Author Archives: So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

About So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

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I'm a bookworm, nature lover, kick-boxer, candy fiend, sci fi geek, home body, progressive Christian and part-time student. I love my crazy life and the messy, fun, stubborn, silly, brilliant people who populate it.
September 6, 2012

Still Holding Out for Normal

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

It’s called tempting fate. Opening my big fat mouth (or laptop) and waxing eloquent about how FABULOUS something is going to be (The Most Wonderful Time of the Year).

Maybe it’s a case of unrealistic expectations. Maybe it’s God keeping me humble, “Oh so now you think you’ve got it all figured out and don’t need me anymore?” …smite. Maybe it’s just life. Which is rarely as perfect as my daydreams.

As I prepared to embrace my first blissful full day of school, I made a crucial error. I set myself up for disappointment. I didn’t allow for that all-important adjustment period. You know, the weeks where I have to re-train the entire household to get off their butts and get their act together.

“What do you mean I have to take a drink to school? I’ve never taken a drink before.” Only every single day, always.

“My lips are really dry. I thought it was chapstick.” Bright red lipstick actually. Are we seriously dealing with this already, in Grade 5? I let her put blue streaks in her hair last week. Is this the slippery slope those pastors have been warning me about all these years?

“Everyone mismatches their socks Mom. It’s better that way.” I didn’t realize I was so out of touch. Thank you for informing me so graciously.

“Honey, your shoes are on the wrong feet, again.” Sheesh. Calm down. I love you just the way you are. You still look VERY pretty. Just leave them that way. We’re already running late.

2 head injuries, 3 wardrobe debates, 362 fishy crackers bagged, 1 leaking water bottle replaced, 4 minor sibling skirmishes and 5 really grumpy people piling into the van.

yay. school.

Let the bliss begin. Except little brother isn’t feeling it. At all. He keeps looking for his favourite entertainers/helpers/victims. What’s a boy to do with only boring old mom? Sure, we enjoyed more cuddles and book reading than usual. We played at the park and walked around the zoo and tried desperately to distract him from the fact that he really, really misses HIS normal.

So, I anticipated pick-up time. I counted down. I thought THIS would fix our day.

But B was at the end of her rope. She’s not used to such a long day away anymore. While she was enjoying her New Class, she isn’t quite as happy with her perfectly good New Teacher. She wants “Smelling!” (her grade 2 teacher). She wants a snack. She wants her blankie. She wants to watch a show. She wants to do anything but sit quietly while I make that all important First Contact with New Teacher. Who seems great, so that’s something.

Meanwhile, the boy is happily mauling his sisters. I think this means: “Hello. I missed you. Don’t ever leave me again.” But it feels a lot more like grabby, grabby hands, head butting and the occasional bite (ouch).

They are patient. But they are tired, too. And have a million things to tell me. Which I’m DYING to hear. Except there is only one of me. And the littles are melting down. And the garbagemen made a mess on our curb. And snack is REQUIRED IMMEDIATELY. And I wonder WHY I was looking forward to this…

We spend the evening corralling the boy, calming the weeping B, wiping up blood (when she picked open a bug bite on her face, and once again as she scraped her entire face on the side of the trampoline), encouraging our neighbour-friend who had a day of miserable-girl-drama for HER first day, assuring C that strict does not mean unkind (while secretly being pleased that she’ll be whipped into shape this year), discussing grade 7 grad plans with L (because it’s never to early to rub those fun plans in your sister’s face), and finally, shopping for some last-minute school supplies.

I was sure we had it all sorted out last week, but that’s just crazy-people thinking. There’s always something missing. I was so tired I went to the expensive dollar store. That’s right, there’s a MORE expensive one. A crazy splurge for me, but it is slightly closer and takes credit card. But even with two stops, I didn’t find everything. So we scrounged and rummaged and wondered where on earth all the stuff from last year went. I suspect the same place that our Wii remote, iPhone charging cord and DS player went (B likes to hide things put things away for me).

C will have to make do with my dictionary until I can find the “right” edition, which I’m pretty sure we’ve bought several times over at this point. I may have donated this last one to charity. Oops.

I try not to take it personally when she laughs and laughs at it being called the “New” Websters Expanded Dictionary. “It was made in, like, the 1900s Mom!”

AND I stubbed my toe.

So here’s me, and tomorrow I’m spending the day at Children’s Hospital with the boy. I’m pretty sure that’ll give me a boatload of perspective when it comes to all these petty irritations.

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September 4, 2012

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

Never has a hand-me-down been so happily recieved by a little sister.
B wore the sparkly backpack all day and screamed for joy when we wrote her name inside it!

The commercials show jubilant parents skipping down the aisle caressing the Back-to-School supplies as they go. Petulant children trudge behind looking depressed. It’s an office supply store’s dream come true.

Mine too.

I often feel a bit guilty to number myself among those excited parents, thrilled to see September on the top of the calander. I have friends who lament the end of summer days with their beloved children. And I wonder, do I enjoy my children less?

But, I felt this way back in the days of homeschooling, when the end of summer “holiday” meant not less, but more time and interaction with my offspring.

It’s NOT that I don’t like spending time with my kids. Though, in all honesty, every moment of hands on parenting is not blissfull and life affirming. Admittedly, I relish the idea of a quieter house and days where I don’t have to extend my bathroom breaks to protect my solitude-craving soul. But, I miss them too. And I hate not having the inside track on all the goings on. Despite my daily bribes, “you must tell me 3 things about your day before you get an after school snack”, I don’t hear about everything they are doing (or not doing… yes, I’m talking about that spelling homework, C).

I felt this way as a school kid myself. I loved the crisp white pages of an untouched notebook. I loved neatly lining up all of my supplies. I even loved packing that very first bag lunch of the year. What can I say, I’m a total nerd.

It’s NOT that I don’t enjoy the freedom of summer. Lazy mornings, trips to the beach, family holidays, letting Glen cook dinner for a change (sorry honey, I don’t know which button to push on this thing and you are SO good at barbecuing)… Every week brings some new adventures and the kids have time for uninterrupted play (the thing I miss most about homeschooling). This used to be elaborate forts and pretend games, but lately it’s been building sets and designing costumes for their latest movie.

The truth is, I miss normal. I miss routine. I miss predictable. I miss knowing what each day is going to hold. And I know my kids do too, though they claim loudly that the only good thing about it is seeing all their friends. They thrive when things go according to plan. Even my free spirit sleeps better and gets her chores done with minimal drama when things are back to normal.

We line up the pictures on B’s weekly calander and she can see which days are school and when she gets to go horseback riding or have speech therapy or swimming. She knows what happens next and she is so much better behaved. Just like her mom.

So, today as I snap the requisite “first-day-of-school” photo at the front door, it’s not the new backpacks and carefully considered outfits that put that hopeful smile on their faces (and mine). It is a giant sigh of Back-to-Normal relief!

So here’s me, definitely in need of a brand new notebook. It’s unnatural to be this jealous of a 7th grader.

3 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in parenting, school

August 28, 2012

Snot at the Fair

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

I’m sorry, okay. Consider this a blanket apology on behalf of my entire family to the world at large. Or at least everyone who attended the Fair yesterday.

For the germs.

For the snot.

For the coughing and sneezing and general whininess.

And the kids were even worse!

I swear, we were on the mend when we decided to make our way to the Fair at the PNE. Pretty much. Close enough. Because Dad being able to take a weekday off entirely AND the cousins planning to go that same day AND incredibly wonderful benefactors arranging for 2 of our 6 tickets to be free… are all goliath-sized motivators in our household.

So, we dosed them all up with Tylenol Cough and Cold. We brought water and fruit and our absolute faith that rides and mini donuts and as-seen-on-tv-kiosks and mini donuts and rigged carnival games and, yes, still more mini donuts are worth all the effort.

Rides are a new experience for our boy. From his perspective it seems to go something like this:

  • watching from behind iron bars while other children do something fun (not cool)
  • climbing onto a large contraption that smells, feels and IS a completely Strange and Unusual Experience (also not cool)
  • something’s happening, there is movement and this May Possibly Be Fun
  • after a full minute of Possible Fun it becomes clear that this is The Best Thing That Has Ever Happened To Him and He Never Ever Wants It To End
  • at which point the ride ends and we pry his fingers from the bar and drag our devastated toddler to the next round

Poor kid. He was a confusing mass of excitement, exhilaration and disappointment all day. But he loved the donuts.

B spent the day coveting every painted face she saw. Particularly the kitty-cats. It was cute when she meow-ed and pretended to groom the lady sitting beside us in the shade. But all day we distracted her from her quest to get “a kitty…uhhh… MY cheek.” Because history has taught us that face painting is Not Her Thing. And I hate, hate, hate paying for that sort of thing. If only I had some eyeliner and lipstick in my purse, I could have done it myself. Cause I’m that kind of mom (I was thinking inventive, but yes, cheap is also accurate). She had as hard a day as anyone. Waiting is hard for her and she was tired and feeling sick and more than anything she just wanted her very own cat on her cheek. On our way out of the park we finally gave it a shot. And she sat as still as I have ever seen her while the lady painted a little white cat with pink sparkles on her cheek. And she danced all the way to the van. By the time we got home, it was smudged beyond recognition. Still, it was the best $3 we spent that day.

C is FINALLY tall enough for the big kid rides. At 10, this has been a long time coming, and she is a whole 2 inches over the 48″ cutoff. So, we tried a number of the big rides (for which my husband considers me a hero, despite the fact that I usually love them even more than the kids, except not so much with a head cold and a fever, so I will hang onto hero status with both hands). She loved almost everything. Except the boat. She did NOT like the boat. And she wanted to get off it almost immediately. And it seemed to go on and on as I coached her through it and held her close and assured her it would be over soon. I felt like the worst parent ever born since I was the one who convinced her to try it. This is a girl who loves the coasters and the dropping elevator rides, but NOT the boat. She talked through the whole experience, expressing exactly how she felt and what she wanted and what she Never Ever Wanted To Do Again. Apparently all those “use your words” talks are paying off. What a trooper.

L is too tall for the elephant ride. And the mini cars. And the boats. So basically, a gigantic hulk of a child. Or a willowy preteen and we just have trouble admitting it. With her out of the mix, there were quite a few rides which were out of the question for our littles. Although when the mood is right, B is quite capable. And when it isn’t, she needs a good deal of coaxing and encouraging and holding onto her so she doesn’t leap from the still-moving ride. We miss our helper-girl. Though the helper-young-woman is pretty cool too. Plus, she likes to go on all the rides with her mom.

The Dad, well, he’s a hero because he spent a lot of money (not his favourite thing, at all), and he held the bags and entertained the littles and even used the baby change room on his own more than once. The only ride he likes is the log ride. Which is yet another reason why we are a perfect match. Because I’m NOT a fan of wet underwear.

So here it is; the moral of the story. The wisdom we have gleaned during this great adventure:

Enjoy every moment, for they are fleeting. The ride is over before you know it.

Have patience; don’t be in such a hurry. When you get impatient ,you only start to worry. Remember that God is patient too, and think of all the times when others have to wait for you (as sung in my head over and over again today thanks to one of my very first records “Music Machine”. Yes, record, as in vinyl. Sigh, I’m so very old… and cheesy).

Finally, and perhaps most importantly:

Fishy crackers are always the answer. Always.

So here’s me: my feet hurt, my nose is runny, and it is clear that this head cold is here for the long haul, BUT I’m glad we went. People like us are the reason hand sanitizer is a good idea in public places. So sorry.

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August 24, 2012

Friday Favourites 28

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

My 20 year high school reunion is coming up. Mine. Which is totally weird since I’m still a young adult. Yes I am. I don’t care what those dumb check boxes on my census form say.

I was asked to be part of a medical study along with my sisters, but they decided to leave out anyone over age 35. So I don’t have to answer endless questions and get a full physical. Except now I feel kind of left out. I’m interesting. I have medical problems to contribute.

My girls were watching a movie the other day and told me that it was a “REALLY old one, made in like 2005…” 2005 was only yesterday. I’m sure it was.

As young as my brain thinks I am most days, my body reminds me I’m kidding myself. But I hear 40 is the new 20. And if I say it often enough, it’ll be true. I’m sure of it. And I’m not even 40 yet, so I have time to let the idea sink in.

I hear 40 is the new 20.

Quote

“Old age is not so bad when you consider the alternatives.”

~ Maurice Chevalier

Book

I wasn’t sure about this book, but my sister never steers me wrong. It was fun and easy to read, without rotting my brain. It addresses issues of tradition, race and aging, while telling a sweet love story. Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand is romantic and funny. And the leading man is 68 years old!

Soul Healing, Life Changing, Energy Building, Most Brilliant Thing To Do WITHOUT Kids

This summer, when my sister-in-law volunteered to take me to the Scandinave Spa  in Whistler for the day I was somewhat skeptical. A whole day lounging around in my swimsuit… not my idea of fun. But, the brothers were determined to take all the kids and give us a whole day off. Who am I to argue with that?

The drive up through the mountains is almost worth the price of admission. Although you can pay for a massage at the spa, doing the baths is plenty relaxing in itself (and only costs $50-something). Practicing this Scandinavian tradition you cycle through 15 minutes of hot (hot pools, sauna and eucalyptus steam room), 1-15 minutes of cold (cold pools and nordic shower) and 15 minutes of relaxation (sun room, deck chairs, fire pit, and my favourite “hammock haven”). Did I mention that this is all done in silence?

Spiritual retreat, hot bath, good book and pampering all rolled into one. Bliss. It’s the most relaxed I’ve been in years.

Blog

This blog is titled Parenting: Illustrated with Crappy Pictures  Not only does it make me feel good about universal parenting themes, but my artistic ability also. And it uses a semi-bad word quite frequently, which feels a little bad-ass.

There are some that illustrate my life as well. For instance, I feel this quite accurately captures our family’s daily sunscreen battle:

www.crappypictures.com

Invention

Hovding (with the little dots over the “O” that I just can’t figure out on this keyboard) sounds like yet another Ikea shelving system, but in fact, it is a really cool invention (also from Sweden). The invisible bike helmet… for real. Check it out!

Video

Occasionally I think children should rule the world. Watching this video is one of those times. Plus, Flight of the Conchords and their bizarre New Zealand humor is hilarious. Glen thinks they’re stupid. You be the judge.

So here’s me, and most of the time I just think that I should rule the world. Or at least MY kids should. Just don’t anger the boy, he’s got a wicked head butt.

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August 23, 2012

Age 12 and On the Threshold

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

Another beautiful birthday cake from Aunt Erin. Thanks!

12

We are teetering on the brink of Teenagehood. And it shows. Some days you could easily pass for 16. And others I find you still playing like a girl. There is something bittersweet about these threshold years.

It seems to be flying by. Even you have wondered at how quickly time passes this year. Trust me, it only gets worse the older you get.

I will miss the child you’ve been. Not my first-born, but my first-grown. My first panic about exactly the right baby food consistency and the proper potty training technique and how exactly to broach the subject of sex. My first vicarious thrill as you stuck your little toes in the ocean and met the “Real” Cinderella and fell in love with characters in a book.

Once again you are blazing a trail for your siblings. And strangely for us as well. We don’t always know what to do or say, if anything. And I’m pretty sure you’ll have a few things to discuss with your therapist someday. Whether it is because or in spite of us, you have become a lovely young woman. And we are so proud of you!

You are kind, thoughtful, easy-going, nurturing, gracious (with the glaring exception of your closest sister, hmmm…), intelligent, and talented. We hear all the time how mature and responsible you are. But the compliment that thrills me most, are the frequent ones about your gentle, loving spirit.

We see it everyday with your baby sister and your new brother. You are like a second mommy. And though we try to protect your own childhood, you (and your other sister) have eagerly jumped in to help out when we need it. You have been such a blessing to us this past year.

As you look forward this year and childhood fades behind you, I hope that you will use that analytical brain and extreme love of planning to prepare for life you want to lead. This is the time to make many important decisions which will carry your into adulthood. Who do you want to be? What will you devote yourself to? Where are your limits and boundaries? Who is your God?

We’ve made most these decisions for you as a child, but in the next decade we will slowly hand all the control over to you. It is not easy to step back, but we are not worried. We can already see glimpses of the woman God intended for you to be and we are thrilled with what we see.

The teens are an exciting, overwhelming time and there will be times when life and hormones and emotions may seem to overwhelm you. It’s easy to simply react. So many poor decisions are made impulsively, without the bigger picture in mind. Don’t let anyone or anything take your purpose from you.

Be calm and easygoing, but don’t be a doormat.

Be kind and thoughtful, but don’t be people pleaser.

Be nurturing and generous, but find a balance.

Be responsible and conscientious, but let other’s take the lead too.

Be creative and orderly, but get messy.

Be godly and devout, but open-hearted.

Be yourself, but try new things.

More and more our role is to be a consultant rather than a manager. We will always be here to listen and advise and pray and hope the best for you. You may outgrow stuffed animals and clothes bought in the children’s section and bedtime hugs and kisses (though you WILL continue to give them, for my sake if nothing else), but you will never outgrow your Mom.

I love you. I believe in you. And I am incredibly proud of you!

Happy 12th Birthday L!

Love Always,

Mom

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy 12th birthday, my almost-teenager!

It’s funny… as I sit down to write this letter, I realize that I’ve been thinking of you as older than you are. Truthfully, I have a hard time believing you still have another 365 days left of “childhood” before we officially enter a new era.

Today, you’re legally allowed to babysit for other families. You’ve been babysitting for us for a year already.

At the age when other dancers in your school graduate into the seniors’ class, you’ve been dancing with the seniors for two years already.

;

Though most parents would think of their 12-year-old as “one of the kids,” we think of you as a seriously contributing member of the family. Your return to school in a week and a half will not be a relief or a break for us; it will mean that our best helper is now away for most of the day, busy with school and dance and friends and youth group and everything else that fills this life that you’re building for yourself.

;

We’ve been spoiled by you this summer. Spoiled by your role as second mommy to The Littles, as you’ve selflessly cared for them and helped us manage the chaos of adding a toddler to the family. Spoiled by the joy it brings us to have someone else in the house that we can talk to at an almost grown-up level.

I hope you know that we appreciate all that you have given to this family this summer. I know there are times when we have been consumed by the chaos, and we have barked an order for you to “Watch The Boy!” as we have dashed off to care for someone that needs caring for, without a please or a thank you or an I love you. We’re big believers that, in a family, everyone is expected to chip in and do their share. But that doesn’t mean that we take it for granted that we do, or that we don’t notice and appreciate the sacrifices you have made.

Of all our kids, you are the one who was gung ho about adoption right from the start. You didn’t care what it might cost you personally; you knew there was room for one more in our family. You’ve backed that up since we brought S home, giving so much of your time and energy to be with him, and to help us wherever we need helping. I thank you, I appreciate you, and I love you. Again and again, I have told people that I have no idea how we would have survived the past three months without L and C. Your support has meant the world to us, and has given us a glimpse of the caring, generous young woman you are becoming. We couldn’t be more proud of you. Happy Birthday!

Love from,

Your Daddy

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August 20, 2012

The Big One-O

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

To my zany, brilliant, girly, funny, non-conformist offspring:

These AMAZING hamburger cupcakes were courtesy of Aunt Erin… the birthday girl loved them!

Today is an important day. The big one-O. Now that you have that first decade under your belt, we can see more clearly the kind of human being you are becoming.That is not to say that any of this is written in stone. You can certainly change your path along the way. After all, you love to be unpredictable.

But I hope you don’t, because you are shaping up to be a pretty cool person. Possibly cooler than me… a fact you vehemently remind me of, quite often. If eye rolling were an Olympic sport, we’d be cashing endorsement cheques right now. Do me a favour and cut me some slack now and then. I bet when you are 36 you will look back and realize I wasn’t quite as lame as you thought. And I’ll let you in on a little secret: it’s kind of fun to push your buttons. If you didn’t protest quite so loudly, I wouldn’t have to sing/dance/act like an idiot quite as enthusiastically. Embarrassing our kids, well, it’s sort of a family tradition. I have a feeling you will one day do it also. With gusto.

You are passionate. This will be both a blessing and a curse. I speak from experience. Passionate seems a lot like emotionally volatile sometimes. So watch the temper. It isn’t wrong to feel angry, but it can give birth to all sorts of wrong (and stupid) reactions. That’s been my experience all too often. Don’t be your own worst enemy. Take a breath. Use your head and not your heart before you speak. Passionate can be a lot of work. BUT, worth it, because: You love fiercely. You laugh with abandon. You take risks. Passionate is an important ingredient for greatness.

You are a leader. I remember when you were a toddler and you would boss your older sister around. I had to tell that almost 4-year-old not to let her baby sister bully her or push her around. You know your own mind and are not afraid to share it. I know it doesn’t always seem like this is something we appreciate. But we do. Strength of will is something to be admired, but used wisely. Pick your battles. If you are always contrary, then people (and by people, I mean your Dad and I) will stop listening to you. Save your strength for the issues that really matter. The best way to win, is to win people over. You have the wit and intelligence to do it.

You are unique. Yesterday at your birthday party, you played volleyball with a fish (whom you named Bob). You waded in a pool full of blue jello. You threw balloons full of milk at your dad. You had a whipped cream fight with your friends. Instead of a cake, you had hamburger cupcakes. Because you don’t want just a regular old birthday party. You love to be different. The world is more interesting when you are around. I think anyone else would be lost in the shuffle as the middle child in our family, especially with another special needs sibling in the mix. But it is impossible to overlook you. You were designed to stand out. With teenage-dom already breathing down our necks, you’ve begun to follow the fashions and trends of the friends around you. Which is fine. As long as you don’t lose that one-of-a-kind flare that is all you. Don’t be afraid to be silly. Or weird. Or different. You can totally pull it off.

You are loved. It seems like you and I go head to head more often than any one else in the family. Both of us are emotionally volatile passionate people. This year, I promise to try to be more patient and to listen better. I’d like it if you could do the same. Because, life is better when we’re friends.

But first and foremost, I’m your mom. So we won’t always be pals. And that’s okay. It might even be necessary. But no matter what happens, I want you to know that I am passionate about how much I love you. And how important you are to me. And what a gift you are to the world. I think you are an amazing person. I’m pretty sure you always know that I love you (on some level), but I think you should know that I like you a whole lot too. You are one of my favourite people in the world!

I’m not a perfect mom. And you aren’t a perfect kid. But I think we’re a perfect match. I’m so glad that God made you a part of my family. I can’t imagine my life without you.

Happy Birthday!

Love Always,

Mom

~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy 10th birthday, and welcome to the double digits!

What a year it has been for our family – a year of change, which is not your favourite thing.

For three years, we talked about adoption. We renovated our house to make room, and we dreamed about what kind of child would join our family.

All along the way, there was one girl in our family who wasn’t so sure that this was a great idea. She worried about what the changes would mean. Would the new kid fit in? Would she like him? Would he wreck her room and mess up her stuff? Would there be enough time/attention/money to go around? Weren’t we too busy already?

In case you haven’t already figured it out, that girl was you. And, truth be told, you had a much more realistic view of the situation than your big sister did. You knew that there were going to be major changes, and that it was going to take a lot of hard work, sacrifice and patience to bring a whole new person into the family. You were right.

I’ll admit, I was worried: what if C hates adoption? What if she resents him – or what if she resents us for making this decision?

But here’s the thing: I have never admired you more than I have in the past three months. As we’ve gone on this new adventure together, I have seen the wonderful, accepting, loving, giving young lady that you are becoming. It all started when you helped paint his room. From that moment on, C was on board the adoption train. I saw that you loved S the first day we met him, and that’s when I knew everything was going to be okay. The feeling was clearly mutual, as a few weeks later it was you who caused him to laugh harder and more hilariously than I’ve ever heard a child laugh.

Since then, you have patiently endured every change. You’ve given up things that you wanted to do, to play with him and keep him entertained – and you’ve done it without complaining. You’ve come back to him again and again after every time that he’s accidentally hurt you – and that’s happened a lot. Last night you spotted him on the couch looking at a book, and you said, “I’m going to take advantage of this opportunity,” and scooped him right up onto your lap for a cuddle.

I am so unbelievably proud of you. I tell everyone that I don’t know how we possibly could have survived the chaos of the past three months without C and L. You have been incredibly helpful, and surpassed all my expectations for how you would handle this. Thank you. I love you. And I will carry you to bed for as many years as you’ll let me.

Love from,

Your Daddy

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August 17, 2012

Friday Favourites 27

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

There is a lot to celebrate at our house! The smallest girl has managed to keep her panties on and clean for one day; not today, but it happened. So we have hope that it will happen again someday. If only that were how all of us measured success; wouldn’t life be happier? Clean underwear for the win, and everything else is icing.

The big girls are each having their birthday parties this weekend. At first glance this seems masochistic, but it means we only decorate once AND the leftovers from the first party are served at the next, so it’s actually kind of brilliant (and exhausting).

The man of the house just turned almost 40. Okay, 37, but since he reminds me often that our lives are nearly half over, I round up. What? He started it.

But the real party is for the boy. All because he now has many new vocational options open to him, such as: piano tuner, safe cracker and music critic. It’s not that these are our lifelong ambitions for him (although, now Glen is hankering after unlimited back stage passes); the thing is, we simply want him to have every opportunity.

When we adopted S it was with the understanding that his hearing loss (moderate-mild) was quite likely permanent. He has many risk factors for sensorineural hearing loss. One of the reasons the social worker first looked at our profile was our experience using sign language and dealing with a significant speech delay. We were prepared for it. I had the ASL app loaded on my iPhone and we had bounced around a few ideas for adjusting our life to compensate. We would be fine.

BUT they put tubes in his ears shortly before we brought him home. And there was a lot of fluid. And we had hope that this would help and maybe even clear it up altogether.

AND IT DID! On Tuesday afternoon we squeezed into a claustraphobic audiology booth at children’s hospital and he tested “Normal.” Gold Stars all around!

Quote

“Music is perpetual, and only the hearing is intermittent.”
~Henry David Thoreau

App

Most of the time iPhone/Pod/Pad apps lead to solitary play. It’s a treat to find one that not only encourages family interaction, but teaches proper grammatical terms. It takes a team effort to create silly stories with this app. Not only does Mad Libs have us all talking and laughing, but we clarified adjective vs adverb and discussed the meaning of “plural”… in the summer… for fun. You’re welcome, future English teachers.

Video

Julie Tennant is incredibly wise. And she loves her life. And she has Down Syndrome. And I kinda love her.

“I’d rather be slow to learn, than slow to love.”

Religious Joke

My fellow Christians, one of the best things about us is the ability to laugh at our own cheesiness. Those who can’t usually fall into the Pharisee camp. Or they’re just really dull. Or they actually do think it’s funny, but are too full of fear/guilt/angst-masquerading-as-reverance to show it.

The penultimate example of Christian cheesiness – Footprints in the Sand poem. That’s not to say it isn’t profound. And meaningful. And true. But oh, so very overdone.

Dorky Joke

Yes, this is my favourite kind of joke. This one was on George Takei’s FaceBook page… not always appropriate, but ever so funny.

Thank you http://i.imgur.com/4wwhM.jpg

So here’s me, with two, count them, two birthday parties this weekend. One is a spa-themed slumber party for 12 year olds. The other involves a kiddie pool full of jello, volleyball with a fish and hamburger shaped cupcakes. At least one of my children is normal.

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August 15, 2012

The Underwear Crisis

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

She’s captain of her own destiny. Rebel with a cause. Trendsetter?

She’s the kid running around our house with a bare naked bum.

But the oppressive forces of conformity (a.k.a. Mom) continue to insist that wearing panties is NOT optional. Pants, skirts and dresses are also strongly encouraged.

Before I alienate all the nudists who may someday read this blog post, let me clarify that nakedness is not the real issue. In fact, naked is an improvement!

My soon-to-be 8-year-old is deeply committed to pull-ups and diapers. Our keenly tuned parenting instincts tell us that these are not really the “thing-to-wear” to grade 3.

Of course, we are not completely freaking out; as parents of a special needs child we know that developmental timetables are for other people. Sure, we try for socially appropriate, but we accept her where she’s at.

BUT she is fully capable of keeping her beloved pull-up dry ALL DAY (especially when chocolate is provided as rewards). She has low muscle tone and this has only been possible in the last year. We must diligently remind (cough*force*cough) her to “try” several times a day. BUT after 5 long years of potty training, IT IS POSSIBLE.

The last time we made a concerted panty effort, it was a massive failure. She would sit on the toilet for long stretches at a time: reading, singing, talking to herself… but the minute I pulled on those panties she would pee like a race horse. The triumphant smirk on her face did not endear her to me at the time. We tried to wait it out, for several days, but apparently she has a much better tolerance for puddles of urine than we do. So back to pull-ups we went, and immediately she was dry the whole day. At the time I proclaimed that she could wear pull ups to High School for all I cared (this is the time we refer to as “potty training burn out”).

I have no doubt she can easily slay this dragon if she simply decides SHE wants to. So a very special reward has been promised for the day she keeps panties dry ALL DAY LONG.

But before we can reach this triumphant day, we must conquer Step 1: put panties on.

It seems so simple. We have a range of colours and styles to choose from. We have padded training panties. We have Hello Kitty panties. We have butterfly panties. We EVEN have Disney Princess panties!

Attempting to harness the power of peer pressure, we celebrate the universality of underwear. Mommy wears panties, L wears panties, C wears panties, EVEN Daddy wears panties. Manly, manly panties to be sure, but as far as B is concerned, EVERYONE wears panties. If we’ve ever met you, chances are we have assured B that you also wear panties. Ginny wears panties, Lenny wears panties, Olivia wears panties… The neighbour who just waved to you – panties. That man who delivered our morning paper – panties.

I can understand where she’s coming from. Wearing panties seems risky and potentially messy. What if she has to go right in the middle of a fascinating playtime? What if she decides that the toilet downstairs looks/smells/vibes slightly wrong at that crucial moment? Despite the many upsides of panty wearing, she prefers the familiar and the easy. I can relate.

As understanding as I am, this IS happening. I have written it and thus it shall BE.

Let the screaming and wailing and body-slumping-over-like-a-corpse begin. And each pair of panties which are removed and shoved into a kitchen cupboard/under-the-bed/behind-the-dresser shall be retrieved and PUT BACK ON. And baby brother’s diapers shall be moved to a higher shelf so she will stop trying to put them on. And I shall not be moved when she tells me she is “so, so sad” (okay, fine, I was moved, but I sucked it up and put on my no-nonsense face).

And each time she pees in the toilet we will beam with pride and praise her effusively and feed her a chocolate (and one for mom too, because this has been a tough morning).

So here’s me, wearing MY big girl panties.

By the end of today we had 3 accidents, but twice as many successes. The underwear tyrants shall prevail! Hoo-rah.

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August 10, 2012

Friday Favourites 26: Farewell Olympics

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

After Canada won Gold in Hockey at the 2010 Games, B led the parade down the street waving her little flag for all she was worth!

I lived in Calgary during the ’88 Olympics. And again near Vancouver for the 2010 Olympics. When the 2010 Games first appeared on the horizon, I remember friends complaining about the crowds, the traffic, the shameless waste of resources… all legitimate concerns. What they couldn’t understand was the feeling the Olympics brings with it.

I’ll admit, I spouted a few “I told you so’s” as most of them got swept up in the largesse of the Games. It’s a kind of magic. Even for those of us who couldn’t care less about sports.

This is the only time I find myself voluntarily turning to a sports channel on t.v. Our favourite was the trampoline where Canada has made a real impact. I’m sure it also something to do with the fact that this year’s birthday present to all the kids was our very own trampoline. Of course they are full of complaints about mom’s many rules; no flips, no back drops… I’m not looking to raise Olympians, just trying to avoid neck injuries.

Quote

“The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not winning but taking part; the essential thing in life is not conquering but fighting well.”
~Pierre de Coubertin (founder of modern Olympic Games)

Shameless Emotional Blackmail

If you have children, or a mother, or a beating heart, you can’t help but get a little misty eyed at these P&G ads. I kind of wish they would let those little ones sleep in, but the ending makes me all goopy inside.

Infographic

Because I’m a nerd. And I love trivia. And it’s pretty amazing how big the Paralympics are!

Less Meaningful, but Still Interesting Olympic Infographic

Because, if I’m honest, the sports aren’t really the fun part of the Olympics for me. It’s the drama. The stories. And the outifts. Cause I’m shallow like that.

App

But not all our life revolves around the Olympics. We have other, very important things to do with our time to. For instance…

Thank you Uncle Ben for introducing us to this great app! Move over Guitar Hero, the Ocarina2 turns any iPhone/Pod into a musical instrument. We can play everything from Bach to Beiber by blowing into the end of the phone, and following the fingering on the screen.

Music Video

We’re big fans of a as-of-yet-little-known children’s band The Reluctant Minors. Because my littles enjoy the music and Mommy’s crazy dancing (I have a strong suspicion Daddy does too; talk about sitting in the seat of the mockers). Because my big girls deeply appreciate all things weird and random. And because Matt and his family are very good friends of ours from back in the day (he will always be a quirky teenager to us and it’s strange to see him all grown up, with a very cute wife to boot).

So here’s me, startled that both the Olympics and the summer are almost over. How did that happen?

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August 8, 2012

Nothing Hurts Like Family

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

Writing is a funny thing. There are times when it bubbles up pure and fresh, almost effortless. It feels like magic, and the blank page fills with words. A gift, not for readers, but for myself.

There are other times when I squeeze it out, a few recycled words. Predictable. Mundane. And I dress them up with a garnish and a little paper umbrella, pretending that no one was really thirsty after all.

I sat down to write about our family holiday. Something sweet and palatable about lazy beach days and toasting s’mores in the flickering firelight. We had a wonderful vacation! Idyllic moments punctuated by the exhaustion and chaos of our newly expanded family. The past few weeks we have connected with cousins and siblings and parents. We have laughed and reminisced and made several more “remember when” stories for the dinner table.

But no amount of garnish can dress up the bad writing I’ve produced on the topic. I can’t make it work. It’s a cheesy tourism brochure.

The truth is, I am consumed by the turmoil of family politics. Somehow it seems to overshadow all of the Norman Rockwell we’ve experienced. Like the fog that rolled in on our last day at the beach house, obscuring the spectacular view we had already begun to take for granted.

So this post is not what I intended. It is messy and vague and somewhat depressing. But honest.

Nothing hurts like family.

I write this with the sad comfort that I am not singling out any family member or particular conflict. On every side of both our families is a complex web of hurt feelings and disrespect and misunderstanding. I’m beginning to think it is normal, though it feels very unnatural. Most of the time we sit on the periphery and try our best to play peace-maker. But we’ve played a few rounds ourselves lately.

You don’t need the details to know the story. Over and over again in a thousand little ways and in the big ones too: nothing hurts like family.

Normally, I prefer the irritation and necessary pain of honest interaction. My advice to others almost always involves gentle confrontation. It’s not fair to be angry with someone and not tell them. Words. Words. Words.

Yet in reality they aren’t the magic fix I imagine. Some things are more complicated than diplomacy and amateur psychology can address. And let’s face it, the walking wounded make terrible diplomats. In my own life it is absurdly easy to settle for a thin veneer of civility atop a bubbling cesspool of resentment. I hate to admit that. It makes me a terrible hypocrite.

My husband reminds me to let things go, to be kind and forgiving, to do good, even when others don’t. Even when others don’t notice, which is the most annoying of all. For him, the relationship is more important than the fight. He is the master of conflict avoidance. But sometimes this peace feels like a lumpy rug. Eventually we’re bound to trip on all that skillfully concealed debris.

So we vacillate between conflict and cover-up. And I don’t know which is better. And I don’t have any more answers. And I don’t know what to do next.

But I love my family. All of them. Even the ones who hurt me. Even the ones whom I’ve hurt.

I don’t have a great insight about this subject, not yet. No pithy conclusion. No 10 simple steps to fix what ails us. Just a prayer for wisdom and hope that my words, and actions, and inactions will make things better, not worse.

So here’s me, trying to figure out how we imperfect jerks can love each better.

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