Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #12

Tags

cooking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, humour, parenting, spring cleaning, teenagers

Dear Diary – Spring is officially here, which supposedly means it’s time to tackle dreaded Spring cleaning (and I can’t say “I’m too busy” during quarantine )! So I pulled out boxes from under my bed and exterminated some dust bunnies. I sorted through a box of odds and ends and found some miscellaneous photos. Most were tossed out, but one out-take made me laugh out loud.

I had asked the photographer at my wedding to do a large family group shot including Big Guy, Hubby, my parents, brother and sister-in-law, grandparents, aunts, uncles and first cousins. I don’t know who took this snap but bless them!

Yup! That’s my mom giving my dad the ol’ bunny ears…

There’s one in every crowd!

Dear Diary – Complaining about my covid weight is like someone complaining about a politician when they didn’t vote. Especially when I’m inhaling goodies. So, I’ve been trying to find healthier experiments options. This week I tried eggplant parmigiana. It was much more labour intensive than I anticipated considering it’s 3 basic ingredients: eggplant, sauce and cheese. I ended up with such a pile of dishes: 2 colanders (for salting and draining the eggplant), 2 saucepans (because the first one was way too small), 3 bowls, a frying pan and a casserole dish (to bread, fry and store the eggplant), 1 dish to bake, and all the assorted utensils to cut, measure and grate. While it turned out beautifully, there was one problem: it turns out I don’t like eggplant.

My hobbies include eating and complaining that I’m fat

Yesterday I made a chicken pie from scratch. I also created another mess, albeit smaller than Monday’s mess.

But unlike the eggplant, this I liked! I mean, what’s not to like about butter and lard… Before you condemn me for not eating healthier, it did have vegetables inside.

Dear Diary – I’ve started sleeping with the new mouth guard. It won’t help me win any beauty contests. It takes me forever to get to sleep because it gives me a headache and it tastes slightly of perfume. Also, I am afraid of choking and drowning on my spit in my sleep. When I said I wanted to die peacefully in my sleep, this isn’t quite what I had in mind.

Dear Diary – This weekend I get to meet the physical terrorist therapist for physical torture therapy on my shoulder, now that I’ve been shot! Hubby went to her a few months ago. I take comfort in the fact that she’s shorter than me. It means maybe I can take her on. Put ’em up!

Dear Diary – Hubby and I have been pvr-ing and binge watching the Great British Baking Show. We’ve watched some of the same seasons more than once. Partly because we don’t remember who wins.

When did our interests switch from action adventure to cooking?

I suppose both genres could have explosions….and steamy buns.

There are other problems with watching so many British shows:

1. It makes me want to bake.
2. The voice in my head develops a British accent.
3. Hubby and I start using phrases out loud, in a British accent, which really annoys Little Guy.

I guess that last one really isn’t a problem. 😉

Dear child – I plan to give you love, nurturing, and just enough dysfunction to be funny. Love Mom

Dear Child

Tags

children, cleaning, home, parenting

Dear child,

I know scrubbing the toilet is “gross”, (believe me, I know), but no more gross than the “gift” you left me in your rush to get back to your video game. Just be thankful that I had cleaned the toilet on the weekend (especially after your brother threw up), and that we haven’t had “chili night” in a long time.

I could have been worse. When your brother developed a habit of “picking and flicking” (I think he was bored) and I got sick of cleaning up after him, I made him clean the whole bathroom. Armed with a toilet brush, a sponge, and a toothbrush. I’m talking the tub, sink and toilet. The taps. The floor. The walls. Even the light fixture. There was no merciful pre-cleaning done for his benefit. We may have even had chili that week (Dad did all the cooking at the time). I don’t remember. I just know it cured the habit.

What you choose to do (or need to do) in the bathroom is your business (unless it involves drugs or a girl).

Bathroom Art, circa 2011

Life is messy and full of distractions. But heed this warning: if I am assaulted by any more ” O Henry bars”, you will be scrubbing much more than the porcelain, and I will feed your father chili first.

Love Mom

That which does not kill us makes us stronger. – Friedrich Nietzsche

Happy Wednesday!

The Annual “Winter” Concert

Tags

"I have failed as a mother", Christmas, humour, parenting

We didn’t go to the school’s “Winter Wonderland” concert this year.

Some of you are thinking…

But honestly…we avoided death. Or at least jail time. I’ve only spawned two children, but with such a large gap, no concerts ever overlapped. There was no doubling up or Sophie’s choice (i.e., missing one kid’s concert in favour of another), and I never earned a”mother of the year” award for having endured the endless hours of practice leading up to that one enchanted night of hell.  Before you start egging my house, let’s review…

Every year the performances progress from the lower grades upward. That means, the older your child is, the longer you have to nurse a migraine in the dark. Everyone loves the little cherubs…little chubby hands waving enthusiastically at anyone who will wave back, the one kid melting in a sweater vest with his finger up his nose. Why can’t they mix it up a little?

Every group has the same type of performers: The Frozen Ghost – pasty white and scared stiff; The Over-Dresser – ruffled and bejewelled like Beyonce; The Super Lung – also Beyonce but usually off key; The choreographer – knows all the moves, strangely reminiscent of Beyonce; or the Unenthusiastic Lip Syncher – who is visibly dying on the inside.

Every  year we hear the typical non-religious songs: Here comes Santa Claus, I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus (like that one isn’t just a bit scandalous), or Frosty the Snowman…or I think that’s what they are… Concerts are like a Christmas game show – Name That Tune – but there are NO winners!

Every band sounds the same. The woodwinds sound less like dainty tinkling notes, and more like cats being murdered, and the drummers are always half a beat behind. And unless it is your child playing a recorder, it’s not entertainment. It’s torture. (Admit it – you’re nodding your head right now. I’m not wrong).

I will admit – parents can be entertaining to watch, especially the ones whose children just stand there gawking alongside their classmates on stage, doing absolutely nothing, while their parents over exaggerate the hand movements while enunciating all the words. These parents have obviously spent hours preparing for this big life changing moment in their kids’ lives and they are going to support them whether or not the sun is coming out tomorrow.

Then there are the other “stage” parents.  When Little Guy was in Grade 1, I attended the afternoon concert, arriving early to sit in the front row. By the second song, the parents armed with tablets and video cameras had mobbed the stage. Children were wild-eyed, with fear. I think I saw the kid with his finger up his nose, flicking furiously as he backed away from the crowd. A teacher finally threatened to cancel the concert if parents didn’t sit down. By then I had 6 rows of parents in front of me, and it was only a 4’ gap to that first sobbing child. Most parents backed off, but I still didn’t see the concert, as the die-hards stood for the remainder of the concert with their devices over their heads. It was disgusting!

So no, we didn’t attend the Winter Concert for the reasons above. And also because he wasn’t in it. He isn’t in the band and once they hit a certain grade, they’re not “cute” anymore. But…

…I’ve heard rumours that there’s a Spring Concert in the works. Little Guy isn’t in the band but his class is learning “Tomorrow” from Annie, for some demonic purpose. Little Guy plays the flute. He’s been practicing a lot. My favourite part is the “seven bars of heaven” in which Little Guy doesn’t play at all. He just counts…it’s an epic silence, before he breaks into the final refrain of “tomorrow, tomorrow”…

…and before I know it, the concert could be tomorrow. There will be crying and gnashing of teeth, and they won’t all be mine. Unless Hubby can fake death, he’s coming too. We can discover some new ways to entertain ourselves to make it less brutal more bearable (we did last time). Here’s hoping that 2018 will be my year to win a “mother of the year” award.

 

 

On a Jet Plane

Tags

children, faith, family, parenting

When Big Guy was 2, he used to run after me with his arms outstretched, pumping as fast as he could on his little chubby little legs, and calling “Wait me! Wait me!” Today I feel like a 2-year old. Today he’s leaving on a jet plane for England  – partly for vacation and partly as his friend’s escort to a wedding (he’s that kind of sweet)! And I’m excited for him. Excited for the adventure he’s embarking upon but… if I’m completely honest, I’m also a little terrified.

It’s a big, big world and I’ve invested my heart and soul into keeping him safe. I’ve adjusted to him spreading his wings, living his own life…but I’ve been blessed to still have him close enough to visit often…usually with dirty laundry.  England is so far away and it’s been kinda crazy there of late…what if something bad happens! I can’t drive there in a couple of hours. In fact, the thought of hopping a plane in an emergency is more adventure than I can handle. But I would do it. If he needed me to do it!

I know he’s an adult! I know he’ll be fine! I also know the next well-meaning person to tell me these things is going to get socked “right in the kisser”!

www.flickr.com-Mark Anderson

I know these things. I believe these things. But he’s my baby! Not yours. Mine! He’s my surprise baby! He blew apart my adolescent plans and set my life on a different course. For a while there, it felt like us against the world. We’ve cheered each other on (he even offered to bury me in the woods if I didn’t survive our Mud Hero run). In many ways, we grew up together and words simply can’t explain how very precious he is, and how much I love him.

I hope he knows it.

That’s the problem with “good-byes” and “see you soons”. Your whole focus goes into the preparation and the planning. You focus on savouring the joy in the time you’re together. And suddenly, it’s time to go!

I’ve been emotional all week. It’s ridiculous, I know! Believe me, I know!! I’ve chided myself more times than the number of chocolate chips in a really big cookie. I think in part, there have been a lot of changes in the last few years, and I am missing a lot of people. I miss my grandparents who have passed away. I miss my friend who has moved away. And I miss my kids as little people. I miss those good days when we played hard and laughed often in a smaller and safer world. I miss their weight and warmth as they fell asleep cocooned in the safety of my arms. Time marches on.

All my bags are packed; I’m ready to go… ‘Cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane.
– John Denver

His bags are packed by the door (including new socks and underwear!). There’s already too much to say and no time left. So at 8:30 this evening, I will wave at the sky from the window. I will pray without ceasing. And when he gets home, I want to hear all about his adventure.

I really do hope he has the time of his life!

D is for…Diapers & Driving Lessons

Tags

children, family, humour, parenting

Diapers and Driving Lessons…at the same time. That had certainly not been “the plan”. The “plan” had been university and law school. The “plan” had been a career, a husband, and a little house with a white picket fence before kids. I was a “good girl”, a straight-A student, a high-achiever…and I was going places. But at the end of Grade 10 at barely 16, I found out I was pregnant. The “plan” was shot to pieces.

So I weighed my options, developed a new “plan”, and started a great adventure instead. Instead of university, I did 2 college degrees, so I could get a job to support us. My parents were a wonderful support and we were happy together, but I didn’t want to live with them forever. Hubby entered the picture when Big Guy was 4; we were married when he was 6, and we adopted him (just in case there’s any question, Big Guy is mine x2). The house came later…a semi-detached “retro” look with a car port and a persistent problem with the plumbing. No picket fence.

Fast-forward 10 years when we were ready to expand our family. Where Big Guy was an astonishingly fast surprise, Little Guy was an incredibly long wait, one I despaired that would go on forever. And so…Diapers and Driving lessons. I’d slap a clean diaper on Little Guy, strap him in the car seat in the back, and we’d take Big Guy driving (secretly, I sometimes wished I had a clean diaper on too)!

Big Guy was the same age I was when he was born – 16! But there are advantages to a 16 year difference between siblings:

1. Instant Babysitter/Assistant: We never took advantage of him, but sometimes we needed that extra pair of hands. Like the one time I was crying louder than the crying baby and I handed him off to Big Guy, and stepped outside to sob for awhile. Or the time we had to tackle a Defcon5 poopy diaper…or simply to savour a rare moment in the bathroom…alone!
2. Effective Birth Control: At no age does any child want to imagine what their parents were doing behind closed doors, and here was the fruit of our activity. (I may never be a grandmother as a result)!
3. Greater Respect for Mom: It may have only been a brief pause, but it did give him pause when I reminded him that “I was your age when you were born…and you didn’t sleep through the night until you were 2, and I was still in school”!
4. Increase sociability: Big Guy had to get out of the house to avoid the screaming and crying. Sometimes it was the baby; I tried to keep it down!
5. No fighting over toys, friends, or who looked at who first.
6. Teaching responsible driving: Not only did he have me in the car watching his every move (and wearing a hole in the passenger floor where there should have been a brake pedal), but he had this precious baby staring at him in the rearview mirror.
7. We were mistaken for a couple: Big Guy wasn’t impressed, but if someone wants to assume I’m in my 20s, glory be!
8. Daddy-training without the responsibility: Big Guy can diaper without getting peed on, bathe without wearing all the bubbles, dress a toddler on the run, and almost reason with a screaming child. He knows how to read stories and cuddle a sleepy child. He also knows how many adults it takes to clean up a child with explosive poop (the answer is 3)! But he never had to worry about fevers at 3 a.m., fixing lunch, or the endless pile of dirty laundry.
9. Toys & Technology: Big Guy is great at unscrewing nano-screws to change batteries and getting us through the tough levels in video games. He has also perfected the art of dismantling toys screwed, taped or tied into stiff cardboard boxes with plastic twist ties so tightly that anything short of an apocalyptic explosion would set the toy free.
10. Role-model: Even though he was old enough to mete out discipline, we encouraged Big Guy to just be the “cool big brother”! Of course, I never mind when he tells Little Guy “don’t talk back to your mother” (wink, wink)

Since Little Guy first came home from the hospital, Big Guy has been right there! I love watching my boys playing together. Big Guy is 27 and has been out on his own for a few years in another city. Thankfully he visits often. And once in awhile, Little Guy & I visit him for a “sleep over” at his place. It’s like camping…in a very scary jungle.

The “plan” in high school was a good plan. The adventure has been better, even if it involved Diapers and Driving Lessons!

Little White Lies

Tags

children, family, humour, little white lies, parenting

Like most parents, I’m guilty of telling some little white lies, but I’m not here to debate the ethics of those little white lies. This is a safe, judgment-free space. That being said, my most common lies are:

•  “Maybe later” – Code for: No;
• “We’ll see” – Code for: Probably No; and,
• “We can always come back another day” – Code for: Probably (most definitely) not any time soon.

Kids catch on fast! They also catch on to:

• “I have x-ray vision – I can see through doors”;
• “I have eyes in the back of my head”; and,
• “When the ice cream truck plays music, it means it’s out of ice cream”.

I have intentionally never used:

• “It won’t hurt that much”;
• “This shouldn’t take long”; or
• “Santa’s watching you”!

Those lies can’t be blurred. Needles hurt! Appointments run late. And Santa?

“He knows when you are sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. He knows when you’ve been good or bad, so be good for goodness sake!”

Does anyone else find that creepy? And now they’ve added –

Second, Santa Clause was a sore point between Hubby & I. I loved the aura of magic and wonder it brought as a kid. I do remember feeling 2 things when I found out Santa wasn’t real: 1) disappointment; and 2) appreciation for my parents. While our “best” gift came from them, they still let an imaginary figure take credit for bringing us joy on Christmas morning. Hubby, on the other hand, didn’t grow up with Santa. He has a deep appreciation for his parents’ generosity, but he’s pretty sure he would have felt betrayed by the lie that “Santa is real”. [On a side note, my brother says that as long as Santa brings stuff, he’ll “believe!”]

The other day, I heard the survey results of the most recent list of top 5 most common white lies parents tell…

5. Pretending to call the police because they did something bad.

I have never used this, but my Dad did once when I went out with a girlfriend one evening, and we “disappeared” for several hours. After being royally chewed out, my Dad dialed the local police station and told me to tell them who I was and that I was safely home. I did! At the time, I believed my Dad really had called the police. Now I’m pretty sure he didn’t, but the officer played along brilliantly. I was 15.

It was almost as terrifying as the time my Dad “called the hospital” because I bit into the centre hole of my doughnut… I sobbed inconsolably and my Dad got chewed out! I was 5.

 

4. Pretending you didn’t eat their candy or other food.

Guilty. Also guilty of hiding food. Once in my bra. It melted…

 

3. Saying you have to leave somewhere like a playground because it’s closing . . . even though it’s really not.

Not guilty but secretly wish I had thought of this!

 

2. Lying to your friends about your parenting style: “Oh yeah, we totally limit screen time too.”

Not guilty. We’re not coordinated enough as parents to pull it off.

1. Telling your kids that an annoying toy is lost . . . when you really got rid of it.

Not guilty…BUT hiding said annoying toy (and making a mental note to buy the offending gift-giver an annoying toy to their child) and saying I don’t know where it is – Guilty!

It’s possible my children will one day use some of these little white lies against me in a therapy session. After all, aren’t I to blame for every poor choice my little darlings make? But you? Your kids will be ok because you’re an awesome parent!

I’m lying.

Happy Weekend!

http://www.pinterest.com/pin/399061216961130192/

 

10 Minute Monday: Let’s Talk

Tags

10 minutes mondays, children, family, life, parenting

It was my Mom who pointed out the irony last week, during an emergency mid-week telephone conference Wednesday afternoon. In Monday’s post, I made a comparison – life with kids is like riding a roller coaster. I was pretty excited about it…until Tuesday afternoon when the seat dropped out from beneath me and everything sped out of control. When I crawled into bed that night, still physically and mentally shaken,  I knew an onslaught of nightmarish what-ifs waited for me. A week later, I’m still fighting to hold them at bay.

I can’t say a lot – part of my way of staying sane. But I can say this – if you’re a parent, talk to your kids. Even if you already have. Even if they appear to have it all together. Even if they roll their eyes at you. Again.

I know we want to protect our children from bad things and bad people. But we also have to prepare them, because bad things happen on the walk to school. Bad people lurk in your neighbourhood. Decisions have to be made when there isn’t time to think through the options or the consequences. If we lived in an ideal world, we could let them be carefree kids longer, but we don’t live in an ideal world.

January, it seems, has been a series of roller coaster rides with Little Guy, and with each ride, has come a series of conversations.

We’ve talked about depression and suicide – how to support your friends and how to advocate on their behalf. Someone I told this to commented that “he’s only in Grade 6”. When I was in Grade 6, I noticed a girl by herself at recess. I sensed I should talk to her, but I was shy. I did it anyway and she became my best friend. Two years later, she told me how she had planned to kill herself that week.  Every detail was in place. So yeah…he’s in Grade 6, but we started this conversation years ago. We’ve also talked how to ask for help should he ever feel overwhelmed or hopeless.

We’ve talked about peer pressure – how to recognize it and how to handle it. It may be skipping class now, but one day it will be sex, drugs and things that could rock his world. And not in a good way!

We’ve talked about secrets – what’s ok and what’s not ok. We’ve talked about what to do and who to talk to if someone is hurting him, or someone he loves. We’ve talked about bullies and strangers, and people who aren’t strangers but may be acting strange.

We’ve talked about how hard it can be to become an “adult”. We faced some of the same challenges and we didn’t always have great success.  As parents, as people, we’re far from perfect and we freely admit it. But we’ve have a little experience under our rapidly expanding belts!

“Adulthood is like looking both ways before you cross the street,
and then getting hit by an airplane.” – Anonymous

Most importantly, we talked about how much we love him. We let him know that he is never truly alone. We may not always approve of his choices, but we will always affirm him. And I think of all the conversations we’ve had, this one is the one that will keep him safe.

Photo courtesy of http://www.daveswordsofwisdom.com

***

This has been a “10 Minute Monday” post (where I write about whatever I want for a minimum 10 minutes, no editing – mayhem, memories, maudlin mumblings, or  “mwa ha ha” moments.

You Must Be This Tall to Ride

Tags

faith, family, life lessons, parenting

I remember the first time Big Guy rode a big coaster. We had taken him to an amusement park, warning him that he might not be tall enough to ride. The park had one of those “You must be this tall to ride” signs and your height determined just what rides you could go on. Big Guy was just (and I mean just) tall enough to have access to all the rides. And he knew exactly where he wanted to go first – the newest, biggest, fastest coaster in the park. Ugh!

We lined up for over an hour, Big Guy excitedly chattering away about how cool this was going to be. With every inch, my nerves grew. I’ve tried to like roller coasters but without success. So when Hubby and Big Guy sat down and strapped in, I kept right on going. I heard the rest of the story after the ride.  Halfway up the first hill, Big Guy told Hubby, “I want off”, but it was too late!

Becoming a parent can be like that. There’s the waiting and anticipation for this new life; the physical and mental preparation as the date gets closer. There’s a mix of  excitement and fear, and often one panicked moment when you want everything to stop and let you “off”. But it’s too late and the ride has already begun.  And when it’s all over, the elation.

As a parent, each  day, is it’s own ride…anticipation, excitement, fear and elation. Sometimes we scream and want off; other times, we settle in and enjoy the ride.  Or worse, some parents just “chicken out”.

Last week involved a few roller coaster rides for us – there were lows and highs, laughter and tears, and one sleepless night. I wondered if my heart could take it. I’ve already endured so many bumpy and painful rides watching Big Guy grow up – I was so young, blending a family so challengeing. The rides with Little Guy already seem so much less harrowing than with Big Guy, but a lot has changed. I’ve changed.

I’ve learned…how well I fare in the ride depends on one thing:

It has nothing to do with my height or my weight, or the number of years I’ve been a Mom. It has everything to do with where I place my knees at the beginning of the day (or the middle of the day, or the 27th time in a day when I start to feel nauseous and overwhelmed). If my knees are firmly on the ground at Jesus’ feet, I’m tall enough to ride. My heart is strong enough. And in the midst of the ride, I can find joy and grace, enough to last every ride until the end of my days.

Today is just another ride, and I’m learning to like this roller coaster.

“You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn’t like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it…” – Grandma, Parenthood

* * *

This has been a 10 minute post…where I write for 10 minutes with no editing on any topic…memories, mayhem or maw ha ha moments.

5 Hints to Help Harnass Halloween Fears…for Parents!

Tags

children, halloween, humour, parenting

Great Scott!

It’s Halloween again, and a scary time of year for parents. The  high expectations for award-winning costumes and large chocolate hauls are just the start to this harrowing holiday.

“Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free.” – Shawshank Redemption

Whether this is your first Halloween as a parent, or you are a veteran, here are a few helpful hints to help you survive this spine-tingling season.

1.  Be prepared.

Are you afraid you’ll be up at all hours of the night with small children traumatized by the Reese’s PB Cup advertisement? You should be. Small kids, in particular, have difficulty differentiating between fantasy and reality, and they will be bombarded with gory, ghostly ghouls on a daily basis. Take heart. They will outgrow it, right about the time they are ready to go to trick-or-treating alone with their friends, or worse, to an unchaperoned party.  Stock up on caffeinated beverages to help you stay awake. Wear your running shoes so you can run down the culprits egging your house (even if you fail to catch them, you’ll make a point: I’m old but don’t mess with me!) Keep your cell phone charged and your hamstrings stretched. Your fantasy of a great night’s sleep on Halloween night will one day be a reality, and your children will be living this ordeal instead.

2. Accept the things you cannot change.

When it comes to costumes, try to relax. Just because you spent $50 on an adorable Disney costume and your child adamantly refuses to wear is no reflection on your success or failure as a parent. Your kids will find multiple ways to blame you for their emotional scars, regardless of how hard you tried to make a Barney costume that wasn’t frigtening (there’s no such thing by the way – Barney is and will forever be kinda’ scary)! Just “let it go, let it go…rise like the break of dawn”.

Yes. Someday I WILL show this to your wife!

3. Be Courageous

Perhaps whoever started the tradition of gutting and carving pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns was an idiot. Hmm…let’s combine knives, fire and eager little fingers, said no responsible parent ever. But at some point, kids get big enough they won’t be satisfied just scooping goo and drawing the face. They want to wield the knives themselves. At some point, you’ll have to cut the apron strings and relinquish the blade. The first cut is the deepest, but if you stay confident and talk them through it, they will succeed with a great sense of pride…and all their digits!

Big Guy in 1992…now he wields a chain saw next to powerlines for a living. That’s scary!

4. It’s Ok to Eat Your Kids’ Candy.

Snag a piece or 2 discreetly from your kids’ candy while they’re in bed. You’ll need the energy when they wake you from a dead sleep at 2 a.m. (Plus, you burned it off walking around the neighbourhood in the rain). Finally, as much as they declare their love for you, they probably won’t share their mini chocolate bars. Instead, you will be showered with cast-off candies like rock-hard candy corn and those weird caramels that come in the orange & black wax-paper wrappers (i.e., the same stuff we cast-off and our parents ate). Don’t feel guilty – it’s the Circle of Life.

#2 on http://www.toptenz.net’s Top 10 Worst Halloween Candies

5. If You Can’t Beat Them…Frighten them!

Little ones think it’s cool when parents dress up too. But eventually, they reach an age when being in public with you on any given day is positively terrifying…for them! These are the “fun” years…for you. Funnel all the merciless humiliation you endure by simply “being” on the other 364 days of the year into this one day.  Don’t be afraid to let out your inner princess or Rock Star! Hide  in their closet. Threaten to post their first bath photos on the internet. Why? Because you are an adult, and sometimes your inner child needs to come out and play.

Note the cardboard box hiding Little Guy’s identity…

Remember – You are not alone. There are others like you. The person standing in line behind you at the grocery store, the one who looks like the walking dead, that is probably a frightened parent too. Like you, they have spent the last 4 weeks gearing up for Halloween. They will likely spend the next 3 weeks sleep-deprived and strung out on their children’s cast-off candy. Their bodies are enduring long hours hunched up over sewing machines and standing in long lines to buy glitter. Their fingers are scarred by pumpkin cutters and glue guns. They are walking the floors at night comforting their trembling babes and worrying about real monsters prowling the streets at night.Their ears are deafened by screams of terror and delight. Tonight, we will walk miles in the bone-aching evening chill, dutifully clutching pillow cases of loot that will never touch our lips.  Do it for your kids but don’t be afraid!

“Nothing spreads like fear” – Contagion

Happy Halloween!

 

A Mile In My Shoes

Tags

humour, parenting, walk

This week I was forced to join the rank of “good parents” who walk their kids to school. I’ve seen them, tramping through the snow in single file, parents in the lead while the kids drag their feet at a respectful 10 feet behind them. Like lambs to the slaughter…

I drive a FORD – Fix Or Repair Daily. Or as a friend reminded me – Found On Road Dead. I have spent more time at the mechanics with this “new” car that I bought all by myself than I ever did with my 14 year old car! This week, I tried to accelerate at a green light (always better than at a red light) but my car had a brain-fart and forgot what to do. It made a grinding noise first, then it shuddered and hiccupped, and refused to go over 20 km/hour. The cars lined up behind me like a funeral parade, and the drivers’ hands started wave at me. I flipped on my hazard lights, but they continued to wave. The car eventually sorted itself out and I made it to the school and the mechanics without further incident…but it meant I had no car on Thursday.

I usually drive Little Guy to school. It’s not because I’m anti-environmentally-friendly. Nor am I worried that my child will melt if he gets rained/snowed on (I already know he won’t). When Little Guy started school, I was still sorting out some health problems that meant long walks were not possible. Plus Little Guy was in all-day kindergarten and by the end of the day, he was so tired, I literally had to carry him to the car. Then I started working and it saved me time to drop him at school on my way to work. And let’s be honest…I have trouble crawling out of bed on time!

We walked home once before when the car was at the mechanics. It helped me understand the single file trudge with parents leading – they were trying to get away from all whining.

So, yesterday morning, I crawled out of bed early, choked down a piece of toast, and dragged headed out the front door to walk to school. We were dressed in multiple layers but I was too warm despite the fact that the Radio Guy said it felt like -15C. By the time I got to the school and home again, I had wasted spent 40 precious minutes had doing the “E” word (i.e., exercise). I had sweat off 10 lbs (at least in my mind) and I had lost all feeling in my thighs. I’m hoping that was from the cold, not the sign of a heart condition. I was also ready for a nap.

I had the pleasure again at the end of the school day, only by this time, the wind had picked up. My fingers and toes were burning half way to the school; I had lost all feeling by the time I arrived. And I didn’t time it right so I had an extra 10 minutes to wait. I nearly dozed off sitting on the baseball bleachers…from hypothermia. I prayed for the bell to ring.

I’m certain Little Guy was the last kid to leave the school yesterday afternoon, and when he did finally emerge from the warmth, he moved slower than molasses in January. His path to my resting place was like this:

The Family Circus – Bil Keane

I nearly wept, but my tear ducts were frozen, along with my chin, my will to live, and something nasty in my nose. I kept myself awake by watching for and pointing every doggie pee puddle in the snow banks that I could find. Little Guy was not amused.

I was positively giddy by the time I got home.

Only my car still wasn’t ready…which means another walk today. And bonus. There’s snow falling on cedars! Once I get Little Guy to school and if I survive the death march home, I have to change into a dress and hitch a ride to the dealership for a “loaner” car.

Wish me luck!

Happy Weekend!