"That" call

I’m sitting at home right now waiting for a phone call. A bad phone call, the kind you don’t get excited for when the phone buzzes across the table. I’m waiting to hear an update on my oldest uncle; he’s gone to spend his last few weeks at home in Calgary instead of a hospital. You may remember me posting about our drive to Calgary last May for the funeral of my Cousin Chad, this is his dad. He has Cancer and sadly he won’t be with us for much longer. When that phone rings I hope it’s not heartbreaking although it’s expected. My only hope is that my Aunt and 2 cousins can somehow find peace amidst all the loss.

(Uncle John is the second from the left at the back; this is my mom and all her siblings together at Chad’s funeral) 

The Kracken!

I have my own car now (The Kracken) and I have to say that I'm really enjoying the freedom. When I was diagnosed with RA at age 9 driving in the future was definitely a concern. I'm finding though that I'm not having any issues at all. In fact I'm feeling better driving. Maybe it's because I can just pick up and go to the mall to grab something, or run to the store and pick up a missing ingredient for dinner without having to wait for Johnny. No more getting soaked walking at a bus stop. No more freezing as the 97 runs late. It has really taken a lot of stress off me and I'm generally feeling better, mentally and physically.

10 Things Never Said

10 Things Isabella never says:

10 - I think I have enough toys.

9 - I love what you're cooking for dinner.

8 - I've made quite the mess, I should clean up.

7 - I am an only child, I probably shouldn't lie about who did this.

6 - Wow it's getting late, I should be in bed.

5 - I value your privacy mom, I will let you pee alone.

4 - I woke up 6 this morning, I'll play quietly by myself.

3 - This outfit is perfect and I'm going to stay in it all day.

2 - I trust your reasoning and won't argue.

1 - You're sore and just sat down, now is the perfect time to ask for a drink and snack.

Big Baby

Am I the only one who tears up when my kid does?

Not every time, but when she has those sad eyes and you know the waterworks aren’t far behind I can’t help but follow along. Like when Sassy and Chance ran home and Shadow wasn’t right behind them, or when Santa Paws didn’t have anywhere to go. I just can’t that sad little face and uncontrollable emotions. Come to think of it her emotional breakdowns are directly related to animals.

Oh, Dear God. I’ve created a mini-me.

I recall Gram telling a story of a dog who was hit and killed by a car and they never found the owners. I broke down and was hysterical thinking of some poor child waiting by the window for Skippy to come home.

What a baby! 

Tug-of-war

How many other moms out there have string all over their floors? Show of hands.

Why oh why do we insist on spending money on rope toys for the dogs? They’ll play tug-of-war and then just as soon as it starts, it stops. Tucker runs off with the rope and rips it into tiny shreds that are scattered all over the house. I will admit right now that it’s Sunday afternoon while I’m writing this and there is still string on the floor from Friday. I’m not ashamed of being lazy. I have 2 part-time jobs, 2 home businesses, 1 kid, 2 dogs. 

The carpet can wait. 

Just don’t show up unannounced, or I will be mortified.

No Sympathy

I have spent the last 20 years in pain, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. I think this why I have little to no sympathy for other people, even my own kid. He other day at school she pulled the classroom play kitchen over onto herself and the school called to let me know. When I got to the school at 3 to pick her up her teacher made it sound quite serious and I just said “okay.” The teacher looked a little puzzled.

Should I have raced over to her and scooped her in my arms and kissed her head better?

She seemed okay to me so no need to make a big deal out of it right?

Am I harming her by not exaggerating every scrape into a monumental “Mom will make it all better” moment?

Ahhhh... I doubt it.

Talent

Isabella is a singer... all the time.

Every... painful... moment.

I want to encourage her, I really do but somewhere in here I have to stop it and let my headache go away. We are always listening to music, in the car, on her stereo in her room, or on the tv. The problem is that she sings like she talks: repeating the same thing over and over, and then over again. I can’t take it. After a few minutes I have to walk away or ask her to stop. And then it's quiet, and peaceful  This only lasts a minute or two before she starts back up again. “I got lipstick on my eyes, stockings ripped all up the side... I got lipstick on my eyes, stockings ripped all up the side... I got lip...” You get the idea. I love my daughter but maybe we should push the dance classes a little more?

Jealousy

I am certainly not one of those people who had to be the best. I didn’t care about competitions when I was in school and even after that for that matter. When it comes to Isabella I find that I’m quite competitive and even jealous. Not of other kids because let’s be honest Isabella is the shit. I am jealous of Johnny. Isabella is the spitting image of him. When she was really little their infant pictures were indistinguishable. I am quite pale with dirty blond hair, always had blotchy skin, and blue eyes. Isabella doesn’t look a single thing like me. I can’t help but feel that I’ve lost some sort of gene race. People always ask if I’m her babysitter and respond with a puzzled glance when I say she’s my daughter. What if the next one is all me and we have to have to keep reassuring them that neither are adopted?

Letter to Isabella

Your future is limitless. I am, and always will be here for you, to encourage you, to support you, and to love you. I will teach you that the smart girls get further in life than the slutty ones. I will show you that it’s okay to spend your Friday night at home reading a good book. I will teach you about douche bags and how to avoid them at all cost. I will encourage you to learn what a doormat is and to let yourself become one, you are more valuable than you will ever know. I will show you to accept, and embrace the hand that you have been dealt. I will encourage you to talk and never hide your feelings away. I will teach you early on about bullies and show why they are unacceptable. You have a right to be happy and your dad and I will do everything in our power to make sure you always are.

5 Year Olds Are Jerks

I’ve come to realize that my beautiful, precious, little girl is a jerk. She doesn’t have that “shut up” filter that we as adults possess. While this may seem cute to others I’m not so keen on hearing the truth from the mouth of a child. “Mommy you’re getting fat” aww why thank you, you little brat. That’s exactly what I needed to hear as I stuff my face with some Ikea dark chocolate. “You need to vacuum more” well maybe if you didn’t pour your toys and crap all over the floor I wouldn’t have to vacuum as much. “I don’t want what you’re cooking” do you ever? I mean ever? Unless it’s good old KD I know we’re going to fight about food, so just shut it and eat what I put on your plate. Most people would keep their traps shut in instances like these, but not a 5 year old.

Friggly Pants

Have you ever been in the midst of your morning routine and when it came time to slip on your slacks; you had a meltdown? I'm just curious to hear if it's just my kid who finds nearly all of her pants "friggly." Pants that she picks from the store, ones that were given as gifts, and even the hand me down ones: they're all painfully uncomfortable. So much so that when she's laying on the floor rigid and screaming in protest you'd think that every morning a demon inhabits my perfect child. I've done a little looking into clothing issues with kids and found this to be a bit of a taboo subject. They're just picky, or whiny, or becoming independent in their wardrobe. While I don't think she's just being picky, I don't think it's something that's screams medicate me!! I just wish she was comfortable in her own clothes. 

A Little Admiration

I like to think that I'm a perfect parent simply by imperfect parenting. While I may be the best (not up for debate as this is my blog) there are plenty of parents out there that I truly respect and admire. D & R are one of those couples with their little guy Josiah. They follow some of my child raising rules / values and have such a wonderful baby because of it.

1. Pass your kid around - The more you stop other people from holding your baby the more you create a child that can only cope with you and you alone. Throw that date night out the window when it's only you that can settle your little one.

2. Stop shushing people - How do you expect other people to be quiet because little Jimmy is sleeping when the whole notion is stupid. You've now created a child whose sleep schedule controls the volume of life around you.

3. Take the baby out - Go out and do the things that you did before. Take your baby with you. He/ she will be comfortable in social situations and hopefully not attached to your leg as they grow.

4. Germs build immune systems - For the love of God stop making people sanitize their hands before they're allowed to touch your baby. There is a reason the kid at school whose mother carries a full bottle of hand sanitizer is sick 3 times in a month.

D & R have followed all of these things and I am so grateful that there are other families like mine out there. Josiah is one of the most delightful babies and I am all the better for knowing his little family.

Recipe for Imperfect Parenting

My personal recipe for imperfect parenting:

1 cup of laziness   "I don't know you figure it out"

2 cups of lies   "you sing beautifully, keep it up"

1/2 cup of empty threats   "every bite on that plate or Santa takes back his gifts"

3/4 cup of sarcasm   "you're right, you know everything -4 isn't too cold for a skirt, go for it"

Another 1/2 cup of laziness   "I'm watching my show, you sound the letters out"

1 cup of fake sympathy   "are you okay? you know after you fell during a jump from one couch to the other"

3 tbsp of forced affection   "they cut me open for you, I want a hug damn it"

2 tbsp of giving in   "5 more minutes then it's definitely bedtime"

3 tsp of repetition   "stop grabbing his collar... Stop grabbing his collar"

1 tsp of giving up   "hey she's finally out... Wink wink." "I'm tired now." "yeah me too"

And pinch of acceptance   "my house looks like we resurrected a mammoth and let him roam around in here... Cool"

Bones

For the last year and a half Bones has been Isabella’s favorite show. Yes... Bones; find a dead, usually decayed body at the beginning and solve the murder by the end of the show. Do I have a problem with her watching things like that? No. There is only one show that we won’t let her watch, and that's The Walking Dead. Nearly everything else (other than nudity) is fair game. We communicate, showing her behinds the scenes clips and explaining how they make dead bodies out of jello and plastic skeletons like in the doctor’s office, or putting food coloring in syrup to make blood. She’s never had nightmares over anything she sees and we make a point of explaining new things to her right away, like gun safety or language being unacceptable for a kid to use. She never repeats swear words and never gets upset about what she sees on TV. While we don’t put on HBO and let her have at it, she will come and sit with me when my shows are on. Communication is the key in a marriage and I feel it is just as important in parenting. Well there's that, and I don't always want to wait until it's late to watch my shows.

 

Believing

The Christmas season is upon us and like every year so many things have come up that have prevented us from saving for it, dog incidents here, unexpected landscaping there. We get into this rut every year, never getting each other a gift under the tree. We had such high expectations for this year but it’s one of those 2 steps, 1 step kind of situations. We always ensure that there are at least 2 presents under the tree for Isabella: one from us, and one from Santa. The Santa one is important to me, letting her have that magical belief one more year. We play along, writing a thank you note for the foccacia bread she left for Santa saying that Tanker came out and shared it with him (something he really would do). One year later and she smiles ear to ear when she talks about the note. They only believe for a small percentage of their lives so why not encourage it as long as we can?