shore of Lake Ontario

Linus and a good-looking sandwich in Ottawa

Oliver and Sam at the War Museum in Hamilton

Sam and his cousin applying mud "masques" at the cottage

Sydney, thrilled beyond words with a pony ride at the "Ex"

It rained so much in the month before our arrival 

that my swimming hole was a rushing torrent

Loving her first roller coaster at the CNE

Egyptian artefact at the ROM

Pentax chillin' to tunes at home

Date night at the Lagoon- heron and geese

Not sure I love ALL creatures- 

this one is now safely outside instead of in the kids' bathroom sink

(several of his cousins have been rehomed, too)

Postus Interruptus

I start so many more posts than I finish, or even attend to, and I want to be okay with that. My blog shouldn’t add a layer of obligation to my life- it’s supposed to be a helpful, joyful thing.

That said, let’s see if I can sneak some snippets of stuff into here:

•I missed my nephew’s birthday- he turned 9, and I haven’t acknowledged it in any way. I haven’t ever sent last year’s gift to him, either. I am so disorganized!

•I love my “husband”- he is a real gift in my life.

•I miss my husband- I wish I could recall more of his quirks to mind more readily. Yesterday, as Rob was leaning over the bathroom sink in shorts, no top and socks and slippers, I caught sight of his mid-section first. The body shape, posture, texture and pattern of hair, all said Willis to me- it was very disorienting to see Rob’s face on Willis- the mind is a funny creature that way. The socks and slippers were clearly characteristic of Rob, but the problem my poor, tired mind cannot solve is whatever would Willis have been wearing on his feet if it had been him? I absolutely cannot remember or picture it. And, much as I love Rob, I sometimes ache for one more hug with Willis- I love(d) him, too, and I never did get a final hug with him (lying my head on his lifeless chest in the trauma room doesn’t count).

•When I hug Rob, I get a powerful and profound feeling of “rightness” and “calmness”. We are clearly meant to be together, or at least, we clearly belong to each other. I love that a hug with Rob can often put my world to rights- how cool is that? (And Annie, just like with you and your Rob, it goes waaay beyond hugging. Note the title of this post? Bet you can figure out what interrupted this particular piece a couple of nights back... ;))

•The other day, I left Sam in the boy’s wear department, happily picking out some summer gear for himself, while Sydney and I were in the girl’s wear, a couple of aisles over. Turns out, Sam wasn’t actually paying attention to the fact that I had moved on, found himself alone, and got worried. He saw a cashier in the jewelry department, and thought about asking her for help, but was feeling a little too shy to go up to her. He took himself behind a rack of clothes, talked to himself reassuringly, then went up to her to ask for help. I was paged to pick up my “package” in the jewelry department, which I did with alacrity, and was able to greet my not-quite-grownup boy with a big hug. I’m so proud of him for overcoming his shyness and doing the right thing, and not panicking. I still believe that “free-range” (with shades of “attachment”) parenting is absolutely the best style for me, and my kids do okay with it, too, which is an added bonus.

•Sydney is a drama queen, and she is little, and the only girl in the family- this causes her issues sometimes:

•I think Girl wrote this: “The thing about recurring issues is that the better you get at spotting them, the better they get about subterfuge.  The same issues crop up constantly in our lives, in different guises, and sometimes it takes awhile to realize you’re dealing with the same old thing for the nth time.” I absolutely love this, which explains so exactly where I am in my life, and why I am talking with my therapist again. Tardiness, procrastination, avoidance, insecurity, self-doubt are constant issues, from childhood, and as I stand on the crest of my meno-pausal wave, I’d like to tame these issues a little. I’d like them to be familiar companions, rather than looming, scary monsters on the path beside me, as I walk/scamper/plod/skip down the road that is my life.

•Pretty soon, I’m gonna write my inner child a letter, as a part of the process of de-mystifying the terrors residing in my psyche. I know I can take really good care of folks, whether they be 5 or 41, two-legged or four-legged, and by writing that letter, explaining and demystifying some of the terrifying experiences of childhood, and reassuring her/myself that I can and will always be present with a calm, warm voice and a hand to hold in the dark, maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to turn the monsters in my background into pussycats at the garden gate.

•I’ll probably write a loving letter to Willis, too. His death was sudden and traumatic, if not entirely unexpected, and although I have worked through many issues and talked to him a great deal since his death, we all know how extraordinarily powerful the written word is as a way to move through emotion and come to a place of love, light and understanding.

•I’d better go get my car- they’ve changed this parking lot into a 30-minute limit, and I don’t need another ticket, do I?

The goings on, and an out-of-my-comfort-zone challenge

Rob's not been feeling well - 2 days now of being really sorta pitiful. Maybe it was the mussels, which nobody else ate, on account of their being nasty little things. Our Sunday clean up was even more necessary because "Rob the invalid" had not been doing his usual stirling job of keeping things clean and organized. We’d absolutely fall apart without that man. 

The kids (all 4 of them, plus an overnight houseguest of Sam's) were all corralled into attending to their chore chart duties - I might as well have been asking them to eat dung for the amount of protesting I got. In the end, the house got to look alright, even in the kitchen. Since the kitchen is Rob's purview, the kids complained mightily about the “extra” chore, but I managed to explain that a kitchen piled high with 2 days worth of detritus, dishes and debris was going to make supper a non-event. They all pitched in, and the kitchen looked half way decent when we left to go out for supper (as if I was actually gonna cook; I cleaned - isn’t that enough?). I left Rob wrapped in a kid’s blanket in a sorry bundle on the love seat- I think he was grateful for the reduction in volume at home. Poor guy- at least he

 seemed okay on his birthday the day before.

We did 3 birthday parties this weekend- I guess we’re into that season again. Sometimes I wish Sam wasn’t such an easy-going, likable kid; maybe we’d have to deal with fewer birthday party invitations then.

Sam’s overnight guest (because what Rob really wanted on his birthday was another child- not!) was Evan, who’s a likable kid. He and Sam do pretty well together. They met at after-school care a couple of years ago; we see less of Evan since he moved to another school. Evan's mum called me last minute to arrange a play date, which is a good way to arrange things with me, ‘cause if they’re arranged too far

 in advance, I’ll likely forget, or double book or something; in an aside, she let me know that she and her husband, Evan's dad, are separating. She says it’s mutual and amicable and that they have just fizzled out. Over the rest of the summer, they are going to take turns living in a suite, alternating with living in the house with the kids. I'm shocked and saddened about the whole turn of events- they seemed like a particularly “together” couple- enjoying each other’s company, doing interesting things together. I am having trouble wrapping my head around the idea that two people who are still “good friends” would choose to split up- I just don’t get it. I'm sure there’s more to the story, and it’s not my place to judge, and if I ever have a relationship (other than with Pentax) that lasts more than 3.5 years, maybe I’ll understand, too. but still...

Sunday's birthday party was for Jacob. His mum Carol is a beautiful person, inside and out. She’s one of my favourite people. Jacob's dad is also gorgeous, so Jacob and his younger sister are gorgeous kids, too. Tragedy struck this family when Jacob was 10 months old. His dad was a semi-pro soccer player, and while leaping up to head the ball, was headed in the head by an opponent. Brain injury ensued, and at points during his subsequent hospitalization, he wasn’t expected to survive. He has survived, and in some ways has made a miraculous recovery, but he is definitely brain-injured. Carol had been finding her husband’s increasingly erratic and abusive behaviour more and more difficult to deal with, and she could see how damaging the abuse was for the kids. Eventually, this past winter, she made the heart-breaking decision to have her husband moved back to his mother’s house, which has been viewed as a betrayal of sorts by most of his family. Apparently, life is less stressful at home, but Carol still struggles with the guilt, logistics and ongoing trauma of the original injury, and how it has brought such a brutal disruption to all their lives. I have the barest glimmer of how painful her life has been, and I wish I could do more for her. She was first in line with support when Willis died, and I feel a kinship with her, in a way, and I love her and her kids, and her husband, too, although I don’t know him well. Carol did okay at the birthday party- gracious and gentle, as always. She, like a widow, is coming from a place not so much of “you’re so strong and brave”, but of sheer necessity. She absolutely has no choice but to keep her ship afloat, because her kids are on that ship. Necessity doesn’t preclude desperation, and I see that in her, too. I am going to have to challenge myself to make an absolute commitment to have her kids out here soon, so she can get some down time of some sort.

Maybe this’ll be my opportunity to push myself out of my comfort zone: I really do avoid making and keeping commitments. I absolutely “fly by the seat of my pants” in social situations, household habits, parenting, at work. It’s easier, more familiar, more comfortable this way. Rob is astonishingly regular. I doubt that natural disaster (and certainly not a disaster of a wife) could put him off his regular routine. This is both inspirational and annoying. Alright, there it is, out there in public: my goal for the next week(?) (maybe a day; I’m scared already about this idea) is to make commitments and stick to them, and to make and stick to a routine. Specifically, how about if I get up on time for the rest of the week, get out of the house on time, get Sam to school on time and make a date with Carol to have her kids over here- all this week. That seems doable to me. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Here’s something a little more light-hearted to finish up with:


My kids are so totally adorable!










Some Pampas Grass, up close:





Can you identify this plant?





My sweetie, being hunky, adorable and capable- I do love this man!



This post has rambled all over the place, hasn't it? It rambled kind of unexpectedly into a post I'm gonna use for Julie Pippert's Hump Day Hmm- Comfort Zone. Writing can be such a funny thing.

Fort Rodd Hill and Beacon Hill Park Petting Zoo

These are from March 8th and 9th:

Fort Rodd Hill and Fisgard Lighthouse...




Beacon Hill Park Petting Zoo...




The goat "stampede" at the end of the day...





Peacocks and ducks...











My online friends brag about their Shetland Sheep...



Three of our kids...