art lessons

The Princess loves to draw, to colour, to cut, to glue, to paint. I love all of that too, but because we don't have a studio or even a corner where I can leave a project out indefinitely I don't do it very often. And I hate to be interrupted when I'm painting, which doesn't make for a very good mommy.

Sometimes though, I give in to the constant refrain of "let's do a craft Mommy! Let's make a picture!"; and on Monday I pulled out some old watercolour supplies and taught the Princess how to use them. She blew my mind.



" the sea " watercolour by the Princess, January 2009



Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? (Cheap frame from Ikea - fabulous for displaying children's artwork)

Watercolours are the perfect medium for children. The mess is minimal, and they are entranced by the way the paint glides and flows on the paper. Besides, the best results come with loose free strokes, which is natural for them. If you know a child who loves art, this is what you should get them for their next birthday.

A few tips: 1. buy a watercolour block, which is a pad of paper that is glued all around the edges except for a small section where you can slip in a knife and pull each finished painting off once it's dry. This keeps the paper stretched and flat.

2. And real paint. It doesn't have to be expensive, but get a student quality set from an art supply. Pans are better than tubes for little ones.

3. The paper can take a lot of water, have them brush clean water over the entire surface of the paper before starting.

4. The paint will dry lighter, so if they want vivid colour, have them load it on.

5. Give them some salt (I like sea salt best for this, but experiment!) to sprinkle in the wet paint to make a speckled effect.

6. Although some pigments are more permanent than others, sometimes paint can be removed from the paper by wetting and blotting with a tissue or paper towel (Q-tips are good for small areas)

Let me see your kids' best work. I love all of it.

All she wants for Christmas....

The Parade is next weekend. Ergo, we need our letters ready to deliver. I sat down with the Princess to make her list, and quickly realized that a new strategy was needed. She doesn't just want a Barbie, she wants a Hannah Montana singing concert Barbie. It would've been tortuous for me to watch her painstakingly print that out, letter by letter, while simultaneously trying to keep Bad from sabotaging her efforts. So, compromise. A little printing practise, a little cut and paste.

She also wants a Strawberry Shortcake castle but she's been warned that Santa has a lot of kids to make presents for, and all the kids have to share. I also told her that sometimes Santa brings wonderful surprises, because he has even better ideas for toys than we do. (There's a limit to the amount of money and effort I'm willing to put into procuring cheap plastic toys. Bah Humbug!)

For the girl

This morning as we were putting on our coats and shoes for the walk to school, the Princess piped up, "Mommy? How about for a special surprise you clean this closet while I'm at school?" She's DEFINITELY my child.

She hates it when she can't get in to find her things on her own. Closet space is a constant problem in this house. There wasn't a coat closet at all when we first moved in. The old owners walked halfway through the house and hung their things in the kitchen. We turned THAT cupboard into a much needed pantry, and we punched a doorway through to the front room and stole 3' from it to create a powder room and a small walk-in closet.

The closet helps a lot, but it needs to hold an awful lot of stuff. Especially during the spring and fall, when the weather can go from 'jeans and tees' to 'snowsuit and mittens' and back again overnight. Add in the purses and school bags, my sewing machine, extra boxes of kleenex...all in all it can be an organizational nightmare.



But for now, it's beautiful...and it will stay that way, at least until Hubs gets home.



And how do you like my new boots? Hubs thinks they're a little muk-luk-esque, but they're fuzzy and soft inside, which is perfect for someone who hates to be cold and hates to wear socks.

Supermom?

Or crazy? The Princess has been wanting to have a 'tea-party', so today we invited her two best girl-friends over for a Princess Playdate. They played dress-up, made crowns, and decorated Polly-Pocket Princess cupcakes. I'm exhausted.

You think one princess is trouble? Try three!

Lost in concentration....

Ta da!

The Boo-boo

I was in the kitchen yesterday afternoon, trying to prepare dinner before we left for swimming when I heard the Princess cry. It wasn't the sad cry. It wasn't the angry cry. It wasn't the "my baby brother is trying to be in the same room with me so I'm gonna throw an all out schizoid temper-tantrum fit" cry. It was the hurt cry. The real, true pain cry. I was halfway down the hall to the living-room when reached me. I could see, from 4 feet away, the cut below her eye. I could see that it was deep, and below it the river of blood flowing down her cheek, her chin. Splashing onto her shirt, her pants, her socks, the floor. She'd fallen while playing and hit her face on the edge of the bookshelf.

I scooped her up, and sat her on the kitchen table while I searched for a clean cloth to dampen and hold to her face. I held her with one arm and kissed and shushed her while I reached for the phone. I left deranged messages on half a dozen answering machines around the neighbourhood (hey, I don't like to worry and panic alone!) before finding a neighbour to come and watch Bad so that I could drive my Princess to the emergency room.

She didn't want to go, and she refused to leave until I changed her clothes. I told her how nice the doctors were there, that she'd been there before when she was a baby. She was very worried when I couldn't promise that she would have a girl doctor. But she's a tough cookie, and she stopped crying, and she held the cloth to her face. She fell asleep on the 15 minute drive.

All the emergency parking spots were full, never a good sign, so I had to park in the Visitor's lot and carry my girlie across to Emergency. After a short interrogation by the triage nurse we registered and sat down to wait. It was almost 2 hours before we saw the doctor, but the Princess had a good time. There were storybooks in the waiting room, and she had her mom's lap all to herself. In the examination room we played I Spy, and practised counting, and we sang all her favourite songs.

Finally Dr. Tall, Dark and Handsome arrived. He was as gentle and soft-spoken as could be. The Princess smiled, and answered his questions, and followed his finger so he could check her vision. She didn't flinch as he felt all the bones in her cheek. We'd been waiting so long that the cut had already started to close on its own, and because it was horizontal, and straight (apparently that's much better than a vertical cut), and because of her age, he didn't want to stitch or glue it. He gave me a list of instructions: Don't wash the cut for a couple days until it's good and dry. Squeeze a vitamin E capsule and rub onto the scar at bedtime for the next few months, and make sure there is SPF 50 on that area whenever we're out in the sun at least until July or August. She shouldn't have much of a scar.

Then Dr. Tall, Dark and Handsome did the unthinkable. He took out a tiny little band-aid and gently applied it to her face. The Princess freaked. She protested and cried, her little body shook with the sobs. Dr. Tall, Dark and Handsome looked from his previously brave patient to me with no small amount of shock. "I'm glad I didn't have to do stitches!" He didn't know what was wrong. I guess only I could hear the words coming soft and low between her sobs. "That's a boy band-aid mommy! It doesn't match my outfit!"

We stopped at Shopper's on the way home for Disney Princess bandages, and as I gave my Princess an extra hug last night at bedtime, she squeezed me hard and whispered, "I love you Mommy. These boy doctors just don't understand about girls!"

No bikini for Badness

I was holding my shirt up and lamenting the condition of my stomach to Hubs this morning. "I knew that the skin would never be the same after Bad was born, but I think it might be getting worse now that I'm losing weight. I think the fat was helping to plump things out. It's saggy and wrinkled! Wah!!"

Hubs lifted his shirt and patted his own tummy and said, "I think your tummy's cute, but you don't have the sexy firmness I do."

"I want skin like the Princess!" I whined.

I hadn't realized that the girlie was listening in until she piped up, "Mommy, but my skin is SO soft!"

"I know....that's why I like it." I crouched down to look at her and she patted my cheek. "Don't worry mommy, you can touch my skin!"

"I can?"

"Sure!" And off she pranced, having solved all the problems of the world.

I want skin like the Princess....wah!!! And I could do with a dose of her attitude, too.

Badness Goes Granola

Okay, not really. But I made some. Granola is one of those foods that I could just never really see the point of. The stuff that comes in the box? Tastes chemically. The powdery looking stuff at the bulk food store? Meh. But then....I made some. And today I made some more. Mmmm....

I've been eating 1/3 cup for breakfast with 1/2 cup of yogurt. On Friday the Princess said to me, "You have to eat something else for breakfast! You ate that day after day after day after day! The next day you have to eat something else. Promise Mommy...." I was out, so I ate something different for the last 3 days, but tomorrow.....

Here's the original recipe - change it as you see fit. I made a fruitless version, just augmenting the amounts of the other ingredients a little, and added chopped crystallized ginger....mmm.....

2 cups oatmeal (I used 1c. oatmeal, and 1 c. spelt)

1/2 cup wheat bran

1/2 cup sesame seeds

1/2 cup coconut

1/2 cup chopped hazelnuts

1/2 cup sunflower seeds

1/2 cup vegetable oil

1/2 cup honey

1 tsp cinnamon

dash salt

dash vanilla extract

1/2 cup each chopped dried apricots, dried cherries and raisins

zest of one lemon or one orange

Preheat oven to 325 F. Combine oats, bran, sesame, coconut, hazelnuts and sunflower seeds in a big bowl.

Heat oil, honey, cinnamon , salt and vanilla in a small saucepan until blended and runny. Pour over oat mixture and combine well. Spread onto greased or parchment lined baking sheet and bake for 20 - 30 minutes, until rich golden brown. Remove from oven and stir in fruit and zest. Let cool, and break into pieces. Stores well in airtight container in pantry.

And here's a photo of the Princess with our latest Snow-girl.

And I've lost another pound!

Why? Why?!

This morning, much too early, here at the House of Bad:

Me: Princess? Where are you?

Princess: In the kitchen!

Me: What are you doing?

Princess: Shaking off my hands. They got wet.

Me: How did they get wet?

No answer

Me: Princess...how did your hands get wet?

No answer again, but I notice her eyes keep darting to my glass of water.

Me: (incredulous) Did you put your hands in my water?

Princess: Well it was right there!

Me: So? I don't put my hands in your drinks, do I? Why would you do that?

Princess: Mo-o-om! My hands were really not clean!

Me: And you think I want to drink your dirt?!

No answer

Me: If your hands catch fire and my drink is the closest source of water, you can put them in it. Until then, use the sink to wash them! Or get a baby wipe if you're lazy.....can you please take this glass to the kitchen and get me a new drink? And use a clean glass....

Princess: Ok mommy. That's just what I was going to do anyway.

Me: Hmm. Thanks.

I have a feeling it's going to be even harder to get down those 8 glasses a day now....yuck!

Your average evening at the House of Bad

Bedtime. We've brushed her teeth, put on her jammies, made sure all her Barbies are dressed and warm for the night, read 3 stories, and finally, turned out the light.

Princess: Mommy?

Me: Yes?

Princess: Do we have to wear socks even in summer?

Me: No. Go to sleep.

Princess: Mommy?

Me: What?

Princess: I'm going to dream about the beach. What are you going to dream about?

Me: Breakfast.

Princess: Mommy! You can't dream about breakfast! Pick a gooder dream!

Me: Fine. I'll dream about unicorns dancing on rainbows.

Princess: Good. That's a much gooder dream Mommy.

Me: Good night Princess.

Princess: Mommy?

Me: What?!

Princess: Do turtles have teeth?

Me: I have no idea. Stop talking.

Princess: Mommy?

Me: (through gritted teeth) Yes?

Princess: When I'm a grown-up I'm still going to live here with you.

Me: Fine. Will you please stop talking and go to sleep?

Princess: Mommy?

Me: What?!!

Princess: I love you.

Me: I love you too. Now stop talking to me and go to sleep already!

She did.

Snow Rage

The kids and I spent an hour outside building a snowman yesterday. The Princess was very excited, and very proud, because she rolled the biggest snowball all by herself. Snowmen have been a big deal around here this winter, because I was a bad mommy last year, when Bad was a newborn, and didn't take her out to play in the snow at all. All summer I heard, "but all my friends at little school know how to make a snowman Mommy....and I don't! When is it going to snow again? When? Do you PROMISE you will help me build a snowman? PROMISE?!"

Didn't she do a good job? It's the coolest snowman I've seen this year....

So maybe I'm angrier than I should be, but a couple of d**kheads decided to push and kick it over on their way home from school yesterday. I guess they thought it was funny to make a 4-year old shake with sobs that she didn't get to spend enough time with her snowman....that she didn't get to show it to her daddy....that it didn't get to melt on it's own 'like Frosty'. I guess it made them feel tough. They'd better just hope I don't catch them....I don't know what I'd do to them, exactly....but it needs to be bad....give me some ideas....?

Someone call a doctor....it's my heart

We've been having some discipline problems with the Princess lately. Tantrums, defiance, pushing her brother; all behaviours that are out of the norm for her. I think we got to the root of it this morning.....make that 3:30 this morning.

"Mom! Mommy!" I stumbled out of my bed and went to hers. Climbed under the covers and gave her a cuddle. Ten minutes later we heard a wail from the other room. I kissed the Princess's head and climbed back out of bed to go and feed the boy. As I left the room I heard an anguished cry:

"Mommy, you were mine first! You were mine first!" I picked Bad up and brought him into her room so that we could talk while I nursed him. (I tried to get some spousal assistance, but it was patently NOT forthcoming.)

"I like when you're with ME Mommy."

"I like being with you too sweetheart."

"You spend too much time being with Bad. I liked it when you were all mine."

"I miss having more time with you too hon, but your brother needs me. I love you both."

"When Bad be's naughty you pick him up and laugh and play with him. Why don't you do that when I be's naughty?"

Could I get some help picking my heart up off the floor and putting it back together now, please?

Weekly Winners - A Princess's View

Santa brought me just what I wanted!! A camera!! I booted Mommy right off the computer so I could join in the Weekly Winners Meme with Braden and Lotus. I know you'll be a lot more excited to see my photos than you would be to read more of Mom's ranting, rambling posts. So, ta da! Here it is, a Princess' eye view of the House of Bad.

My dad. Reading the newspaper. It takes him all day.

My brother Bad

My Grampa Pampa

Gah! Mommy without make-up! Before coffee! Avert your eyes!

My mom used my camera to take this one of me....obviously she doesn't know how to hold the camera still, but she kind of likes the effect. She says that's what I really looked like as I ran around the house hopped up on Christmas sugar.

I gotta go now....I'm supposed to be in bed! Bye!

Badness Jones' Emporium of Baked Delights....

My tummy hurt last night. After two days of baking and eating and cooking and eating and presents and eating and laughing and visiting and eating and eating and eating, I felt like my stomach was full of lead weights. I woke up this morning still full.

It was a wonderful Christmas. Santa came and spoiled my children. The expressions on their faces were priceless as they madly tore the paper off their gifts. I cooked a turkey dinner with all the trimmings for Hubs' family on Christmas Eve, and was in charge of dessert at my sister's house on Christmas day, so it felt like a bakeshop in here on the morning of the 24th.

Double Espresso Chocolate Torte

Apple Pie and Pecan Pie

Everything turned out wonderfully - I used orange juice as the liquid in the pastry, but I also used butter instead of shortening, and it was hell to work with. I'm giving you the recipe for the chocolate torte, because it was impressive and delicious, but also ridiculously easy and low effort.

On the Twenty's Signature Double Espresso Chocolate Torte

500g bittersweet chocolate, chopped (they recommend Callebaut, and that would probably make it even better, but I just used the extra-dark bars from President's Choice and it was still fabulous)

1 1/3 c. whipping cream

3/4 c. unsalted butter

6 eggs

1 c. sugar

3 tbsp. coffee liqueur

Preheat oven to 225 F. Butter a 10" springform pan, and line with parchment. Put chocolate in a large bowl. Heat butter and cream together in a saucepan just to a simmer, and pour over chocolate. Let sit 1 minute, and then whisk until smooth.

Whisk together eggs, sugar and liqueur and pour into chocolate mixture. Blend thoroughly. Pour into springform pan and bake for 2 - 2 1/2 hours until edges are set and center is still slightly soft. Cool at room temperature, then refrigerate overnight in pan before unmolding and cutting.

Eat. Moan with delight.

Christmas Dog

Is Santa still here?

No - but he brought exactly what she wanted.

OH - I cherish each and every one of your comments, but I would just like to register my astonishment that my last post, a post about the interior of my fridge, garnered more comments than anything else I have written here. I love you, but y'all are wierdos. Thank-you! I'm so relieved that it's not just me.

Another Day, another Party

The Princess had yet another Christmas party yesterday, this time at her "little" school. The Princess was invited as a special guest....being best friends with the teacher's son has its benefits. The party included a small concert, and never one to let a little thing like not having seen a rehearsal slow her down, the Princess chose to participate....the girl is a master of improvisation. Bad worked the room like a pro, giving parents and grandparents an excuse to say "ooh!" and "awww..." and "he's such a darling!". He hugged the legs of many strangers and would stop whatever he was doing to clap....a minute or so after everyone else did.

On the way home (only a block) the Princess went into full meltdown mode. She was exhausted, and over-sugared, and overwhelmed. She was crying and dragging her feet. I was being as patient and understanding as possible, and hushing "I know, you're tired, let's just go home, you can rest at home...."

She sucked in a big breath, wiped away a tear and sputtered, between sobs, "I've just had SUCH a big day....Mommy, I think I need a nice hot cup of tea..."

Don't we all. Merry Merry Christmas everybody! I hope Santa's nice!

Will somebody get me a kleenex?

The Princess is upstairs playing with a little girl from school....it's her first ever playdate with a school friend. It's her first ever playdate with another girl her age. She plays with my niece and god-daughter, but they're both a couple of years older, and all of my friend's kids are boys. The Princess calls them 'her boys', and she loves them dearly, but there is something different in this friendship she is developing with another girl. This friendship that she has made on her own, at school, away from my eyes and without my help.

My daughter is shy and cautious, the crazy drama queen that lives inside her takes a while to come out to play. When I first went back to work when she was one, I sent her to a home daycare. After a couple of months the Princess started to cry as soon as she saw me dressed in work clothes. I tried to talk to her caregiver about why she was suddenly unhappy, and was told that my baby was anti-social. Needless to say, the Princess wasn't there much longer. That barb stuck in my head though, and I worry more than I should about how she's faring socially. I know that she loves school, that children come up to us at the park and around town and cry "Hi Regan!". That should be reassurance enough that she is fine, but I find I want more.

I'm listening to their little girl voices whispering and giggling as they try on princess dresses and jewels, and I've got tears in my eyes! The princess is so sweet, and so big. She took her friend by the hand when she arrived, and showed her around the house. She said "Sal is my dog, don't worry, she likes kids." When did this happen? When did she stop being a baby? I am so proud of the person she is becoming....who knew a playdate could make me this happy?

The Gospel According to Dora....

Ok, maybe I'm opening a can of worms here, but here's an old story, the back story, and a question. Old story first:

On Good Friday, I had to explain to the Princess (then 3 1/2) why there wasn't any school. "Well today is the anniversary of the day Jesus died.....do you remember who Jesus was?"
"No Mommy." Shit. Mother of the Year slips my grasp again.
"Well, I'll have to get some stories about him to read to you."
"OH! MOMMY! I'll get my Dora book! It has sooo many stories! Maybe there's one about Dora and Jesus in there!"

Don't worry, I already feel the shame. How could this have happened? The backstory:

Hubs and I were both brought up nominally Christian. Hubs went to the Anglican church as a kid, and then went to a Christian boarding school. Which turned him off religion forever. The story of the school's closing was recently picked up in the Globe and Mail - search 'Grenville'....they'll explain better than I can. (to clarify - Hubs was miserable there, and feels religion was used as a weapon, but he didn't suffer or witness the abuse mentioned) I have less excuse. Hubs is happy for me to take the kids to church....he wants me to, he just won't come. I suspect that he wants me to take them so that he can be alone with the television for an hour. I haven't taken them, even though the church is literally across the street and down two houses, because I am tired and don't want to add to the time I spend alone with my children. I like hanging out with Hubs on Sunday. I like leaving the kids in his care and lounging on the sofa with coffee and a book.

And that brings us to the question:

After the Easter incident, I bought a few books to read to the Princess, a story about Noah, and a children's bible, but she really wasn't interested. The question got pushed to the back of my mind. Christmas is bringing it back to the forefront. How do I educate her about religion? To be clear, my worries are educational and for her soul. She has beautiful manners and morals, you have only to look in her eyes to see that her soul is pure. If there is a heaven, she will go there. My own beliefs are tentative, un-formed - I don't want my children to follow in my footsteps, but to make up their own minds. However, I want them to have a background, a basic knowledge, of the bible and its stories....so much of literature assumes this of its reader that it is vitally important. If I can impart the right background, they will have what they need to decipher the metaphors around them and make their own decision about God. But....how do I do that? Do I need to take them to church? Every Christmas Eve I let the kids open a present - and it is always new pyjamas and a storybook. This year one of the books is the Christmas story. It's a start. What else can I do? What do you do?

A Plague upon the House of Bad

Oh alright...so it's just some kind of nasty cold virus. But Badness has been up coughing the last few nights, by yesterday morning he had a low-grade fever and was dripping disgusting green mucus out of his nose. Come late afternoon the Princess and I were sporting fevers, and I have that tell-tale scratchy tickle in my throat. I didn't get much sleep. At one point in the night when we were nursing, Badness had a coughing fit and accidentally bit down so hard on my poor nipple that it still has the marks.

I commented somewhere that I was going to try to post photos this weekend, and Sarcastic Mom suggested I join in on her Weekly Winners meme, but I never did get the camera out. I promise that I will do it one day soon. In the meantime, go and have a look at what less lazy people did.

I'll leave you with just one more whiny complaint - Hubs wouldn't get up with the kids this morning, and I had to make my own sick tea......poor old me.

Photographic Negative

So I had this bright idea that I could snap the kid's photos for our Christmas cards myself....

Will you please sit still?



Now smile!

I said SIT STILL!

Does this look like sitting still to you?

Sigh.

I'll make an appointment with the photographer next week.

First Snow

By February I'll be telling you that I hate snow....but today I have nowhere to go, there's hot chocolate in the house, and I love this:

and this....

and this.

Remembrance Day

This post is a day late. I wasn't sure how to approach it until I was leaving a comment on Victoria's Veteran's Day Post. I thought about posting Flander's Fields, as my daughter has been asking me to recite it daily all week, but you all know the words - or you should. If you don't, let me know. I can post it.

There was an old man selling poppies outside of the grocery store. Not pushy, not even asking anyone to purchase. Just standing proud and erect outside in the cold. Smiling. Whistling and singing old songs. A few words to anyone who stopped, helping them pin on their poppy. The princess wanted a 'flower'. We put the groceries in the car, pushed the cart away, and walked back to the entrance. I gave the Princess a toonie and lifted her up so that she could put the coin in the old man's box. He smiled and gave her a poppy. Took a second one and pinned it to Badness's vest. "I think this young man should wear one too."

How do you explain to a 4-year old the meaning of Remembrance Day? The significance of that poppy? We talked about freedom, about everyone being the same on the inside, no matter the colour of their skin. We talked about everyone deserving the same chances, the chance to hope and dream and work and have a family. About people who tried to take those chances away from others. About the men who went to fight and the boys who died.

I have one photo of the Princess with her great-grandfather. (It predates my digital camera, and I don't have a scanner so I can't post it.) They were born 100 years apart. He was Hub's grand-dad. He was born in Hungary. He was Jewish. When he was about the same age as Hubs is now, with a wife and little children, he was taken from his home and put in a work camp. He never spoke about it. His wife once cut meat off a dead horse to feed her babies. She bribed guards to rescue her mother from the Jewish ghetto. She baptized her babies Catholic to give them a better chance to survive. And she never spoke about it. I can't imagine the horrors that they survived. I don't want the Princess to have to imagine them, but I do want her to grow up thankful that people fought so that she could live a better life.

I took the Princess to the hospital to say good-bye to her great-grandfather before he died. She was younger than Badness is now. She was born in the days following SARS and as I carried her to his room strangers hissed at me that I shouldn't have the baby in the hospital. But when we reached his room Grand-dad looked at her, reached out his hand and smiled. He struggled with dry lips that hadn't tried to speak in days to say her name. He loved her. He was glad she'd come. That was the last time he spoke. A child has the power to heal.

Our children and their precious childhood are our gift from those we remember. It is hard to talk about those horrors, to explain what this day is about. It was a long time ago. But it is important that they understand, and never take what we have for granted.

Thank-you. I won't forget.