January’s ass was well kicked. I worked out every day, I was getting projects done around the house, staying on top of my work-work, and feeling pretty good about myself.  It was so good that I was even staying on top of sleep, was starting to feel rested. Things were shaping up to close the door on the blahs and worse of the last two plus years.

Then we went on vacation.  The trip itself was not the problem, good times were had and it was generally deemed to be a success. There were niggling little things, though.  I had some trouble sleeping, as did Goose (pretty sure there is a correlation there somewhere).  We had fun, but it is work to be outside of your home with the little people, and that can be tiring.  We were slightly delayed coming home, but it was enough to put all of our schedules slightly off.  Then there was the plague.  The lils caught it at the resort, and it lingered for a week.  Bad enough that they were not only home with me, but were actively miserable.  Willy was super busy at work that week, so I had to take the time off and I then caught a less severe version of the plague.  The dominoes fell.

Now I can’t get back on track.  There are so many things that I need to be doing, but can’t.  So behind on all the things that I really want to be doing, but have no time.  I get paralyzed by indecision, because I can no longer prioritize, and then get nothing accomplished.  It’s driving me batty.  I am going for a couple of days this weekend.  I hope it fixes me.

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Dear Woo

I can’t believe that you are four today. It seems like just yesterday that you were born. You have grown into such a fabulous little guy. Watching you grow and develop over the last year has been so wonderful. Every time I turn around you have mastered a new skill, or gone on a new adventure. I love experiencing it all with you.

My little monkey, you are full of beans all the time. This sometimes gets you into trouble, but your charm and wit have saved you from any punishment on many an occasion. Most of your escapades secretly make me laugh. I love how you are bringing Goose under your wing as your sidekick and partner in crime. Your dad and I love to watch the relationship that you have, and see how much you enjoy being with her, even if it means that our lives are more chaotic, and that you have someone to blame for your hijinx.

This past year you mastered your bike and skating on your own, and both have made you very happy. You either want to be riding or gliding at all times. You are becoming more comfortable with swimming, but are still a little hesitant. You even made peace with the ocean this year, for a fleeting second or two. You also started to show preference for your extra-curricular activities, letting us know what you like to do, and what you don’t like. Taking pictures and cooking are two of my favourite things, and I am so glad that you like to do this with me. Your contribution makes them all the more enjoyable.

You now stand 42.5 inches tall, and weigh 46 pounds. We no longer measure the number of words that you say, but the number of words that you can read! I can no longer count the words that you read, as you add many new ones each day. You have a thirst for knowledge that challenges me to help you find the answers to your endless questions. I love to learn with you and watch your world expand.

To my curious and thoughtful little boy, I wish you the happiest fourth birthday! Love you very much,
mama

third birthday

walking at Hog’s Back

showing Goosie the tulips

first canoe ride

riding your bike

kayaking!

reading with Goose

reading with Daddy

indoor hockey

beach fun

puckhandling

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We live in a neighbourhood that is a mix of elderly people, middle-aged people and young families. It’s a lovely old neighbourhood with big mature trees and wide streets. When the neighbourhood was built all of the houses were on septic, so we are blessed with larger than average lots. Double lots mean that there is plenty of room for a double laneway, and most houses have them. Our house has a double laneway, which means that we get our fair share of snow in the winter.

We are in the minority in the neighbourhood, in that we choose to shovel ourselves. This choice is partly for the environment, partly to be frugal, and partly for the exercise. I know that there are all sorts of health risks associated with shovelling, but we are careful and reckless like that. Historically we have taken turns with the shovelling. Keeping track of this between snowfalls is hard to remember, so we assign winters. That means that if it is your turn to shovel, it is your turn for the entire winter. You don’t forget who’s turn it is in the fall if you had to shovel the entire preceding winter. Remember the winter of 2007-2008 where we got 400 billion centimeters of snow? That was my winter, and you can bet that I remembered the following year.

Today, I REALLY regretted that we decided on this approach.

The snow that fell last night and then got rained on ALL day today is REALLY heavy. Even though it is Willy’s year to shovel, I felt bad sitting on the chesterfield while it got wetter and wetter. I finally guilted myself into going out and grabbed the shovel. It was tough to move and took much longer than a regular clear. As I shovelled and shovelled, the neighbour’s Mr. Plow came by to do their laneway. In the three minutes that it took, I hoped that he would do mine too, out of the kindness of his heart. He didn’t and I kept going.

He passed by three more times, knowing that the plows were in my ‘hood, waiting to clear the dump for my neighbour. Each time I hoped a little bit more, and each time he drove by. I knew he didn’t have to help me, and that I should finish the job, even though I wanted to go inside and let Willy finish when he got home, it being his year to shovel after all. He didn’t and I kept going until it was done.

I went to gather the assortment of shovels from the end of the laneway and noticed the plow heading towards me. Perfect timing. Even though it’s Willy’s year to shovel and I was tired, I couldn’t leave it. So I watched as he collected all of that snow from in front of my neighbour’s house and in front of mine, then dumped it at the bottom of my drive. The driver gave me the “I’m sorry shrug” and I started clearing it. Mr. Plow came by, his work, and headed up the street away from me. With my last hope dashed, I kept going. It was then that I heard the now familiar rumble coming back towards me. I looked up to see the blade of his truck poised to clear the mess. I stepped back and in one sweep it was on the lawn. He backed up and said “that should help” and drove away as I quickly thanked him!  His nice gesture made me forget that I wasn’t supposed to be shoveling today, and kinda glad I did!

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My lils are not the most gracefully that you will meet.  They come by it honestly, with a mama that is probably one of the most uncoordinated people around.  That, coupled with their slightly larger than average cranium size, means that we get more than our fair share of head injuries, some of them even requiring trips to the  hospital.  Thankfully this is only one each, so far.

In the six months that followed each of them getting mobile, I don’t think that there exists a picture where they don’t have a bruise or six on their foreheads.  Each step forward led to a fall forward, head first.  We got pretty nonchalant about the woundings, probably because we have the head injury checklist from the hospital memorized.

The last month has been particularly hard on Goose, and it is really starting to get to me.  She has discovered that it is way more fun if she throws caution to the wind, and throws herself at any obstacle that she faces.  Surprisingly, the toughest obstacle has been our kitchen table, where she has thrown herself headfirst off of the chairs four times in the last three months.  I know that some amount of falling on their heads is normal for the little peeps, but this is becoming a habit.  Two of these falls have been from pushing her booster seat backwards, leading to her hitting the cupboards HARD as she hits the floor.  The latest had me waking her every couple of hours, asking her all sorts of crazy questions, to which she started supplying crazy answers (did you know her brother’s name is Bert? I guess that makes her Ernie!).

I am so worried that every thing she does will lead to another fall, and have basically got her wrapped in bubble wrap.  I really need just a couple of days without any major or minor traumas. Is that too much to ask? This mama is going gray FAST.

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“Do you wanna know what I just did?”

It’s not the phrase that any parent wants to hear, and it certainly wasn’t what I wanted to be awakened with last Friday morning.  Woo was so happy and proud though, that I calmly asked what it was, instead of overreacting.  “I put the new bag in the garbage can.  All by myself!” I smiled and told him how great that was, and how I appreciated it and he ran off to play with Goose.  About a minute later he was back, this time to Willy’s side of the bed.  The conversation was exactly the same, excitement followed by praise.  There was a punchline this time, Woo asked for a jelly bean as a reward.

We never don’t often reward* our lils with candy, but the jelly beans have a history.  They are Woo’s reward for staying dry overnight.  In a moment when I thought that I would never be through with diapers I had asked him what he thought would help him stay dry/get up in the night.  He said jelly beans and it worked for a couple of nights in a row at first.  Now we are hit and miss, but still offer the jelly beans as a treat when it happens.  I guess he figured this was worthy,  and offered it up.  Willy gave some form of non-committal response and we headed down to breakfast.

It was after I got some coffee into me that I had a revelation.  Woo had done a chore.  He even sought a reward for it.  We have officially moved into allowance territory!!  I immediately started to talk it up to Woo, and we quickly agreed on the ground rules. There will be a chart that lists the chores that Woo can do to help out around the house, each time he does something he can mark it off, and at the end of the week we will pay him for each chore completed.  He is so keen, even though he has never had money of his own.  We’re not even sure he would want to spend it.  The best part is the rate that we agreed on – five cents per chore!

I haven’t created the chart yet, but after supper tonight Woo went to feed @thecat.  As he finished filling her bowl he looked at me and asked if this counted as a chore.  I am going to like this!

*they also get Smarties with medicine, because medicine is rotten and Smarties are YUMMY!*

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As I sat in a courtroom today, I had some time to reflect on bravery.  I was there to support a friend as he read his victim impact statement at a sentencing hearing.  It was a fraud case, and the offender was merciless as she preyed on my friend, exploited his vulnerabilities, and defrauded him of his life savings.

I sat listening to him detail the harm, and was struck by what a courageous act it was, telling the court and all those present exactly what she had done to him, and the resulting harms.  She not only stole a significant amount of money from him, her actions had serious ramifications on his career and emotional health, and caused lasting fractures in his relationships with some family and friends. Yet he persevered, reporting the crimes to the police, even though he was ashamed that they had happened, testifying at trial despite the vast amount of time that he had to take off work and the obvious toll it had taken on him mentally and physically, and he faced her today to tell her exactly how she had hurt him.

His motivation for doing this was not to ensure that she got a harsh sentence, but to ensure that the courts and the public were made aware of how much her crime affected him, and to act as a warning so that no one else has to suffer in the same way.  This is why he told his story in the courts, and then retold it for the reporters that were covering it.  So when a reporter asked me for an on camera interview about the case I didn’t hesitate, even though I don’t often give interviews and am not entirely comfortable doing so.  This interview was not because I was being brave, but because he had been, and I wanted to be able to tell how impressed I was with his bravery.

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It’s Woo’s favourite word these days, his go to response when he doesn’t hear us, doesn’t understand, or just wants to acknowledge that we spoke to him. “What.  What? What!” I hear it more and more each day and have become acutely aware that it is not a passing phase.  Using more appropriate phrases as an example has not been enough, and I’ve been working on actively correcting him, offering alternatives like pardon me, yes, or can you please repeat that, but they haven’t taken hold.

It is not pleasant for me to be constantly reminding him not to  say it.  I get sick of hearing it, so I can only imagine how the rest of the family feels.  I am afraid this will be the language quirk that sticks, because it is the one that bugs me so.  There has got to be a better way to teach him not to do it, I just haven’t figured it out.

I was at a loss for where this was coming from.  Willy doesn’t say it, and I don’t rarely say it, and we both try our best to use polite alternatives to set an example.  I would assume that he senses my displeasure and plays on that, but he does it without thinking and when speaking to others.  Then Woo’s best bud came over for an afternoon on the weekend and it all became clear. He said “what” just the same way, but after everything that was said to him, regardless of whether he heard/understood.  My head exploded.

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Tonight, I finally broke down and gave the lils a bath.  I was going to wait until Willy returned tomorrow and let him bathe them, as is my usual when he is away.  Of course, this after leading him to believe that I had washed them at least once in the time that he was gone (swimming counts, right?).  Sadly, I was foiled by bath-preventing plans for the next three nights and I had to do it.

They were mid-splashfest when the phone rang.  Willy is travelling tonight, and the weather has been sketchy for his route home, so I answered it, expecting him to be calling with a delay.  It was a telemarketer calling about lawn care.  I had a vague recollection of last year telling this company that they could check back with me again this year, so I let him give his pitch, despite the fact that he could not get my name right.*

After his intro I let him know that I weed my grass by hand, and don’t plan on changing this. I don’t want to use chemicals, as I have lil people who roll around on the grass, and I actually enjoy weeding, it’s kinda therapeutic.  He kept insisting that this was bad, and trying to sell me on chemical and organic programs.  He was getting pushy so I started to ask to be put on their do not call list.  Then he told me that he needed to speak to my husband to do that.

At this point I clarified what I had heard, then I lost it a little, letting him know that it was bullsh*t, and exactly why it was.  He tried to give me an excuse as to why it was OK, but I shot that down too.  I am still kinda flabbergasted and saddened by his attitude, and incredulous reaction to my upset.  I did take his name, and will let the company know this new reason why they will not be getting my business.  But mostly I am sad that it got me so upset within earshot of the lils.  They were pretty oblivious in the tub, but I wish I had been more controlled.

*this is my test for determining whether I will give a company my money. Generally, if they cannot figure out that I am Mrs. Lilbunnyrabbitz, not Mrs. Little, Bunnyrabbitz, Rabbitz-Bunny-Lil, I am unlikely to trust the ability to deliver a good or service.

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*update at bottom*

It’s kindness week in Ottawa, and originally I was going to write about the things that we do with the lils to ensure that kindness becomes a way of life for them, and how to make kindness a habit that they don’t have to think about.  We really try to do this by example all the time, but this week offers a chance to renew those efforts and look for new and continuing acts of kindness.

Then a couple of weeks ago a friend, Lara, suggested that a group of people get together and give blood during kindness week.  I was intrigued and tempted, but didn’t commit.  Although I have always wanted to give blood, I am deathly afraid of needles.   I become the biggest baby in the world at the prospect of an injection, let alone a simple blood test.  The thought of giving blood that is measured in pints makes me feel ill. It’s irrational, but it is what it is.

A few days went by after the initial call, and I could not stop thinking about giving blood.  It hasn’t happened to date, but there is always the chance that someone in my family will need to use donated blood at some point in their life. I am not planning on this, I just know that it is a possibility.  Is it right that I don’t even try to give blood?  That I sit back and feel it’s OK to say no, just because I am scared?

This week Lara made a new call for donors.  She’d organized a time this evening for us to go, and promised that she would hold my hand through the process.  I said yes.  This is a monumental step for me, and I admit that I am very nervous and a little nauseous right now. The truth is that I won’t know how hard it is until I try.  It may be so built up in my mind and really not that big a deal.  If it’s not for me, at least I will have tried, and hopefully done it once.  I just hope that I don’t crush Lara’s hand in the process.

UPDATE: I was successful!  The entire process was nowhere near as bad as I had built it up to be.  When we arrived, I let them know that it was my first time and I was VERY scared.  They were very good to me, answering all of my questions, keeping me distracted through the process, and not laughing too much at the fact that I kept my eyes closed for almost the entire time, even though they had covered my arm.  This success despite the fact that there was no room for Lara to hold my hand!! We learned an added bonus trivia bit too – donating blood burns over 600 calories.  So thanks for all your kind words and support, especially to Lara and Ron.  I promise not to be such a baby next time!

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Goose’s move into her twin bed this week has been going really well. She’s always loved to sleep, and this apparently wins, over her sense of adventure.  If naps, of the lack there of, are any indication, this may change when it is still light enough to see in her room at bedtime.  Until that happens, I fully expect that she will dive right into bed at the end of the day.

Mornings have been a pleasant surprise.  She is sleeping better, and barely waking before we pop our head in her room.  We had installed a gate on her door to prevent nocturnal wanderings, but she hasn’t budged from the bed if she wakes in the night, and waits happily in the morning.

That all changed this morning.  Woo was up first, and I expected him to  come to our bed as he does every morning.  Instead, he stopped at Goose’s door to tell her that it was time for cuddles.  She jumped out of bed and asked him to let her out of the room*.  He took the time to show her how to open the gate and let herself out, and I prepared to have two monkeys climb into bed with us.

They didn’t come. I heard them wander away from us, and started to wonder what they could get into, and whether I had to get up. They went to Woo’s room, and I heard him ask her if she wanted to come into his bed and cuddle.  “Yes, I DO want to cuddle”, she said, and I heard the rustling of two lil peeps settling in to bed.  They stayed there happily until I could no longer stay away and crept to the room.  I was allowed to give them each a kiss, and then asked to leave, as this was their cuddle time.

*for some reason, Goose has had no interest in moving her gate, which leans against the frame.  She stands patiently on either side to be let in or out of the room*

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