It's nearly winter. At the very least, it's late, late fall. Christmas trees are up, frost often greets us in the morning and I've broken out the snow scraper when warming up my car at least twice. This means that feet should be socked at all times when walking around the house. I'm not saying we all need to wear sweaters and I'm not advocating for parkas on all outings. But I think socked-feet mean a warmer body all over.
Yesterday, I put dark blue socks on Cole first thing in the morning as he crawled out of bed. Shortly after breakfast, he removed one staking his usual claim that "it's wet" (which it never is). Amelia found the blue sock under a kitchen chair and happily chewed on it for a while (then it really WAS wet). While Cole watched cartoons during my shower in the morning, he took off his second blue sock and it became wedged between some couch cushions. Later it somehow found its way to Amelia's mouth too.
After Amelia's nap, one of her socks fell off in her sleep sack. By the time I noticed, we were in another room, so I found a lone pink sock from the laundry basket and threw it on her, not caring that they were mismatched.
In the afternoon, after Cole's afternoon nap, I put two striped socks on him. By supper, they were both in the living room on the floor and, you guessed it, Amelia was chewing on them too. Then I realized later that the pink sock in her mouth was not his but hers. She'd kicked one off in the high chair and she'd carefully brought the other foot to her mouth and pulled it off her foot.
At that point I gave up. It was probably fifteen minutes before bath time and I knew I'd lost the sock battle. I gathered the half dozen drool-sodden socks from around the living room and threw them into the hamper (or onto the landing near the basement steps). My socks were still on. I like having warm feet. And socks keep the discarded cheerios and crumbs from sticking to my feet. Why my kids kept driving me crazy like this I had no idea.
Then I was sweeping up after supper and I reached under the dining room table with the broom and discovered a small, neat lump under my husband's chair - his socks.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Lean On Me
Recently, I pulled out my old Ipod for a short run at the gym. When I was scanning through the playlists, I noticed one entitled Baby Roebuck. I remember compiling this seemingly-appropriate list of songs for my sister when she was pregnant with my nephew. One of the songs was Lean On Me.
You just call on me brother, when you need a hand,
we ALL need somebody to lean on....
And isn't that the truth?
We get into so much trouble when we try to do it all on our own. Or when we're too ashamed to ask for help. I guess when I chose this song for my unborn nephew's CD, the intended meaning was that he know that he could always lean on his parents and on me, his auntie, and on all of his family, no matter what life would throw at him.
But also, as a new parent, we often think we are supposed to be the new parent all alone. First we think that as a mom, we shouldn't need to ask our husband to get up during a night feeding to help us or just so we won't feel lonely. Then, even once we've accepted that we need to lean on our partner, we are hesitant about asking for other bodies to lean on. Mothers and Fathers and Sisters and Brothers and Parents-In-Law. It all goes smoother when we acknowledge that no one has to do it alone.
My friend, Jen, came to visit me today. I was talking to her about what it's like to be a parent. She knows my husband, but she knew him long before we got married and had children. It made me reflect on how much I've leaned on him since those first years that we knew each other and how much our relationship has changed. And I said to her, "Becoming a parent with someone is an opportunity to fall in love with them all over again, for totally different reasons." I guess the more you need to lean on someone and they don't let you fall, the more your love grows.
She told me this short scene she witnessed last Valentine's day:
She was at a nursing home where her parents live. Her father was away and she was there with her mother, in the common room, with a small crowd of other residents, listening to an accomplished pianist. Her mother was unconsciously moving her fingers to the melody, their muscles remembering the weight of the keys beneath them. Another lady was tapping her feet with the rhythm. Then, she saw an elderly couple, both with walkers. The old woman set her walker aside and so did the man. They reached for each other and began to dance to the music. They didn't need their walkers when they had each other.
Lean On Me.
You just call on me brother, when you need a hand,
we ALL need somebody to lean on....
And isn't that the truth?
We get into so much trouble when we try to do it all on our own. Or when we're too ashamed to ask for help. I guess when I chose this song for my unborn nephew's CD, the intended meaning was that he know that he could always lean on his parents and on me, his auntie, and on all of his family, no matter what life would throw at him.
But also, as a new parent, we often think we are supposed to be the new parent all alone. First we think that as a mom, we shouldn't need to ask our husband to get up during a night feeding to help us or just so we won't feel lonely. Then, even once we've accepted that we need to lean on our partner, we are hesitant about asking for other bodies to lean on. Mothers and Fathers and Sisters and Brothers and Parents-In-Law. It all goes smoother when we acknowledge that no one has to do it alone.
My friend, Jen, came to visit me today. I was talking to her about what it's like to be a parent. She knows my husband, but she knew him long before we got married and had children. It made me reflect on how much I've leaned on him since those first years that we knew each other and how much our relationship has changed. And I said to her, "Becoming a parent with someone is an opportunity to fall in love with them all over again, for totally different reasons." I guess the more you need to lean on someone and they don't let you fall, the more your love grows.
She told me this short scene she witnessed last Valentine's day:
She was at a nursing home where her parents live. Her father was away and she was there with her mother, in the common room, with a small crowd of other residents, listening to an accomplished pianist. Her mother was unconsciously moving her fingers to the melody, their muscles remembering the weight of the keys beneath them. Another lady was tapping her feet with the rhythm. Then, she saw an elderly couple, both with walkers. The old woman set her walker aside and so did the man. They reached for each other and began to dance to the music. They didn't need their walkers when they had each other.
Lean On Me.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Amelia with her homegirl, Jaime.
Nana and Amelia
Papa and Cole pause from their intense digging for a photo opp.
Cole got this cool doodle kit from Great Grandma and Great Grandpa Knorr.
Amelia "enjoying" her first snow fall in Peterborough this past weekend.
Cole and Porpor digging some snow.
Sibling love
Grandpa and Amelia
Kokum and Amelia
Monday, November 14, 2011
Nana: Out of Commission? I think NOT!
This has been a busy week. Cole's birthday resulted in a parade of visitors and family through our little home. We were lucky enough to have Nana and Papa most recently. But just a few days into their visit, Nana's hip began to bother her. Then it REALLY began to bother her. Then the pain moved to her back and then she could hardly get out of bed or walk.
This really, really, REALLY frustrated Nana. She loves to come visit and be like a saviour to us. She likes to zip around the house at about 200 km/hr tidying incessantly, picking up my kids, sporting my heavy baby in a front carrier, walking to the store and purchasing vast volumes of indulgences and bringing them home. And she IS incredibly helpful, so it really pained her that this injury was slowing her down.
Yesterday, while Nana was diligently taking her rest on the couch, flat on her back, so she could heal, I heard Cole ask her for the umpteenth time, "Nana, will you play with me?"
"What do you want to play?" she asked him.
"Hide and Go Seek!"
So, first, Nana counted and Cole ran and hid in the dining room, beside the folding door to the living room. From Nana's spot on the couch, there was no way she could see him. So she counted to ten and then Cole giggled from behind the door. Then he raced into the middle of the room and yelled, "HERE I AM!" and they both laughed heartily.
"Your turn to hide, Nana!" Cole yelled.
Nana was eating some popcorn, so she put the bag in front of her face while Cole counted. When he yelled, "Ready or not, here I come!" he saw her on the couch hiding behind the popcorn bag and began to giggle. He ran up to her and pulled down the bag and laughed and laughed and laughed.
So there you have it, not everyone can play hide and seek with a three year old when they're essentially immobilized. That is just ONE of Nana's many super powers.
This really, really, REALLY frustrated Nana. She loves to come visit and be like a saviour to us. She likes to zip around the house at about 200 km/hr tidying incessantly, picking up my kids, sporting my heavy baby in a front carrier, walking to the store and purchasing vast volumes of indulgences and bringing them home. And she IS incredibly helpful, so it really pained her that this injury was slowing her down.
Yesterday, while Nana was diligently taking her rest on the couch, flat on her back, so she could heal, I heard Cole ask her for the umpteenth time, "Nana, will you play with me?"
"What do you want to play?" she asked him.
"Hide and Go Seek!"
So, first, Nana counted and Cole ran and hid in the dining room, beside the folding door to the living room. From Nana's spot on the couch, there was no way she could see him. So she counted to ten and then Cole giggled from behind the door. Then he raced into the middle of the room and yelled, "HERE I AM!" and they both laughed heartily.
"Your turn to hide, Nana!" Cole yelled.
Nana was eating some popcorn, so she put the bag in front of her face while Cole counted. When he yelled, "Ready or not, here I come!" he saw her on the couch hiding behind the popcorn bag and began to giggle. He ran up to her and pulled down the bag and laughed and laughed and laughed.
Wednesday, November 09, 2011
A gift and a gift and a gift and a gift.....
A person very near and dear to my heart, who shall remain nameless (I'll call her Marguerite), sent along her birthday gift for my son, Cole, with my mother who was visiting today.
My mother handed me the big gift bag and inside was a clear plastic-wrapped package with a label affixed to it with birthday wishes written by Marguerite. I unwrapped the plastic wrap and inside was a bundled Little Chef set with a beautiful little apron, chef's hat and a tea towel. It was beautiful. And then I set it aside and found three more identical bundles of Little Chef aprons, hats and tea towels. Four identical gifts. Kind of odd.
So I e-mailed Marguerite and asked her if she'd accidentally bought 4 of the same gift. Or perhaps she'd intentionally purchased four, perhaps for some other kids she knew, and accidentally wrapped all four in Cole's gift bag. Or maybe she'd asked her husband to wrap the gift and he'd made the mistake.
She wrote back: I don't understand. Four of the same thing?
I tried to explain again but she didn't understand, so I phoned her.
We hashed it out and this is what we surmised must have happened:
The store receives these cute little chef outfits in bundles of 4 and they're supposed to be unwrapped when they're set on the shelf. Marguerite innocently picked up the package and went through the Self Check-Out. She scanned the bundle (well, the top one) and plopped it into her bag and away she went.
Buy one; get three free!
My mother handed me the big gift bag and inside was a clear plastic-wrapped package with a label affixed to it with birthday wishes written by Marguerite. I unwrapped the plastic wrap and inside was a bundled Little Chef set with a beautiful little apron, chef's hat and a tea towel. It was beautiful. And then I set it aside and found three more identical bundles of Little Chef aprons, hats and tea towels. Four identical gifts. Kind of odd.
So I e-mailed Marguerite and asked her if she'd accidentally bought 4 of the same gift. Or perhaps she'd intentionally purchased four, perhaps for some other kids she knew, and accidentally wrapped all four in Cole's gift bag. Or maybe she'd asked her husband to wrap the gift and he'd made the mistake.
She wrote back: I don't understand. Four of the same thing?
I tried to explain again but she didn't understand, so I phoned her.
We hashed it out and this is what we surmised must have happened:
The store receives these cute little chef outfits in bundles of 4 and they're supposed to be unwrapped when they're set on the shelf. Marguerite innocently picked up the package and went through the Self Check-Out. She scanned the bundle (well, the top one) and plopped it into her bag and away she went.
Buy one; get three free!
Sunday, November 06, 2011
Tuesday, November 01, 2011
How to Stop the Tickle Monster
In our house, the one and only way to stop the Daddy-Tickle-Monster is to say, "I LOVE YOU DADDY!" very loudly and clearly. I know one of my favourite memories of this time in our lives will be hearing Cole's laughter and then a desperate squeal of, "I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU, DADDY!" and then, "I can't hear you...." and "I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE YOU!"
I was touched the other day when Mark was tickling his little baby girl in his arms and she was giggling and Cole was eating macaroni at the dining room table and he looked up and shouted, "Daddy, I love you!" Was it out of reflex or was it empathetic? We'll never know, but I like to think that my little boy was rescuing his sister from the grips of the dreaded tickle monster.
Yesterday, I took the kids to the Sears Portrait Studio. I got them dressed up nicely and packed extra clothes into the diaper bag. I made sure they were both in good moods and I brought toys. We got to the mall early and I bribed Cole with the least messy and most healthy muffin I could think of (raisin bran) and I pumped myself up with a cafe mocha.
Once we were actually in the studio, Cole wasn't into taking off his shoes and socks. He wasn't into sitting on the white screen on the glowing "star" in the centre. He didn't want to follow any of our instructions and he CERTAINLY wasn't going to smile.
Amelia, on the other hand, would sit on the star, for a moment. Then she'd crawl off in one direction while Cole raced off in another. I finally said to Cole, "Can you sit on this star, please?" And he noticed that if he sat near the star, it disappeared. It was actually a light being projected down from up above somewhere.
"It keeps going away!" he exclaimed.
So the photographer grabbed a bright gold star from a Santa sack and held it up above her head. She started to try to be silly with the star to make Cole laugh. She was a punk chick, asian lady with too much purple eye shadow and when I started to sing the Fireman Sam song and she tried to sing along, it became clear she didn't know the words. But to her credit, she raced up to Cole and tried to pretend to tickle him with the star.
"I'm going to tickle you if you don't smile!" she teased.
And he began to laugh. And then he tried to hide behind me.
"I'm going to tickle you if you don't sit down!" she called.
And as she raced up to us with the gold star poised to tickle his belly, my little boy cried out, "I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!"
The photographer looked surprised and touched, "I love you, too, I guess."
I was touched the other day when Mark was tickling his little baby girl in his arms and she was giggling and Cole was eating macaroni at the dining room table and he looked up and shouted, "Daddy, I love you!" Was it out of reflex or was it empathetic? We'll never know, but I like to think that my little boy was rescuing his sister from the grips of the dreaded tickle monster.
Yesterday, I took the kids to the Sears Portrait Studio. I got them dressed up nicely and packed extra clothes into the diaper bag. I made sure they were both in good moods and I brought toys. We got to the mall early and I bribed Cole with the least messy and most healthy muffin I could think of (raisin bran) and I pumped myself up with a cafe mocha.
Once we were actually in the studio, Cole wasn't into taking off his shoes and socks. He wasn't into sitting on the white screen on the glowing "star" in the centre. He didn't want to follow any of our instructions and he CERTAINLY wasn't going to smile.
Amelia, on the other hand, would sit on the star, for a moment. Then she'd crawl off in one direction while Cole raced off in another. I finally said to Cole, "Can you sit on this star, please?" And he noticed that if he sat near the star, it disappeared. It was actually a light being projected down from up above somewhere.
"It keeps going away!" he exclaimed.
So the photographer grabbed a bright gold star from a Santa sack and held it up above her head. She started to try to be silly with the star to make Cole laugh. She was a punk chick, asian lady with too much purple eye shadow and when I started to sing the Fireman Sam song and she tried to sing along, it became clear she didn't know the words. But to her credit, she raced up to Cole and tried to pretend to tickle him with the star.
"I'm going to tickle you if you don't smile!" she teased.
And he began to laugh. And then he tried to hide behind me.
"I'm going to tickle you if you don't sit down!" she called.
And as she raced up to us with the gold star poised to tickle his belly, my little boy cried out, "I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!"
The photographer looked surprised and touched, "I love you, too, I guess."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
