Midnight Fashion Crisis

"MOmmy! MOmmy! I can't fall back a'seep!"

A hug quickly reveals the problem - her Pull-Up has caused a wardrobe malfunction. I pull off her bottoms and sit her on the loo while I go to get fresh ones. Half-asleep, she opens one eye to see what I've brought and completely WIGS OUT.
"Aren't you going to change my top? I WON'T MATCH! MOmmy! WAAAAHHHHH!"

Needless to say, I changed her top. But it is in this spirit of fashion-consciousness that I bring you the following photo retrospective of the Princess's groovier looks.

Happy Hallowe'en everyone!

Trying on the hand-me-downs!

First Hallowe'en - (A sheep, and a wolf in sheep's clothing, har har)

Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree

The Princess's Costume - Take Two

Actually, she's still going to wear the pink wig and princess gear tomorrow night. Our dog, Sally, is going to wear the purple wings and tutu to accompany us trick-or-treating as the

Fairy-Dog-Mother. Hubby groans at me whenever I say that, but my sense of humour has always been a little off. I promise to post photos!

Costume 2 is just because the Princess has a dance-a-thon and ANOTHER Hallowe'en party today. Hubby conveniently, for him anyway, had to be out of the house early for a training session. So it was left to me to talk the girl out of wearing her long princess dress and into wearing some fairy accessories that would be less likely to trip her up while dancing. As you can see, we also had to find a matching costume for DW, who is accompanying the Princess to school for show and tell. Because it just wouldn't do for DW to be sad that she was the only girl without a costume, now would it?


Of course, the Princess needed face paint. " ALL fairies have sparkles and hearts on their cheeks - don't you know that mommy?" Right. What could I've been thinking? I didn't have anything in the house except a tube of white face paint from her ghost costume last year, so I just mixed that with some food colouring and voila! Yes, sometimes my brilliance amazes even me. But if you're going to ignore the school's demands for baked goods, you have to at least get the costume right.

My little wierdo...

This afternoon in my livingroom....

Princess: "Mommy, do you want to play Lego with me"

Me: "Sure. What are we building?"

Princess: "An African American" (wtf?)

Me: "um....how do you make an African American?"

Princess: "You have to put all the blocks around in a circle" I start laying blocks down in a curve "NO Mommy. The ends have to be together."

Me: "Ok, but then you can't make a circle"

Princess: "Oh. That's okay. We'll make a SQUARE African American"

Me: "Princess? You know that an African American is a person, right? It means someone of African descent. Someone whose grandparents came from Africa. Somebody who has dark brown skin instead of light pink like ours.

Princess: "FINE Mommy. But this is the OTHER kind of African American."

she glares at me in silent challenge

Me: "So we just line all the blocks up in a square?"

Because we all care...

I stumbled upon this post of Victoria's while reading Heidi's blog. I left a lame comment, but it really touched me because I'm feeling something similar today. Sadness for the pain of someone I don't know. One of the guys on my husband's rugby team was in a serious car crash and is lying in a coma with serious brain damage. He's 19. He's still a boy. He should be running around the field and studying and laughing and chasing girls and partying with friends. Not lying in hospital in a tangle of tubes and wires with an uncertain prognosis. This is a boy I've never met. I've never met his family. But I feel for them.

I don't know any of the details about the crash, don't know whether he was at fault. It doesn't matter. When I think of the stunts I pulled at 19.... And that could so easily be my son someday. My Badness. With his joyful and fearless attack of each day, each challenge. That could be my baby. Today it's not, but he's someone's baby, and I wish I could stop it. I wish I could help.

Victoria mentioned that her sadness felt somehow false, but I don't think that's true. We all grieve for those we don't know - in large scale disasters like Katrina and 9/11, and in small, personal tragedies like these. This feeling of love and sadness for others is what motivates us to help strangers, provide charity. Everyone benefits from that outpouring of love.

So if you can, say a prayer today, to whatever God you hold dear; or just send some waves of love and hope to these families you don't know. Maybe they'll feel it.

Updated 10/29 - The husband made a lot of noise when he came to bed last night. Shook the whole bed when he got in. Yanked the covers so hard that he stole the bit I'd already warmed up and left me with the cold edge. I could feel him looking at my back. "Are you awake?" he whispered.
"Well NOW I am" I snapped back.
"The kid died tonight. Davis."
"Oh babe." I whispered, rolling over, reaching for him. "Oh baby I'm sorry"
"He was a good kid....and he went out to get groceries....and he's dead." The husband's voice cracked. I reached over to stroke his face, and felt a tear steal down his cheek.
We held each other for a long time last night. Sometimes talking, mostly not. We grieved for someone else's boy. A boy we didn't really know. We shed silent tears for his parents, who've had their only child ripped from them just as he was on the cusp on being a man. And when our boy woke up in the night we were so glad. And we lay him between us, so we could just watch him breathe. And be thankful.

Go hug your children. Squeeze them tight.

Channelling the Village People

Had to run out to the drugstore this afternoon. Asked the Princess if she wanted to come along for the walk.

"Yes mom! I'm ready!" She stands at the door in green and white striped tights and a pink tutu.

"You can wear the tutu, but let's put another skirt on underneath it. Grab your shoes - do you think you need a coat?"

She steps out onto the porch. "It's okay mom! I'm not cold."

I'd put a long-sleeved t-shirt on her this morning, and somewhere along the way she's acquired a purple hoodie, and it's done up to the neck.

"Alright - I'll throw your vest into the stroller in case you decide you want it."

Off we go. Grab what we need, and since we're there I decide to look around at the cosmetics to see if there is any garish 'princess' make-up on cheap.

"Do you like this blue eyeshadow?" I ask, looking around - and there's the princess. She's taken off her sweater, apparently the t-shirt I thought she was wearing is on the floor of her room, and she's dancing around the aisles of Shoppers Drug Mart in a tutu, with a bare chest and a pink suede, fur-trimmed vest.

What else can I say? I wish I'd had my camera

A Princess, a Frog, and a Cupcake

Thanks for the kind and supportive words today! Just wanted to let you know that the day finished a lot better than it started. Both my lovies had a fabulous time at the party, and when I saw them in their costumes, soooo excited, it reminded me why I drive myself half-mad with make-work projects like cupcakes.

The Purple Princess and her Frog

btw - should anyone else out there be faced with making treaties for your children and their peers, try my new discovery: I used a vanilla cake mix, but since I didn't have much milk in the fridge I used orange juice for the liquid in both the cake and the icing (1 c. butter, 3 1/2 c. icing sugar, 1-4 tbsps o.j. and 1 tsp. vanilla) and they were yummy yummy. Couldn't figure out what they tasted like at first and then it hit me: Creamsicles. Creamsicle cupcakes.

Mommy Dearest?

I am such a bad mom. Not everyday. Most days I'm actually a pretty good mom. My kids get to do crafts, we bake - even from scratch! , I take them on outings, and play with them in the park. We read together everyday. They eat healthy meals almost everyday. I do these things with them because I enjoy it, and I love them.

But today, I have been a bad mom. A really bad mom. I could make excuses - between Badness's 2+ wakings a night and the 3 times nightly pee breaks during pregnancy I haven't slept through the night in over 18 months. Last night was particularly bad. But this morning I just lost it. Badness wouldn't go down for his morning sleep - the nap he ALWAYS goes down for, and easily. The nap I count on. The nap I needed him to take. And he was so cranky. He kept fighting me to be put down and then he'd immediately look around and cry because he wasn't in my arms. And I had a few things that had to be done. This morning. Stupid things. Stupid g*damn pumpkin-face cupcakes for one of the girl's Hallowe'en parties this afternoon. And I fed everyone else breakfast but did I get to eat? No. And I can't do anything when the boy is awake, he's into everything. He learned to climb up and down the stairs this week and I don't have gates yet. He's obsessed with the dog's dishes. He learned to open the bottom drawer on the stove this morning and he climbed right in. And now I know I have to clean in there, too. Add it to the list.

So I stomped and screamed, and dumped him in the playpen while he wailed so I could finish the cupcakes and clean up, and the princess came in to say "Mommy, I'm thirsty". So I yelled at her too. And she started to cry.

I threw down the dishcloth and I sat on the floor and cried. Bawled. And I went and got my kids and I held them and kissed them and told them I was sorry. I let them 'swim' in the tub, and I made them lunch. Badness finally went to sleep and here I am confessing to you, dear blogosphere, instead of doing any of the things on my long long list. Because you won't interrupt me until I am finished having my say. And because I love your comments, but I can delete your thoughts if I don't like them. I wish husbands were so easy.

I am blessed with children that are not only healthy and perfect, but beautiful, sweet and bright. I don't think I deserve them. I want to crawl back into my bed, pull the covers over my head and stay there until the world looks better. But I can't do that. Because I'm the mommy. Because there is a Hallowe'en party this afternoon. I have to get dressed, do my make-up, put up baby-gates, pick-up toys, clean the bathrooms....and the drawer under the stove.

And the winner gets......to get some sleep?

The middle of the night. My house. I spent almost 2 full hours trying to get Badness to go back to sleep in his crib, 2 hours of crying, of nursing, of lying on the floor beside his crib holding his hand through the bars. 2 hours in which, innumerable times, his eyes would close, his body still, his breathing become slow and regular while slowly I would count. If I could get to a hundred, it would be safe to leave. Innumerable times I got to about 84 and he would force himself to sit up and resume the fight. Finally, after almost 2 hours, I gave in. I needed to sleep, I needed him to sleep. I held his body to mine and lay down with him on the double bed in his room. For a moment his body shuddered as the crying ceased. We lay still, together, at peace.

And then....the boy sat straight up, looked at me in the moonlight, gave me a smile worthy of the angels, and stuck his right hand straight up in the air. High Five!

"Nice try, buddy, but it isn't going to happen. You may have won but this time I wasn't playing on your team."

Step away from the shower, and nobody has to get hurt....

Badness was up at 5:00 am today. And he was foul. All the noise he made woke his sister up. At 5:42 am. Neither of them was going back to sleep. Hubby, as per usual, slept through everything.

So, I stagger downstairs with my children and after a first bleary-eyed cup of coffee, get everyone fed. And dressed. Get the princess's lunch ready for school. Around 8:00 they are miraculously playing nicely and I sneak upstairs to wash my face and get dressed. Inevitably, the peace doesn't last and I am forced to run back downstairs to screaming and cries of "Mommy! Mommy! He's touching my toys! ". Because hubby is still sleeping. Once everyone is calm and happy again, I look at the clock. 8:24. I really have to finish getting ready. I run back upstairs, but the bathroom door is closed and I can hear the sound of water running. WTF?! I stand there, in jeans and a bra, slack-jawed, silently cursing the man I married.

How DARE he get in the shower now?!

I threw on a t-shirt and grabbed my make-up to put on downstairs under the crummy, unflattering light in the powder room. But I feel I was completely justified in turning on the dishwasher and flushing an empty toilet 4 times.

And he was STILL in the shower at 8:48 when we finally got out the door to run to school. He didn't even say good-morning to the princess, let alone good-bye, or have a nice day.

And when I got back from dropping her off, there he was - enjoying his breakfast and paper - and with the gall to say to me "Hi sweetie, are you okay? You don't look so hot."

AARGH!!!

Sweet Child of Mine

Last night I was putting Badness to sleep when I saw my little girl in her pjs standing quietly in the dark in the doorway of her room.

"Just a minute", I whispered. "I'll be there in just a minute"

After I'd put the boy down, I tiptoed into her room and crawled into her bed. She turned to look at me and smiled. "I was waiting for you mommy, I got you a guy" she whispered in a sleepy voice. And handed me a stuffed donkey. (Her stuffed toys have been 'her guys' for as long as I can remember.)

I rubbed her back for a minute and said "Good-night sweetie, sweet dreams"

"I love you mommy, can I please have a hug?"

She was asleep before I let go. I love you too princess.

Sibling Rivalry

How do you meet everyone's needs, once you have two...or more? The princess has been pretty good to her brother, though it's getting harder now that he's asserting himself and behaving less like a doll. Sometimes she'll ask me to put him down for his morning nap (at all times of day!) or even "Put that baby in a drawer!" so that she can have all my attention. It breaks my heart. She is pretty low maintenance for a 4 year old. She's always been an 'easy' child to care for. Happy to play on her own, listens to instructions, etc. The boy? Not so much. I spend so much time attending to him, not only with the feedings and diapers that all babies need, but also rescuing him from trouble a hundred times a day. Yesterday I was reading 'Olivia' to my girlie, and had to put it down 3 times to grab Badness. It's not a long book.

I know that this baby stage will pass, but I want to do everything I can to help them develop a close and loving relationship that will last into adulthood. My younger sister and I are very close, she's one of my very best friends, and I would like this for my children. I know that my husband loves his sister, but he doesn't always like or respect her. It sometimes makes me cringe when I hear how he speaks to her, and about her. Even to his mother, who never speaks up to defend either of them when they get started with insults and arguing.

Life isn't fair, and I'm not going to make myself crazy trying to make things equal for them. But I do want to try to strike a balance, to make sure they both know how much they are adored, and to make sure that the princess gets all the mommy time she needs, because I know she wants it even though she doesn't scream as loudly as her brother.

The Quest for More Space

We live in a lovely old house. A hundred years plus old. And while there are a lot of things I love about our home; great big rooms, high ceilings and 6' high windows that flood those rooms with light, there is also a distinct set of disadvantages. Built-in storage, where it even exists is poorly laid out and insufficient. Hence, I spend a disproportionate amount of my time moving our belongings from room to room.

Part of this, of course, is just a fact of the daily toy migration. But I'm also always looking for a better home for everything, a better solution. I'm devoted to baskets and containers, I'm always trying to re-organize something. I'm a faithful supporter of Goodwill, and it feels like I'm carting bags off there every other week, but I have a sneaky suspicion that our junk is following me home and sneaking in when my back is turned.

My hubby has a home business, (anyone in need of industrial supplies, please phone!) and needs a good amount of space for storage and his office. He has complete run of the basement, which is unfinished and spidery so he's welcome to it. Unfortunately, although the bedrooms are all large, there are only three of them. So until a few weeks ago the kids were sharing a room and Mark had his office upstairs. The problem with that was when Mark stayed up until the wee hours of the morning working, which he does most nights, the light and noise kept me up. And Badness doesn't need help from anyone else on that front....

So. Everything from the playroom got moved into the dining half of the living/dining room. After all, we have small kids - we don't dine, we shovel in cold food when we've finished attending to their needs. The office got moved downstairs. The third bedroom got painted purple, and the princess has now got her own room complete with ensuite facilities. Her room looks great. The rest of the house is a mess. And poor Badness is still stuck with pink roller blinds and all the piles of crap that I haven't found a home for elsewhere in the house. And I don't know when I'll have time to fix it for him.

And now a word from our sponsors....

Since I named the blog for them, I thought I'd say a bit about my beautiful children. Anyone not interested in hearing a parent bragging about their offspring, now would be a good time to leave.

The Purple Princess - It was actually my friend Joy who owns and teaches at my daughter's Montessori school (which is fabulous by the way) who bestowed this moniker on her. She started there when she was just 2, after a less than wonderful experience at a local home daycare. Most children have a teddy or a blanket for security, mine had a purse. Each morning she would fill it with a new selection of things from home - socks (always purple), small toys, hair barrettes, and Joy's favourite on a frigid February morning: a purple polka-dot bikini "just in case". Most of her friends are boys, and she loves to get dirty and run and play at the park, she just likes to be properly accessorized while she does it. She is sweet and caring and funny as all get out. She also has a terrible temper, which I have to admit she gets from me.

Badness Jones - This has been the boy's nickname pretty much since he was born. I know I started it and although the 'badness' is self-explanatory, I don't really know where in my brain the 'Jones' came in. Although it seems like a negative title to give an infant, it is always said with affection. He's just a boy's boy. He was crawling by 5 months old, at 6 months he managed to climb into the wading pool face first. Every day I rescue him from the stairs, the dog's food, the toilet, numerous pieces of furniture and toys..... The crazy thing is that EVERYONE loves him. He has an easy smile and an infectious laugh, and as long as he's the centre of attention he's always happy, friendly and fearless. He loves big kids, and I've taken him to playgrounds and had groups of bigger kids, 5 and 6 year olds, just sitting in a circle around him. He has big beautiful eyes, one is blue and one is half blue and half brown. And since the day he was born they've been constantly focused and alert. I dread the phone calls from girls when he hits puberty - he's already the world's biggest flirt.

Budding Picassos

Her Bad Mother posted some of Wonderbaby's current masterpieces and asked to see some of her contemporaries' work. Here are some by the Purple Princess. She can't get enough of paint, scissors, markers and glue. Unfortunately, she usually has to wait for Badness to nap.



A Series in Tempera on Paper called "The baby's not sleeping but my mom gave in"


Crayola Marker on Paper, entitled "The Jelly-pus"

And, my personal favourite:

A photo from a performance art piece entitled "No Mom, you CAN'T just run and throw the clothes in the dryer." From the princess's 'Blue' Period

How do they do it?

So yesterday, I started a blog. I started reading them at work when I was pregnant with Badness and I was too tired and sick to walk around the showroom when it was empty. There are quite a few that I read regularly, and those bloggers make me feel a little less alone in the house with the kids. Like this Mom thing is a shared experience. I have great friends, family and a loving if slightly pre-occupied hubby, but the middle of the day when everyone is at work or dealing with their own babies can be a really long time. What I want to know is, what do people do with their kids while they try to type? Try to think? I am hoping that writing here regularly will help me retain a few more brain cells. I'd like to be able to form an intelligent sentence on the rare occasions that I get out without the kids. I'd like to remember how to spell, to use alliteration and metaphors.....I want to find a little piece of the me that I was before I was their mom. Yesterday, the boy turned off the computer in the middle of my post and dumped the garbage can. He dumped the dog's bowl and I had to fish a handful of kibble out of his mouth. He pulled half hubby's binders out of the bookshelf....not that this is unusual behaviour for him, but it's a lot more frustrating when I'm trying to concentrate on something else. I can post while he sleeps, but then a whole lot of other things aren't going to get done around here.

Welcome Baby Ethan

My best friend had a baby this week. She was scheduled for a c-section at 7:00am, and although I thought of her when the kids first woke me, I soon got caught up in the chaos of our mornings. Get everyone dressed. And fed. Do the princess's hair for picture day. It's show and tell, so hold a final 'practice' run. Pack her backpack. And her lunch. We're running late again, throw everyone into or onto the stroller and run the whole way to school before the last bell rings.

It wasn't until after I got home, and was sitting quietly for a moment with Badness falling asleep at my breast, that I looked at the clock again. 9:34. And it hit me - Evie has her baby. And I don't know if it's a boy or a girl, or the weight, or even if everyone is healthy. And at the same time that I felt a rush of love and joy for my friend holding her new child, I felt a certain sadness at not being there, not being part of that incredibly special moment.

I squeezed my boy a little closer to me, and thought back to his first moments in this world. I think that he's our last and though he drives me crazy I want to try to cherish every day I have him. Exactly as he is now. And try to stop wishing he'd just grow up.

Congratulations Eve and Jose - we love you