A red eye flight has left me exactly that- red eyed. Our family made it back to Hamilton after a great month out West. Josh has officially tied the knot, and the Harskamp clan continues to expand. Fantastically, we had a chance to meet our newest niece, Anika Marlee, born to Mark and Leah a day before our departure. I'm excited for them and what's in store with this new sibling for Elizabeth. Having sibs has a way of molding your children into little people they might not otherwise have turned out to be. I find it very fascinating.
This trip I've really noticed how Jesse and Anneliese are growing into their relationship with eachother, and so far, I like what I'm seeing. Jesse is becoming a true older brother. He looks out for Anneliese when other kids are on the scene, and gives her plenty of hugs and kisses, that she never seems to want, but he never seems to care. Warms my heart a little, to see my little guy love his little sis in a very 3 year old kind of way.
The kids did well, despite the gongshow of a flight we had with Sunwing. A six hour delay speaks for itself, but in a word, it was truly miserable. But, the beauty of another day is that it is another day, and just breathing B.C air was enough to erase the past 12 hours and get us pumped for our month long holiday.
We are no strangers to Surrey, having spent over half a year there, and seeing how mom and dad weren't off work yet, and we had no vehicle, it was up to us to make something of our first week of VayK. We tracked down bus routes, took the skytrain, walked to the malls, hit up the beach, and met up with friends, but for the most part, spent the first week with "just us". With the wedding in the works, things were a little chaotic, but I'm pretty good with chaos, seeing as it is my life most days.
A few highlights
1. the aquarium with Mark and Leah was a GREAT idea, and I could have spent at least another few hours just watching dolphins, otters, penguins, and parrots. There was also a jungle exhibit with birds, butterflies, sloths, and monkeys, which seemed somewhat out of place, but was a pleasant surprise nonetheless. Afterwards, we met up with Mom and Dad and walked the sea wall, which truly never gets old.
2. White Rock beach with just James, myself and the kids. This little excursion was timed accidentally perfectly, and the kids had a chance to storm the beach as the tide stormed in, catch crabs in their sand pails, make sand angels, and chase seagulls.
3. Kayaking trip with James, myself and Dad in Deep Cove. This was a long anticipated trip, and it delivered. We strapped a couple kayaks to the x-trail, left the kids with mom, and explored some beautiful terrain. And I saw seals...in the wild!
4. Biking around Stanley Park and Granville Island with mom and dad. I think this one takes the cake. I had a pale pink 7 speed cruiser with a basket on the front (I've always wanted a basket) and a wide granny seat. It took care of me for the day, and I couldn't have been happier :) Dad pulled the kids in the chariot, and we stopped for picnics, popsicles, and pretty views. In a word- lovely.
5. Shuswap! Our kids got the chance to experience their daddy's cabin, and I think that's pretty special. James taught them the art of Roofio and swimming with puddlejumpers, and they loved every second of it. It was so great to have a space to hang with the immediate and extended family that was cut off from the every day demands of home. I learned a great new game-table crib- and just soaked up the beauty of life at the cabin. Definite highlight.
6. Wedding- of course, the reason we flew down was to celebrate with Josh and Kate. Jesse was the 'ringbearer'--which meant he could wear a new tie and race down the aisle to catch up with James, and then proceed to hide behind James' legs at the front of the church, while I tried to keep Anneliese from doing likewise at the back of the church. Having a kid free evening was also pretty fantastic :) Congrats to Josh and Kate!
7. Friends! We had a chance to say our goodbye's to the Reimers before they moved, to meet Dan's new wife, to have breakfast with Joel and his wonderful fiance, to spend a day with Trine at the cabin, and a few hours with Robyn at 3rd beach. James' went on a 3 day surfing trip for Josh's bachelor party, and I had a chance to see and get to know Leah just a little bit better.
8. Skytrain with the kids--just for the heck of it, we took the kids on the skytrain-- and I think it blew their minds.
9. Red Robin's with my man James. We split a milkshake, and discussed evolution, and it was a real date :)
10. All the time spent eating wonderful meals in mom and dad's back yard, with our children swimming naked in the shark pool. The sliders were particularly memorable, being James' birthday meal of choice, and I think they made his day. I hope so, considering I didn't do much in terms of gift giving, for which I've been forgiven :)It pays to have a man with very simple taste.
And that, in a nutshell, sums up our month out West. It went so quickly, and we have no idea when we'll be back, but I am happy we could make the most of it, and that our kids had the chance to bond with their cousins, and their Oma and Opa. We will miss you all!
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
And just like that, spring is past, summer is present, and calendar pages keep me posted on potential.
Old things,( like having mind and body frozen during that never ending story of winter) are smudged into the back of my memory to make room for the pleasant present, and the not so distant past.
Last weekend I went with a group of 7 other women to the women's national gospel coalition conference in Orlando, Florida. Despite the oppressive humidity, the weekend was a breath of fresh air for my soul. 4000 women worshiping God together is bound to leave an impression, along with solid biblical teaching and instruction on attaining biblical literacy to at least some capacity in this life. Great speakers, great girls, great lazy rivers and nacho platters. It was an oasis that charged me up for my role as wife, mom, and member in the church. A big take-away for me was a deeper understanding of God's call NOT to make me "successful" necessarily, but a call to service, even to the point of extreme sacrifice. Cue examples like Moses, Jonah, Nehemiah- to name a few.
It has helped me keep my chin up a bit, when I'm dealing with crap up to my elbows because my girl has taken off her full diaper to create a masterpiece in her pack n play, or when my boy has at least 3 meltdowns in the parking lot before we even step foot in the store. I won't say the joy of sacrifice comes easy for me--( I may have wanted to hop back on a plane for a 2nd oasis) but at least I'm slightly re-orienting my notion of what brings joy, and who joy comes from. I think this life will be a lot more satisfying when I uncover this truth more fully, but it's a work in progress.
Anyways, I got back from the trip and realized my kids have grown up. Anneliese is singing real words to real songs, and Jesse is racing 7 year old kids on his bike at the park. I thought his training wheels were going to pop off. It's a little unnerving, seeing my little boy look like he's becoming a big boy. There is no doubt he's seriously growing, because he tells me every day, at least 3 times a day, that his "legs are broken" (translated- his legs hurt) and that he's hungry. He also takes naps. Jesse.. naps?!
It gets my mind spinning about parenting and what exactly I am going to do when he doesn't tell me 20 times a day that he loves me, and the hugs and kisses become a little less frequent. Will I miss the little boy? Or will I only see him as he is in the present? Is the change so subtle I won't notice until I look back on this blog and remember the 'broken legs' and serious PDA?
And Anneliese- that girl is so adorable that I completely missed the fact that she has been changing. Now her bangs are in her eyes, she wears a full pony tail, and everything she does is preceded by the statement " I do it". I can't even put her in her carseat without a fight.
And then me- I feel like I'm carrying a bowling ball around, and it's throwing my entire lower half into chaos. If it's not already a bit of a kicker that none of my pants/shorts cooperate, it's even worse that now my legs occasionally give out. Pregnant and changing. Which must mean there's also another little person growing up right under my nose that I don't even know yet.
But with all the change of seasons and little people, and bodies, I'm grateful that James appears to be the same. I don't think I could handle anyone else growing up at the moment, and since James has always been an old soul, I don't foresee a big spike on the horizon. But I'll have to check my calendar.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
A bit of spring
The doldrums of winter have passed and there is wind in my sails again. Springy things are happening--tulips popping, mud puddling, laundry hanging, ice cream outings increasing. We scooped up a cupful of frog eggs on our last hike excursion through the Canterbury Hills in Ancaster, and although the biologist of the family had completely lost faith in the little guys, (granted, they sat unchanging in a Tim Horton's cup of sludge water for nearly 3 weeks) I did not, and they hatched 2 days ago. We are now growing frogs on our front porch.
Saturday was a particularly enjoyable day, being Mother's day, despite two serious parenting fails.
The first- James and I, picnicking at the park with the kids, talking about how awesome this park is because the kids CAN'T hurt themselves (ours usually do) when Anneliese falls off the jungle gym. A big drop. I didn't know I could scream until that moment. She was fine, overall, but James retreated into himself for the next 3 hours or so going through all the horrible worst case scenarios of what could have happened. I'm glad he kept that to himself. I'm much more the "oh, phew- she's fine- let's forget about THAT" type. To each his own. That wrapped up our picnic pretty quickly, and we headed into Dundas for a little window shopping.
Second fail-- deciding it would be a good idea to take the kids into a toy shop in Dundas. (Italics needed to stress that Dundas is the upper class side of town, and children just don't do upper class). We enter- kids bee line for a wooden clown on a stick, start to fight over it, and then I step on it and snap it, in my attempt to get in between the squabble. Then I hide the stick, (all my proper upbringing gone in that one instant) and football carry an angry son out of the store. James, in no mood for this, is already long gone with Anneliese. At the car, I tell him I snapped the stick, and he tells me to get my butt back in there and buy it (a good man :)) So I go, $20 bucks in hand, to buy my Mother's day gift on Mother's day. (side note- the lady said she was feeling magnanimous, (which I had to go and look up when I got home) and let me off the hook. The word was a good one, if you're interested: generous in forgiving an insult or injury; free from petty resentfulness or vindictiveness: to be magnanimous toward one's enemies.)
Sunday was a day to bask in the glory of my parent's estate. Forsythias punching colour along the property line, magnolia blossoms in full swing, and the cousins dominating the tennis court on their little trikes loving life, liberty and the pure childish pursuit of happiness (plagiraism noted ) I love my parents home. Every time I go I have grand plans to take hikes with the kids and explore my old stomping grounds but we always end up just staying put and soaking everything in from the pond or patio. I forget that the kids don't need 'outings' like they do here in the 'burbs'. They have enough to do on the property, and that's exactly how I remember life at home growing up. I think that's why it's so easy to be there, and why I love taking my family there. And of course my parents are fabulous.
Another thing of note-and completely off topic-- every member of the former 'wild things' clan (my childhood friends for life) have now crossed over to the stage of motherhood. In order- Joc was the first brave soul to take the plunge, then me, then Vanessa, then Kristina, then Sarah, and now Cheryl. Congratulations friends! This was a topic discussed at length in the hoeing fields growing up, and can finally move from speculation to fact. I'm happy for each and every one of you, and I am ALWAYS available if you need someone to share a coffee with, and to give you an honest sschpeel on having life turned upside down, and finding a way to navigate it while on your head:) Yes, sometimes it's that extreme.
Now a shout out to my babies.
Jesse makes me proud. For a week our driveway has been piled high in paving stones, and Saturday was the day to set out the skids and start stacking. Tim, Jordan, James and myself got to work, loading wheelbarrows etc, and Jesse came in with his little red wagon and just got it done. I think, on his own, he stacked 3 layers of the smallest bricks. Seeing that kid work makes me proud. I no longer work to distract him, but get him to work. Tonight he cut all the mushrooms for our dinner with his butter knife. I like noticing these subtle developments in my boy. He's a sweetheart.
Anneliese makes me laugh. Her life is a giant game, and I think that's pretty great. She sings a LOT - her favourites being Raffi's "It's my bathtime" and the classic Sharon, Lois, and Bram "Skinna marinky dinky dink". She repeats everything and has a dirt fetish. I think she's a grub on purpose, just because she loves the bath so much. Her hair is getting blonde, and is going to be beautifully curly. Her eyes are more hazel now, like mine, but darker. There's nothing very delicate about her, but it's nice to know that she can fall (far) and bounce back up. A strong girl.
And baby #3. We don't know you at all yet, but I'm going to get a little look at you next week for my 19 week ultra sound. So far, you've been a joy to carry :)
Annnnnd it wouldn't be fair to talk about new babies without mentioning my newest and only Harskamp nephew- Judah Glenn Matthias Harskamp- born only 4 days ago to my wonderful bro and sis- in law Brian and Ali. As far as I know, they are all doing great. I'm pretty pumped for my kids to meet the newest cuz, and to see just what kind of boy he's going to be for his parents :) Can't help but hope he's a lot like J- bear :)
Saturday was a particularly enjoyable day, being Mother's day, despite two serious parenting fails.
The first- James and I, picnicking at the park with the kids, talking about how awesome this park is because the kids CAN'T hurt themselves (ours usually do) when Anneliese falls off the jungle gym. A big drop. I didn't know I could scream until that moment. She was fine, overall, but James retreated into himself for the next 3 hours or so going through all the horrible worst case scenarios of what could have happened. I'm glad he kept that to himself. I'm much more the "oh, phew- she's fine- let's forget about THAT" type. To each his own. That wrapped up our picnic pretty quickly, and we headed into Dundas for a little window shopping.
Second fail-- deciding it would be a good idea to take the kids into a toy shop in Dundas. (Italics needed to stress that Dundas is the upper class side of town, and children just don't do upper class). We enter- kids bee line for a wooden clown on a stick, start to fight over it, and then I step on it and snap it, in my attempt to get in between the squabble. Then I hide the stick, (all my proper upbringing gone in that one instant) and football carry an angry son out of the store. James, in no mood for this, is already long gone with Anneliese. At the car, I tell him I snapped the stick, and he tells me to get my butt back in there and buy it (a good man :)) So I go, $20 bucks in hand, to buy my Mother's day gift on Mother's day. (side note- the lady said she was feeling magnanimous, (which I had to go and look up when I got home) and let me off the hook. The word was a good one, if you're interested: generous in forgiving an insult or injury; free from petty resentfulness or vindictiveness: to be magnanimous toward one's enemies.)
Sunday was a day to bask in the glory of my parent's estate. Forsythias punching colour along the property line, magnolia blossoms in full swing, and the cousins dominating the tennis court on their little trikes loving life, liberty and the pure childish pursuit of happiness (plagiraism noted ) I love my parents home. Every time I go I have grand plans to take hikes with the kids and explore my old stomping grounds but we always end up just staying put and soaking everything in from the pond or patio. I forget that the kids don't need 'outings' like they do here in the 'burbs'. They have enough to do on the property, and that's exactly how I remember life at home growing up. I think that's why it's so easy to be there, and why I love taking my family there. And of course my parents are fabulous.
Another thing of note-and completely off topic-- every member of the former 'wild things' clan (my childhood friends for life) have now crossed over to the stage of motherhood. In order- Joc was the first brave soul to take the plunge, then me, then Vanessa, then Kristina, then Sarah, and now Cheryl. Congratulations friends! This was a topic discussed at length in the hoeing fields growing up, and can finally move from speculation to fact. I'm happy for each and every one of you, and I am ALWAYS available if you need someone to share a coffee with, and to give you an honest sschpeel on having life turned upside down, and finding a way to navigate it while on your head:) Yes, sometimes it's that extreme.
Now a shout out to my babies.
Jesse makes me proud. For a week our driveway has been piled high in paving stones, and Saturday was the day to set out the skids and start stacking. Tim, Jordan, James and myself got to work, loading wheelbarrows etc, and Jesse came in with his little red wagon and just got it done. I think, on his own, he stacked 3 layers of the smallest bricks. Seeing that kid work makes me proud. I no longer work to distract him, but get him to work. Tonight he cut all the mushrooms for our dinner with his butter knife. I like noticing these subtle developments in my boy. He's a sweetheart.
Anneliese makes me laugh. Her life is a giant game, and I think that's pretty great. She sings a LOT - her favourites being Raffi's "It's my bathtime" and the classic Sharon, Lois, and Bram "Skinna marinky dinky dink". She repeats everything and has a dirt fetish. I think she's a grub on purpose, just because she loves the bath so much. Her hair is getting blonde, and is going to be beautifully curly. Her eyes are more hazel now, like mine, but darker. There's nothing very delicate about her, but it's nice to know that she can fall (far) and bounce back up. A strong girl.
And baby #3. We don't know you at all yet, but I'm going to get a little look at you next week for my 19 week ultra sound. So far, you've been a joy to carry :)
Annnnnd it wouldn't be fair to talk about new babies without mentioning my newest and only Harskamp nephew- Judah Glenn Matthias Harskamp- born only 4 days ago to my wonderful bro and sis- in law Brian and Ali. As far as I know, they are all doing great. I'm pretty pumped for my kids to meet the newest cuz, and to see just what kind of boy he's going to be for his parents :) Can't help but hope he's a lot like J- bear :)
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Changing my tune
I'm in the uncomfortable stage of my life where friends around me are drifting enviably around God's globe while talk at the Harskamp home is circling around that most unsettling word--"settling". In short- buying a house. Where and when and why are my constant question companions while I let this notion settle into my brain space. The pessimist in me hears the clang of mortgage, cramped crappy 70's home, 10X10 patch of grass passed off as a yard, city kids, but worst of all, nomadic freedom at its end. This minor chord plays while I fine tune my hearing to the major. Our own land, to manipulate, to plant, to beautify. Our own home, where we can knock down walls, and fix our own lightbulbs! A place to call ours, for real, for keeps, for starters.
As far as starter homes go, I'm stuck in an obnoxious b flat. Everything I've seen so far in this "glorious city of Hamilton" is a lot of buck for no bang. I'm told, "don't worry- it's a starter home" to which I am tempted to respond, well then- screw getting "started". Let's go to New Zealand. And if I received even an inkling of encouragement in this regard from my dear husband, the bread winner of the family, I would be happily spending our savings on flights there before Anneliese turns 2 and we've got to buy 4 flights instead of 3. But, the home convo keeps circling like a hungry turkey vulture, who will soon spot that lonely vole and dive. My problem is, I don't want a lonely vole. I want an R.O.U.S (if you don't know that that is, you should find out) That is to say, I want what people say doesn't exist- a big place, a nice home, close to everything, away from everything, peaceful, but sociable, reliable but exciting, full of potential, a place to grow the family UP all the way through, without switching from home to home until we arrive at 'the one'. I want exactly what I had growing up, and I know it's crazy to try and get it. But that seems to be my standard, and if it doesn't exist in Hamilton, might we try elsewhere?
This is danger zone. Leave Hamilton? Because you know, the grass is always greener...
Stay in Hamilton? Raise city kids!?!
At the end of the day, I know it's trivial. Put in its proper perspective, the turkey vulture will get a mouse and be happy because it's alive and soaring. I get that. But I get dreaming too, and that's my privilege as a human being. I don't need to have all my standards met, but I do like to set my standard and shape my visions. The dreaming part is fun too. Just all the more trickier when you are dreaming for two, then three, then four, then five.
Oh ya. We're having another baby :) And he's probably not going to care where he lives, as long as he/she has someone looking out for him. It's crossed my mind occasionally that it really isn't nice how short babyhood/childhood is, considering how long we have to live as responsible adults, buying homes, and paying bills. But I guess the consolation is that while we do our duties in life, and live it, and love others, we can fill up the cracks with developing dreams. And that, folks, ends this blog in the right key, on the right note.
As far as starter homes go, I'm stuck in an obnoxious b flat. Everything I've seen so far in this "glorious city of Hamilton" is a lot of buck for no bang. I'm told, "don't worry- it's a starter home" to which I am tempted to respond, well then- screw getting "started". Let's go to New Zealand. And if I received even an inkling of encouragement in this regard from my dear husband, the bread winner of the family, I would be happily spending our savings on flights there before Anneliese turns 2 and we've got to buy 4 flights instead of 3. But, the home convo keeps circling like a hungry turkey vulture, who will soon spot that lonely vole and dive. My problem is, I don't want a lonely vole. I want an R.O.U.S (if you don't know that that is, you should find out) That is to say, I want what people say doesn't exist- a big place, a nice home, close to everything, away from everything, peaceful, but sociable, reliable but exciting, full of potential, a place to grow the family UP all the way through, without switching from home to home until we arrive at 'the one'. I want exactly what I had growing up, and I know it's crazy to try and get it. But that seems to be my standard, and if it doesn't exist in Hamilton, might we try elsewhere?
This is danger zone. Leave Hamilton? Because you know, the grass is always greener...
Stay in Hamilton? Raise city kids!?!
At the end of the day, I know it's trivial. Put in its proper perspective, the turkey vulture will get a mouse and be happy because it's alive and soaring. I get that. But I get dreaming too, and that's my privilege as a human being. I don't need to have all my standards met, but I do like to set my standard and shape my visions. The dreaming part is fun too. Just all the more trickier when you are dreaming for two, then three, then four, then five.
Oh ya. We're having another baby :) And he's probably not going to care where he lives, as long as he/she has someone looking out for him. It's crossed my mind occasionally that it really isn't nice how short babyhood/childhood is, considering how long we have to live as responsible adults, buying homes, and paying bills. But I guess the consolation is that while we do our duties in life, and live it, and love others, we can fill up the cracks with developing dreams. And that, folks, ends this blog in the right key, on the right note.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Right before church Anneliese walked into a door and got a huge goose egg.
During church Jesse wet his pants, and we had no back up pair. He ran out of church in purple tights (Apparently their ARE moms out there (with little girls) who pack these things)
The outfit, coincidentally, matched perfectly with the purple ball gown Anneliese "insisted" on wearing. How does a one year old insist? It's a rodeo. A rope flings out of nowhere, fitting snuggly on the calf's neck. There's a second of absolute stillness. Just pull her in. Then she balks, kicking, crying, stamping, snorting. The rope is slipped, the calf is free, show goes on. The jean jumper will slip the rope. Not the ridiculous purple ball gown.
Meal time has turned itself into a particular kind of nightmare. The timer is not a threat when your toddler asks for you to set it. And then has you dancing about setting three different timers at his request. Nor is the bedroom of any consequence when your son asks if he can go and sit in his room, rather than eat a green bean. Two hours restrained in the booster seat does NOT phase him. For the love of beans, (for which he has none) what do parents actually DO to get their kids to sample vitamin A?!? I find sanctuary in my well traveled thought-road " honey nut cheerios have everything a growing toddler needs" or " I'm sure one meal a day will keep him alive".
Dinner is dreaded, but dealt with.
On to bedtime. Thoughts of hot coffee push me out of the black hole of dinner and the next routine begins like clockwork. Drawing energy from the simple sound of percolating goodness, I fill the bath, plug it with a bouncy ball (the bath plug went missing months ago) and before the temp is set, one dinner-stained, naked toddler is vaulting into the tub, with his baby sister at his heels. I catch her, strip her, and then set her wriggling into the water- a naked guppy in her glory. My kids LOVE the bathtub.
The shower tiles don't. Like baby teeth, they started strong, but with a little wear and tear they got loose, and then with a lot more tear (literally) they have fallen out completely. We've lost three, and and it's now only a matter of time before the tile wall comes down.
Our landlord will have his hands full with the bathroom.
Every bath ends. This is known. Yet it ALWAYS results in tantrums. We towel them, lotion them, diaper them, dress them, (quite deaf now by the escalated pitch of pissed offness) and then distract them from the fact that they are no longer pulling tiles from the walls.
Parenting, I've discovered, is 90% distraction.
Post bath is wind down time. Time to read a book, sing a song, get a sippy cup of something, then - stroke of genius- convince them that they should walk themselves to bed because they are just so tired. This works 10% of the time.
Once in bed, there is a perfect calm.
Never trust the perfect calm.
It precedes the storm of questions, requests, outbursts, general desperate attempts to get back out of bed because they have been duped into believing getting in was a good idea in the first place.
This is when I think two parents has never been more important. When resolve weakens in the one, the other is there to steer the course. "Don't give in!" "He's playing us" 'He'll get tired soon"- the verbal buttons we press on repeat while sucking back coffee because if we don't, we probably won't get to drink it while it's hot.
But then the trump card comes out, and there is simply nothing to do when it's played.
"I have to pee on the toilet".
What do you do with this? You lose every time. Don't let him go, do a load of laundry the next morning. Do let him go, and he might not have to, he just wanted to get out of bed and prove to you he could. And by this point, who is really winning anymore?
By 9:00, I let my breath out slowly, tension eases from the shoulders. The game is over. Anneliese and Jesse are simultaneously asleep, and until 11 (inevitably when Jesse tends to fall out of bed) there is a beautiful 2 hour window of opportunity to read and grow and learn and refocus on all the things I want to do in MY life. A selfish, important 2 hours. That's what I get in the day. I wonder sometimes about what life with babies has reduced me to. ( Reduced sounds like a bad word, but sometimes, it is the accurate word). Who am I to people anymore? Why do my blogs all focus around my kids? Where did James go? How did my demanding little kids bump him to the outer circle? Or do we both just have our noses to the grind and don't notice we are rubbing shoulders in the same circle? I think that's it. And I think that's why date nights are imperative with kids.
James is here, marking papers and planning lessons. Our routine around 9 usually involves something coming up on the big screen and a snack of something and an hour of watching easy entertainment. Even with the kids asleep, bread and circuses live on. I don't know that this is a good thing, but after a day spent with min- tornadoes, it's a needed thing.
So, this is a stage in life. A very real stage of life. At times it's my comedy, my tragedy, my history. But it IS my story, and I delight to tell it, exaggerate it, and find the humour in it (but only in the 2 hours of stillness does the comedy come alive.( eg. in the moment, a diaperless boy pooping on his chair holds no humour))
We don't always like it, but we may love it, because God help us, we can't seem to help it :)
During church Jesse wet his pants, and we had no back up pair. He ran out of church in purple tights (Apparently their ARE moms out there (with little girls) who pack these things)
The outfit, coincidentally, matched perfectly with the purple ball gown Anneliese "insisted" on wearing. How does a one year old insist? It's a rodeo. A rope flings out of nowhere, fitting snuggly on the calf's neck. There's a second of absolute stillness. Just pull her in. Then she balks, kicking, crying, stamping, snorting. The rope is slipped, the calf is free, show goes on. The jean jumper will slip the rope. Not the ridiculous purple ball gown.
Meal time has turned itself into a particular kind of nightmare. The timer is not a threat when your toddler asks for you to set it. And then has you dancing about setting three different timers at his request. Nor is the bedroom of any consequence when your son asks if he can go and sit in his room, rather than eat a green bean. Two hours restrained in the booster seat does NOT phase him. For the love of beans, (for which he has none) what do parents actually DO to get their kids to sample vitamin A?!? I find sanctuary in my well traveled thought-road " honey nut cheerios have everything a growing toddler needs" or " I'm sure one meal a day will keep him alive".
Dinner is dreaded, but dealt with.
On to bedtime. Thoughts of hot coffee push me out of the black hole of dinner and the next routine begins like clockwork. Drawing energy from the simple sound of percolating goodness, I fill the bath, plug it with a bouncy ball (the bath plug went missing months ago) and before the temp is set, one dinner-stained, naked toddler is vaulting into the tub, with his baby sister at his heels. I catch her, strip her, and then set her wriggling into the water- a naked guppy in her glory. My kids LOVE the bathtub.
The shower tiles don't. Like baby teeth, they started strong, but with a little wear and tear they got loose, and then with a lot more tear (literally) they have fallen out completely. We've lost three, and and it's now only a matter of time before the tile wall comes down.
Our landlord will have his hands full with the bathroom.
Every bath ends. This is known. Yet it ALWAYS results in tantrums. We towel them, lotion them, diaper them, dress them, (quite deaf now by the escalated pitch of pissed offness) and then distract them from the fact that they are no longer pulling tiles from the walls.
Parenting, I've discovered, is 90% distraction.
Post bath is wind down time. Time to read a book, sing a song, get a sippy cup of something, then - stroke of genius- convince them that they should walk themselves to bed because they are just so tired. This works 10% of the time.
Once in bed, there is a perfect calm.
Never trust the perfect calm.
It precedes the storm of questions, requests, outbursts, general desperate attempts to get back out of bed because they have been duped into believing getting in was a good idea in the first place.
This is when I think two parents has never been more important. When resolve weakens in the one, the other is there to steer the course. "Don't give in!" "He's playing us" 'He'll get tired soon"- the verbal buttons we press on repeat while sucking back coffee because if we don't, we probably won't get to drink it while it's hot.
But then the trump card comes out, and there is simply nothing to do when it's played.
"I have to pee on the toilet".
What do you do with this? You lose every time. Don't let him go, do a load of laundry the next morning. Do let him go, and he might not have to, he just wanted to get out of bed and prove to you he could. And by this point, who is really winning anymore?
By 9:00, I let my breath out slowly, tension eases from the shoulders. The game is over. Anneliese and Jesse are simultaneously asleep, and until 11 (inevitably when Jesse tends to fall out of bed) there is a beautiful 2 hour window of opportunity to read and grow and learn and refocus on all the things I want to do in MY life. A selfish, important 2 hours. That's what I get in the day. I wonder sometimes about what life with babies has reduced me to. ( Reduced sounds like a bad word, but sometimes, it is the accurate word). Who am I to people anymore? Why do my blogs all focus around my kids? Where did James go? How did my demanding little kids bump him to the outer circle? Or do we both just have our noses to the grind and don't notice we are rubbing shoulders in the same circle? I think that's it. And I think that's why date nights are imperative with kids.
James is here, marking papers and planning lessons. Our routine around 9 usually involves something coming up on the big screen and a snack of something and an hour of watching easy entertainment. Even with the kids asleep, bread and circuses live on. I don't know that this is a good thing, but after a day spent with min- tornadoes, it's a needed thing.
So, this is a stage in life. A very real stage of life. At times it's my comedy, my tragedy, my history. But it IS my story, and I delight to tell it, exaggerate it, and find the humour in it (but only in the 2 hours of stillness does the comedy come alive.( eg. in the moment, a diaperless boy pooping on his chair holds no humour))
We don't always like it, but we may love it, because God help us, we can't seem to help it :)
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Talking about my girl.
Tomorrow my girl turns 1. I distinctly remember the months d.r.a.g.g.i.n.g. by until the big 1 year milestone for my firstborn. How did 4 months pass by me without so much as an anecdote for #2? I remember just hoping my son would make it to a year without dying. Anneliese, that thought hasn't even crossed my mind with you-- not that it shouldn't. Last week you fell into the bath tub, got trapped in the toybox, climbed onto the table, and attempted the stairs while my back was turned--and you've survived.
You started walking at 9 months. You were running at 11 months, and now you are on the brink of turning 1, and I want to freeze you here, just long enough for me to process how OLD you really are, and when you started doing so much stuff. I am not one to say things like "I need to process..." mostly because I don't. Things happen, I react, and then I move on. But now I want to process. I have two wonderful kids. Jesse cried for 15 minutes today just because you had to take a nap. He adores you, but doesn't quite snup that you are a small girl, and he is a big boy. Today's game was fishing- he would toss you a spatula tied to a string, and when you would giggle and grab it, he would sprint down the hallway with his string, pulling you with him until you crash( letting go was not an option, apparently) These are the games you two play. And I pick my battles.
You love to cuddle your daddy. Yesterday both you and Jesse were clinging to his legs before he left for work, and I had to console two bawling kids that didn't want their pops to go to work that day. It's slightly irritating in the moment (being left with the riffraff of snot and tears to wipe and dry) but while I process this memory, it warms me up to know how much you guys love your daddy.
Sometimes I feel that for every one step ahead, I am 10 steps behind in all things domestic. In those moments where I let feelings of defeat wash over me, and silently pray that I can become a career woman, I make the decision to let everything be, myself included, and I just find a comfy place to lie down and watch you play. It doesn't take long for you to realize I am lying star fish fashion on the shag carpet, an easy target, and I become the make shift trampoline for as long as my ribs can stand it. And then I have to play--balancing Jesse on my hands, tossing you up in the air off my legs, a regular 'ruff n' tuff routine- and it's hilarious. I mean, I like a tidy house, and I like to walk on the floor without peeling squashed bananas and soggy cheerios out of my toes, but I also like to play and laugh and enjoy you-- it's good for us.
I wish it was easier to describe just you, Anneliese, like I described Jesse's solitary trek through babyhood, but you have a sibling that is shaping you, and I can't seem to find a lot of stories that involve just you. But you're a quick one. You were quick to be born, quick to sit, walk, and run, and I think behind those beautiful brown, smiley eyes, you've got a quick little brain madly working to figure things out-- most of the time it's working overtime just to figure out your older brother. It's been a quick 12 months, and I can't freeze the time. That's what words are for. I hope I can write down enough of them to capture the little girl from a year ago.
Love you.
You started walking at 9 months. You were running at 11 months, and now you are on the brink of turning 1, and I want to freeze you here, just long enough for me to process how OLD you really are, and when you started doing so much stuff. I am not one to say things like "I need to process..." mostly because I don't. Things happen, I react, and then I move on. But now I want to process. I have two wonderful kids. Jesse cried for 15 minutes today just because you had to take a nap. He adores you, but doesn't quite snup that you are a small girl, and he is a big boy. Today's game was fishing- he would toss you a spatula tied to a string, and when you would giggle and grab it, he would sprint down the hallway with his string, pulling you with him until you crash( letting go was not an option, apparently) These are the games you two play. And I pick my battles.
You love to cuddle your daddy. Yesterday both you and Jesse were clinging to his legs before he left for work, and I had to console two bawling kids that didn't want their pops to go to work that day. It's slightly irritating in the moment (being left with the riffraff of snot and tears to wipe and dry) but while I process this memory, it warms me up to know how much you guys love your daddy.
Sometimes I feel that for every one step ahead, I am 10 steps behind in all things domestic. In those moments where I let feelings of defeat wash over me, and silently pray that I can become a career woman, I make the decision to let everything be, myself included, and I just find a comfy place to lie down and watch you play. It doesn't take long for you to realize I am lying star fish fashion on the shag carpet, an easy target, and I become the make shift trampoline for as long as my ribs can stand it. And then I have to play--balancing Jesse on my hands, tossing you up in the air off my legs, a regular 'ruff n' tuff routine- and it's hilarious. I mean, I like a tidy house, and I like to walk on the floor without peeling squashed bananas and soggy cheerios out of my toes, but I also like to play and laugh and enjoy you-- it's good for us.
I wish it was easier to describe just you, Anneliese, like I described Jesse's solitary trek through babyhood, but you have a sibling that is shaping you, and I can't seem to find a lot of stories that involve just you. But you're a quick one. You were quick to be born, quick to sit, walk, and run, and I think behind those beautiful brown, smiley eyes, you've got a quick little brain madly working to figure things out-- most of the time it's working overtime just to figure out your older brother. It's been a quick 12 months, and I can't freeze the time. That's what words are for. I hope I can write down enough of them to capture the little girl from a year ago.
Love you.
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