Carmen got up early this morning. She NEVER gets up early. She was just too excited to sleep. She wanted to get to school, to take on grade two. She got dressed in her graphic T, blue pleated uniform-type skirt, and knee-high socks, brushed her hair (which she insisted I blow dry with a roller brush last night)and even cleaned her glasses. She was ready. Over breakfast she wondered who she'd be sitting with, what they'd do on the first day, if there was going to be any new kids in her class, and if they would be doing the Christmas concert or the spring one this year. She wanted to come home for lunch to tell me all about her day -- but only this once. Then she wanted to stay at school with her friends.
We gathered up her new indoor shoes, backpack, and snack bag and headed outside. Before we left I insisted on the first-day-of-school picture, which she happily mugged for. As I snapped the picture and headed toward her school, I couldn't help noticing how grown up she looks all of a sudden. How grown up she acts sometimes. She grabbed the dog's leash and raced ahead of us, Benny not far behind her. I know it won't be long before she's walking herself to school... but I'm glad it's not yet.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Apples and Oranges
Apples and Oranges
When I had Carmen, it was like magic. She slept well, ate well, was easy going, and she grew into a sweet and smart toddler. When I got pregnant again I thought I had the tiger by the tail. I knew what I was doing; after all, I had done this all before. Like so many times since, I discovered how wrong a person can be when it comes to trying to figure out raising children.
I found myself with a fussy little baby boy who cried for no apparent reason. Where his sister had slept like an angel in her car seat, Ben chose that time to scream bloody murder until we reached our destination. Carmen and I skated through feedings and diaper changes without so much as a rash. Ben and I, on the other hand, were plagued by painful diaper rashes and thrush that not only turned breastfeeding into a toe-curling, miserable experience but also stained his mouth (and his clothes) purple from the gentian violet treatment—just in time for his first Christmas pictures.
Now Carmen is an independent, confident, nurturing almost-second-grader. She loves to read, do crafts and play games. She loves to help out in the kitchen and worries about stains on her clothes. Ben is happiest with club in hand smashing whatever happens to venture into his path, all the while wearing his watermelon and berry stains on his shirt like a badge. He can’t resist kicking or karate chopping toys and people alike as he passes by. He peed in his Crocs one day and in a bucket in the backyard another – something his sister would never dream of doing even if she had the equipment to do so.
I never imagined kids that came from the same mix of DNA could be so different. If I have taken nothing else from the last seven years it has been that comparing my two kids is like trying to compare apples and oranges. My little “fruits” are both sweet and fantastic but totally unique. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
When I had Carmen, it was like magic. She slept well, ate well, was easy going, and she grew into a sweet and smart toddler. When I got pregnant again I thought I had the tiger by the tail. I knew what I was doing; after all, I had done this all before. Like so many times since, I discovered how wrong a person can be when it comes to trying to figure out raising children.
I found myself with a fussy little baby boy who cried for no apparent reason. Where his sister had slept like an angel in her car seat, Ben chose that time to scream bloody murder until we reached our destination. Carmen and I skated through feedings and diaper changes without so much as a rash. Ben and I, on the other hand, were plagued by painful diaper rashes and thrush that not only turned breastfeeding into a toe-curling, miserable experience but also stained his mouth (and his clothes) purple from the gentian violet treatment—just in time for his first Christmas pictures.
Now Carmen is an independent, confident, nurturing almost-second-grader. She loves to read, do crafts and play games. She loves to help out in the kitchen and worries about stains on her clothes. Ben is happiest with club in hand smashing whatever happens to venture into his path, all the while wearing his watermelon and berry stains on his shirt like a badge. He can’t resist kicking or karate chopping toys and people alike as he passes by. He peed in his Crocs one day and in a bucket in the backyard another – something his sister would never dream of doing even if she had the equipment to do so.
I never imagined kids that came from the same mix of DNA could be so different. If I have taken nothing else from the last seven years it has been that comparing my two kids is like trying to compare apples and oranges. My little “fruits” are both sweet and fantastic but totally unique. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Familiar Strangers
Throughout the school year we were in a fairly predictable schedule: school, sports classes, weekly play groups. Now that we’re settling into these lazy summer days, I got to thinking about the familiar strangers that we saw daily for 10 months and don’t see any more.
There is the woman with the Golden Retriever puppy named Amber (the dog, not the woman). We passed her every day after dropping off at school. Farley would give Amber (again the dog not the woman) a sniff before they carried on with their walk and we headed home.
Then there is the man in his sixties heading to the bus in the morning. He was always dressed in a pressed suit and a fedora, ready with a smile as we passed him on the hill. He looked like he’d just walked off a 1950s billboard for some new suburban development – classy, distinguished, timeless.
We’d also pass the grandfather whose grandkids go to Carmen’s school. He was much more organized than us so he’d greet us with a ‘good morning’ on his way home as we were rushing to get there before the bell. We were early one day and he panicked a little as we passed by on our way home. He checked with us to make sure he wasn’t late. I’m sure it never occurred to him that we could be on the ball enough to be on time!
So to all the men and women we nod to on the street, make room on the sidewalk for their dogs and bikes as they do the same for ours, and see during the Tuesday morning grocery shop, you may be out of sight but not too far out of mind. We’ll see you again in September –same time same place!
There is the woman with the Golden Retriever puppy named Amber (the dog, not the woman). We passed her every day after dropping off at school. Farley would give Amber (again the dog not the woman) a sniff before they carried on with their walk and we headed home.
Then there is the man in his sixties heading to the bus in the morning. He was always dressed in a pressed suit and a fedora, ready with a smile as we passed him on the hill. He looked like he’d just walked off a 1950s billboard for some new suburban development – classy, distinguished, timeless.
We’d also pass the grandfather whose grandkids go to Carmen’s school. He was much more organized than us so he’d greet us with a ‘good morning’ on his way home as we were rushing to get there before the bell. We were early one day and he panicked a little as we passed by on our way home. He checked with us to make sure he wasn’t late. I’m sure it never occurred to him that we could be on the ball enough to be on time!
So to all the men and women we nod to on the street, make room on the sidewalk for their dogs and bikes as they do the same for ours, and see during the Tuesday morning grocery shop, you may be out of sight but not too far out of mind. We’ll see you again in September –same time same place!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Mini-Me no More
I have always thought of Carmen as shy. Reserved. Contemplative. And I guess I’ve enabled her to opt out of things because I’ve thought of her as shy and made her think of herself that way too. I’ve worked to expose her to different situations, built her confidence with sports, and encouraged her so she wouldn’t be as painfully shy as I was when I was growing up. And it seems these efforts are starting to pay off.
I volunteered at her Museum School field trip last week – I had a group of four kids (including Carmen) and we wandered the Glenbow Museum, examined artefacts, sketched exhibits, and talked about the stories these objects told. It also gave me the chance to watch Carmen interact with her classmates and participate in discussions in a way that I never have before. It’s an understatement to say that I was surprised at what I saw.
She was opinionated but not obnoxiously so. She threw her hand in the air when questions were posed by the guides and teachers. She was assertive yet respectful, had fun and soaked up information, and even put on a play for the rest of the class to show what a particular pioneer artefact was for and she did so without hesitation or serious nerves. That would have crippled the 7-year-old me!
Carmen is still a bit quiet in class (which I’m good with) and watches what is happening around her before jumping in (again, that’s okay by me), but she is also an active, eager member of the group who isn’t afraid to express what she thinks or feels. As it turns out, she isn’t me after all. She’s way smarter, more confident, and prettier than I ever was. And I couldn’t be prouder.
I volunteered at her Museum School field trip last week – I had a group of four kids (including Carmen) and we wandered the Glenbow Museum, examined artefacts, sketched exhibits, and talked about the stories these objects told. It also gave me the chance to watch Carmen interact with her classmates and participate in discussions in a way that I never have before. It’s an understatement to say that I was surprised at what I saw.
She was opinionated but not obnoxiously so. She threw her hand in the air when questions were posed by the guides and teachers. She was assertive yet respectful, had fun and soaked up information, and even put on a play for the rest of the class to show what a particular pioneer artefact was for and she did so without hesitation or serious nerves. That would have crippled the 7-year-old me!
Carmen is still a bit quiet in class (which I’m good with) and watches what is happening around her before jumping in (again, that’s okay by me), but she is also an active, eager member of the group who isn’t afraid to express what she thinks or feels. As it turns out, she isn’t me after all. She’s way smarter, more confident, and prettier than I ever was. And I couldn’t be prouder.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Home Again
Bryce and I just got back from our first vacation together as a couple -- it only took us 13 years to get away! We went to San Francisco with a few friends and it was a great time. Now it's back to the real world of laundry, kids' schedules, and responsibilities. I will, however, take away a few things that I learned while away:
- my kids sound like helium-filled cartoon characters on the phone
- being 3 hours early for a 7:30 am flight translates to an obscenely early morning
- it may say something about me that the highlight of the trip was walking around an old jail (although I guess Alcatraz is in a class all its own)
- pro baseball games are WAY more enjoyable when you've got really good seats
- coastal weather does not agree with my hair
- the sunny, blue skies of California in the movies obviously weren't in San Fran in May. Holy crap for fog and wind!
- knowing I'm not responsible for the kids allows me to sleep like the dead (or maybe that was because of that early morning flight!)
- I'm a home-body and was ready to return after 4 days away from the monsters
It's great to go away but it's even better to come back. I don't know what those songs about leaving your heart in San Francisco were about -- mine is firmly planted in the chaos of home.
- my kids sound like helium-filled cartoon characters on the phone
- being 3 hours early for a 7:30 am flight translates to an obscenely early morning
- it may say something about me that the highlight of the trip was walking around an old jail (although I guess Alcatraz is in a class all its own)
- pro baseball games are WAY more enjoyable when you've got really good seats
- coastal weather does not agree with my hair
- the sunny, blue skies of California in the movies obviously weren't in San Fran in May. Holy crap for fog and wind!
- knowing I'm not responsible for the kids allows me to sleep like the dead (or maybe that was because of that early morning flight!)
- I'm a home-body and was ready to return after 4 days away from the monsters
It's great to go away but it's even better to come back. I don't know what those songs about leaving your heart in San Francisco were about -- mine is firmly planted in the chaos of home.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Moms
I spent Mother’s Day with my mom, Bryce’s mom, my dad’s wife, and being a mom. It made me thankful for the strong women in my life and all they have taught me about what it means to be a mom.
So far, in my experience, it has meant the following responsibilities:
Taxi service
Social networker
Athletic coordinator
Chef (or at least food preparer – I have limited skills)
Referee
Tutor
Boo-boo kisser
Clothing folder
Knock-knock joke laugher (even though they make no sense and are really not
jokes at all)
Art collector...
I try to nurture my kids, make them feel appreciated and valued, and make them feel happy and excited about their day – all without making them spoiled and indulged. It can be a fine line! I’ve taken what I’ve learned from the moms around me and I hope I’m doing the right things for my little ones.
My hope is to have my kids talk to me about anything and everything as they are growing up and be the one they turn to throughout their lives when things are tough or when things are amazing. My hope is to have a relationship like the one I share with my mom. I talk to her every day, she supports me unconditionally but isn’t afraid to tell me I’m off my nut, she’s there to help out no matter what I am doing, and she laughs at my stupid jokes. She’s my best friend and if I have half the relationship with my kids that I enjoy with her, I’ll be happy.
Carmen told me yesterday that I was her best friend. I’ll have to remind her of that when she’s 16 and I won’t let her date some 22 year old drummer. Until then, I’ll take the compliment and run.
So far, in my experience, it has meant the following responsibilities:
Taxi service
Social networker
Athletic coordinator
Chef (or at least food preparer – I have limited skills)
Referee
Tutor
Boo-boo kisser
Clothing folder
Knock-knock joke laugher (even though they make no sense and are really not
jokes at all)
Art collector...
I try to nurture my kids, make them feel appreciated and valued, and make them feel happy and excited about their day – all without making them spoiled and indulged. It can be a fine line! I’ve taken what I’ve learned from the moms around me and I hope I’m doing the right things for my little ones.
My hope is to have my kids talk to me about anything and everything as they are growing up and be the one they turn to throughout their lives when things are tough or when things are amazing. My hope is to have a relationship like the one I share with my mom. I talk to her every day, she supports me unconditionally but isn’t afraid to tell me I’m off my nut, she’s there to help out no matter what I am doing, and she laughs at my stupid jokes. She’s my best friend and if I have half the relationship with my kids that I enjoy with her, I’ll be happy.
Carmen told me yesterday that I was her best friend. I’ll have to remind her of that when she’s 16 and I won’t let her date some 22 year old drummer. Until then, I’ll take the compliment and run.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
SMILE?
As a teenager, I remember empathizing with friends who had to get braces or retainers or some other God-awful dental contraption while secretly (and maybe a bit smugly) thinking “never gonna be me.” You see, I have perfectly straight teeth, a nice smile. Textbook, my dentist had said.
Apparently the textbooks have changed. Now, 20 years after my friends suffered through metallic smiles and painful adjustments, I’m on the road to braces to fix a jaw misalignment. Me. Braces. Very uncool. Even more uncool is the orthodontic splint – think retainer meets mouth guard— that I’m sporting now for the next 6 to 12months. It’s horrible! It feels like it takes up my entire mouth, I can’t talk, it’s uncomfortable and I look like a total dork. Mortifying. You can expect to see more posting and emailing and facebooking so I can avoid actually talking to anyone. Nothing personal. No one needs to hear a middle-aged woman lisping through an unattractive appliance!
You would think a married, secure person like me wouldn’t get too worked up about orthodontics. Hell, if it’ll reduce my brutal headaches and jaw pain I should be excited. Apparently I’m not. Maybe I’m vain. Maybe I’m cheap (this stuff is costing a fortune!). Maybe I’m just bitter that I’ll be in splints and frickin’ braces until I’m almost 40. I guess it’s a combination of it all that has me feeling like I want to crawl back into bed for the next, oh, 2 years.
Okay. Enough complaining. But when you see me, remember my fragile psyche right now and keep the jokes to a minimum. Thankth.
Apparently the textbooks have changed. Now, 20 years after my friends suffered through metallic smiles and painful adjustments, I’m on the road to braces to fix a jaw misalignment. Me. Braces. Very uncool. Even more uncool is the orthodontic splint – think retainer meets mouth guard— that I’m sporting now for the next 6 to 12months. It’s horrible! It feels like it takes up my entire mouth, I can’t talk, it’s uncomfortable and I look like a total dork. Mortifying. You can expect to see more posting and emailing and facebooking so I can avoid actually talking to anyone. Nothing personal. No one needs to hear a middle-aged woman lisping through an unattractive appliance!
You would think a married, secure person like me wouldn’t get too worked up about orthodontics. Hell, if it’ll reduce my brutal headaches and jaw pain I should be excited. Apparently I’m not. Maybe I’m vain. Maybe I’m cheap (this stuff is costing a fortune!). Maybe I’m just bitter that I’ll be in splints and frickin’ braces until I’m almost 40. I guess it’s a combination of it all that has me feeling like I want to crawl back into bed for the next, oh, 2 years.
Okay. Enough complaining. But when you see me, remember my fragile psyche right now and keep the jokes to a minimum. Thankth.
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