Loss of Innocence

I cannot believe that it has been 10 months since I have posted. Life with 3 kids got in the way, and long story short, my faithful blogging sessions got crowded out. I have had various points along the way where I have said to myself, "I really should write about this" and then the moment passed and the inspiration fizzled. But not this time. So here I am nearly a year later ready to pour my heart out once again...

For the first 5 years of her life, Nicki was pretty much sheltered from any kind of emotional pain at the hand of other kids. Because I was (and am) a stay-at-home mom, she was never faced with the situation of being pushed around at daycare, never had to defend herself against a grabber, hitter, biter, teaser. I was always there to step in should any of those situations arise. Even though she is my oldest, I sometimes feel like she will always be the one that I consider to be my baby, possibly because for her first 2 years she had no siblings around and therefore had my undivided attention. She was my sole focus and with no other children to distract me from her, my opportunities to shield and protect her were limitless.

Fast forward to the present: Nicki is now in kindergarten. Initially my anxiety about this transition revolved more around turning her education over to someone other than myself. Having been her main teacher for the past 5 years, I struggled with sadness over the loss of that role. But, as the months rolled by and I saw her thriving, I began to accept and even embrace the change. I finally started to recognize that even though my role as an academic teacher may have changed, my position as a life teacher never would. Being there to guide my children as they grow up, show them right from wrong, instill moral values, teach them to live up to their potential, all the while being there to encourage, support, console, and help in any way, shape or form is what being a mother is all about.

That being said, this week I was faced with a new realization: that no matter how much I want to shelter and protect Nicki from harm, now that she is growing up and gaining more independence, there are some things that will forever be out of my control.

There is a special kind of innocence that young children have. It's what makes them run around naked without any shame, dance in the middle of a crowd of people without a moment's hesitation or break out into song without a single thought as to who might be listening. It's a belief that all people are good and a total incomprehension of why anyone would be cruel. That innocence is the epitome of childhood and is one of the most beautiful and moving things in the world to behold. Nicki is still brimming with that innocence and until now I had taken for granted that it would always be inside of her. Then yesterday part of it was stripped away and even though the logical and rational part of me knows that loss of innocence is an unfortunate consequence of growing up, my heart still ached for her.

Although she is still relatively sheltered from the older kids at school (the kindergartners have a separate entrance and separate yard to play in), the school bus is the one place where she is exposed to all of the different age groups and all of the bad behaviors that go along with them. I was relieved to find out that the kindergartners were required to sit at the front of the bus and that there would at least be some kind of physical distance between her and the 11 and 12 year olds. I got nervous however when as punishment for bad behavior on the back of the bus, they bus driver began having the 6th graders sit up front with the kindergartners on the way home.

Here was my precious little 5 year old bursting with happiness and telling me all about how she had a 6th grader named Dylan sitting with her on the bus. I smiled and said that was great, but inside I cringed at the thought of what he might be saying to her. In the end, I worried needlessly as it turned out that Dylan was actually quite friendly to her and even now that he has returned to his original seat in the back, he continues to say hello to her and compliment her on whatever art project she may be holding in her lap on a given day. She beams with pride whenever she recounts these interactions to me and I can't help but silently thank this boy in the back of my mind every time she does.

Having averted this potential crisis, I thought it would be smooth sailing from there, but a couple of months ago, the principal got on the bus and gave out assigned seating to everyone. She moved some of the more problematic kids to the front for good which of course meant that some of the well behaved kids like Nicki got pushed farther back. So now Nicki is sitting in the midst of what are, from what I can tell, 3rd and 4th graders. The girl she was seated with seemed to be nice enough and so I told myself to stop worrying and just let it be.

Then Nicki started coming home telling me all about the boy who sits across the aisle from her named Dennis. For whatever reason, she fell head over heels for him and talked about him non-stop, even going so far as walking around the house solemnly one day sighing, "I just wish Dennis was here." When I asked her about their interactions on the bus, she said that she talks to him all the time, but that he doesn't always answer her. She seemed just fine with that arrangement, but I could sense a broken heart coming on fast. Then she began to draw pictures for him on a daily basis and give them to him on the bus. His sister and other friends sitting nearby started teasing him about this and that's when he started being mean. He began calling her "the crazy kindergartner" and crumpling up the art she would give him. The sadness that she felt over this was like none I had ever seen in her eyes before. Then yesterday came the kicker. She was sitting in her seat, staring out the window and singing softly to herself as she does pretty much every day now that she has no one to talk to. He very cruelly told her to be quiet and that he hoped he never had to hear her sing another song for the rest of his life.

She was completely crushed. She came off the bus with tears streaming down her face and crumpled into my arms sobbing. She kept asking me over and over why someone would be so mean to her, why didn't he like her, when all she wanted was to be his friend. For a while all I could do was hold her and rock her and tell her it was going to be ok. Once she calmed down I tried to have her see his point of view and explain to her that oftentimes older kids prefer to only be friends with kids in their own grade and that when a kindergartner started paying so much attention to him it made him feel uncomfortable. I tried to get her to see that being teased by his friends made him lash out at her and to help her realize that even though he was entitled to having those feelings, the way he expressed them was completely uncalled for. I encouraged her to continue making art for those that truly appreciate it (there's a boy in her class named Zachary that worships the ground she walks on) and reminded her that real friends do not treat each other the way Dennis treated her.

It took every ounce of discipline I had to remain calm and rational when inside my emotions were screaming at me to march over to his house and wring his little neck. The mother lion in me was ready to roar: How dare he hurt my treasured little baby and who the hell did he think he was talking to her like that? I could tell that something was lost in her that day; a tiny piece of innocence was gone.

Deep down inside I knew that this type of encounter was unavoidable and that what had transpired would amount to merely a tiny scratch on her emotional skin, but the pain and disillusionment I saw on her face that day made me want to wrap her up and hide her away and keep her from experiencing another ounce of pain for the rest of her life.

How on earth am I going to deal with the almost inevitable sorrow over a first break up or the grief over not making the team? How am I going to keep myself from pouncing on every kid who teases her, every boy who rejects her and every clique that snubs her? I haven't got a clue...

How far is too far?

Ok, here is the situation. Having 3 kids in 4 years teaches you to pick your battles wisely. Very Wisely. Otherwise, you are sure to be in constant battle over something.

One of the areas I have never seen necessary to battle over is clothing. Ever since Nicki has been old enough to have the desire to pick out her own clothes in the morning, I have let her dress herself. As long as the clothes are weather appropriate (much more of an issue after we left San Diego!) I keep my mouth shut about her choices. Always. Even if we are going to a birthday party. Even if my in-laws are coming over. Even if people are going to think I must have dressed her myself in the dark. Does she always match? No. Does she look ridiculous? Sometimes. Is she happy with how she looks? Always. So far so good...

Enter Gabe. Gabe has never showed much interest in picking out what to wear each day, so I usually do it for him. He seems oblivious to my choices most of the time - clothes mean nothing to him. What he loves to do is accessorize. Yes, you read that right. My son is into accessories. He loves wearing necklaces, bracelets, head bands, tiaras, and most of all tutus. And I haven't seen a reason to stop him. We have made many trips out with him sporting a pink tutu over his sweatpants, earning us many stares and the occasional comment from passerby. But he is happy as a clam, so I am too. So until now, my "no battle" philosophy had been going pretty smoothly. I have now been blindsided however by something I really didn't see coming.

A bit of history first: Gabe will be turning 3 in a few months. He is not yet potty trained. Unlike Nicki who potty trained in only 3 days at the age of 20 months, Gabe has shown no desire at all to use the potty and refuses any suggestion I might make to that effect. Periodically I will mention something or other about being a big boy now or getting to wear underwear, but he always just says "No thanks." At least he's polite about it I guess. This is the same dance we have been doing for over a year now.

Yesterday however when I mentioned the possibility of him wearing underwear for the gazillionth time, his interest seemed to be piqued. I perked up at the thought of possibly getting somewhere, so I asked him what kind of big boy underwear he would like to wear when he learns to use the potty. His response? "Belle underwear." Yup, that's right, my son wants to wear Disney Princess panties and actually went on to tell me how he would never ever pee or poop in his Belle panties because he loves her so much. I suggested that perhaps he might also like some Lightening McQueen, or Spiderman or Curious George underwear. No go. He only wants Belle.

Now what do I do?! This is the first time he has EVER even remotely shown any interest at all in using the potty. My first instinct is to jump all over it before the moment passes, buy him 10 packages of Belle panties and get this ball rolling. But part of me just can't do it. As liberal as I am, I just don't know how I would feel seeing a delicate pink waistband peeking out of the top of his camouflage pants. I need to think about this some more...

Letting kids be kids

Yesterday I went to an "orientation meeting" for Nicki's future kindergarten. The parents were together in one room with the principal, while the kids went off to a kindergarten classroom with the teacher. One of the things they had the parents do was fill in a short questionnaire about their kids. Most of the questions were pretty straightforward: name, age, did they go to preschool, how much French have they been exposed to, etc. But there was one question that I faltered on. It asked us to list our child's hobbies. It seemed innocent on the face of it, but really what were we supposed to answer? I mean seriously, hobbies? At 4 years old? Is there some sort of group of 4-year-olds out there taking up stamp collecting and needlepoint?

I was drawing a complete blank at that point, so I glanced around the room to see if others were struggling as well. No such luck. Pens were scribbling away, no doubt telling tales of their children's unwavering interest in classical violin or impressionist art. Even more discouraged at this point, I forced myself to calm down and think; what do my kids actually do? Then it hit me square in the face: they PLAY. They build with blocks, they draw pictures, they do puzzles, they get dressed up, they chase each other around the house, they feed their dolls, they race their cars, they look at books, they run and jump and climb and slide. THEY HAVE FUN.

In the school's defense they were clearly just trying to get to know my child better, but me being me, took it as a loaded question that really should have read "What extra-curricular activities do you force your child to be shuttled around to every day?" So instead of marking down the one activity that Nicki actually does participate in (swimming), I instead marked "playing" as my answer. I hope that the teacher who reads it will see beyond the simplicity of the answer to the deeper meaning behind it: my kid gets to be a kid and we are just fine with that. After all, isn't playing what childhood should be all about?

TV Wars

Ahhh, TV. Moms fall all over the spectrum on the subject of how much is too much, ranging from the permissive "let them watch as much as they want" view to the strict "no TV at all" standpoint. While I disagree with forbidding TV completely, I will admit that I do fall on the stricter side of things when it comes to screen time, allowing my kids to watch only one show per day (20-30 minutes max). We rotate who gets to choose the episode each day (one day Nicki, next day Gabe, next day me) and they only get to choose from a group of shows or DVDs pre-selected by yours truly.

Too stringent? Some might say so, but I would have to disagree. There are so many better uses of their time, no matter how "educational" certain programs might be. (I have heard this refrain so many times: "Yeah, my kids watch a lot of TV, but it's ok they only watch educational shows.) My kids do not turn to the tube out of boredom. When left to their own devices they are more than happy to look at books, listen to music, build, dress-up, colour, run, dance and (gasp, are you ready for this?) use their imaginations to entertain themselves. My kids never ask me to turn the TV on. Seriously. Never. We have a time set aside for it each day and that's it. Sometimes I wonder if they think that the TV won't even turn on outside of that time. They've never tried. I don't watch much TV myself, only 2 hours a week - House and 24 for those who care! So while I only watch TV 2 days a week, I read 7 days. Hopefully this will rub off on them. So far so good.

I have wondered to myself though if I am setting them up for failure by being too rigid when it comes to TV. By not allowing them to watch more am I somehow glamourizing it, making more seductive, more intriguing? Am I dooming them to a couch potato future once they grow up? My ultimate goal here is to teach my kids that moderation is the key to a happy and healthy lifestyle, whether we're talking watching TV or eating less than healthy foods.

Now before I really start to sound like a kill-joy, I need to say that I am flexible when the occasion calls for it. For example, I take the kids to the gym with me on Saturday mornings where they have a TV set up in the child care area. They often play movies there and my kids have come to look forward to their special mornings at the gym, in part because they are getting to do something they don't get to do at home, which makes it an enjoyable time for both them and me.

One Saturday morning the child care provider told me that one of the other moms had requested that she keep the TV off. I was surprised by this and asked why. Apparently it was because the mom was trying to limit her kids' screen time and if they watched TV at the gym that morning they would not be able to to watch any more at home that day. My first reaction to that was "So? What's the problem?" But then I understood. The mom was obviously using the TV at home as a way for her to get some time to herself, for chores or other things, and without it she wouldn't be able to keep her kids occupied long enough to get these things done. She "needed" them to watch TV at home, so in an effort to keep a cap on how much TV they watched in a day, she didn't want them to watch any TV at the gym. How convenient.

To me this was completely ridiculous. If she was so concerned about their viewing habits, then the changes should have been made at home, not when they were out in the world. This is exactly the type of thing that I never worry about. I know my kids watch only minimal TV at home, so if they get to watch a little extra at the gym on a Saturday morning, no big deal. Same goes for junk-food or sugary treats. These types of foods are not a part of our daily living, so when a special occasion rolls around and they eat a slice of pizza or a piece of cake, again, no big deal.

What I find most ironic is that this mom, who was leaving these kids at the gym child care so that she could do something she wanted to do, could not even be lenient enough to allow them a little fun of their own. How unfair. And the most hypocritical part of the whole thing was that while she was on the exercise bike working out she was...? You guessed it! Watching TV herself. Ugh.

There's a time and a place for everything and moderation really is the key. If I can lead by example and ingrain these concepts into their heads now while they are young and have them carry these values into adulthood, at least part of my parenting will have been successful. Here's hoping!

The rocking chair

Many years ago when I was first moving out on my own, I went to a garage sale and bought an old wooden rocking chair from a woman who actually seemed quite reluctant to sell it. As I handed her my money, she looked at me with brimming tears and a sad smile and said "Treat it well, I rocked my babies to sleep in that chair." At the time, my 19 year-old brain thought her sentimentality over a piece of furniture was sweet but a little over the top. Today I get it. Oh, do I ever get it.

Upstairs in my baby's nursery sits a blue and white gingham patterned rocker. It's nothing special to look at, the same as many other rockers you will find in baby stores all over town, although even a casual observer would have to admit that it looks darn comfortable. But what that observer wouldn't and couldn't know is that my heart has seeped so deeply into its fabric that it's practically a part of me.

How can a simple chair become a part of you, you wonder? Well allow me to shed a little light. Over the past 4 years I have nursed 3 babies in that chair, hour after hour, day after day, night after night. I have cradled newborns as they slept, I have rocked crying babies as they teethed and I have soothed weeping toddlers when they were frightened. In that chair I have been graced with first smiles, first giggles, and first coos. From that chair I have watched the sun rise and fall, the seasons change, and my babies grow up. Week after week, month after month, year after year.

In that chair I have felt happiness beyond belief and exhaustion beyond comprehension. In that chair I have felt both helpless and invincible. In that chair I have felt a love more powerful than any emotion I have ever experienced. In that chair I have felt alive. In that chair I finally became who I was always meant to be: a nurturer, a protector... a Mother.

Personality profile

A couple of weeks ago my friends Cindy and Wilson loaned me a booked entitled "Positive Personality Profiles" by Robert A. Rohm, Ph.D. Always a sucker for self analysis, I took it home and read it in less than a day. The book basically confirmed what I have known for years: I am an extremely anal, task-oriented, anti-social, controlling perfectionist - or what they call the "C" personality type. It also revealed that I am weary of other people's kindness, always looking for a hidden meaning behind it. The author summed it up perfectly when he said that when faced with a display of appreciation, a person with my personality type will wonder: "Am I being manipulated? Are you trying to get something by me? Hmmmm, what's going on here?" I had to laugh out loud at this. It's so true.

Self-scrutiny aside, this book was an interesting read for a whole other reason: trying to peg my kids' personalities. I think that I managed to get a handle on Nicki's fairly easily. She has always struck me as a people-pleaser, a girl who likes being around people but is essentially reserved. According to the book, this would make her an "S" personality. As I read more about this particular personality type, I saw more and more of Nicki in every page. They enjoy routine and believe readily in "a place for everything and everything in its place", they need a lot of security, they are submissive and take orders very well, they like the status quo or sameness and they are very sentimental. The author noted that "S" type children are often the easiest to parent and I would definitely have to agree.

But to be honest, I had never really given much thought to what her personality type would mean for her in the future, how it would help or harm her in the years ahead. Knowing that she is a people-pleaser raises questions for me on how she will behave as a teenager for example. Will she be able to say no when not-so-well-meaning friends try to steer her toward behaviours she should avoid? Will she cave into peer pressure? Will she have enough self-esteem and confidence in herself to be her own person and live by the values we have taught her throughout her young life? What can we do now in the early years to bolster that self-esteem, ingrain those core values and teach her to stand by her convictions?

Gabe's personality on the other hand was much harder to pin down. Before he even reached a year old, it was obvious that he and Nicki were polar opposites of each other and as time went by the differences became even more pronounced. He learns in a different way, responds to discipline in a different way and interacts in a different way. According to the book, the opposite of Nicki's personality would be the "D" personality, and I while I have to admit many of the characteristics do seem to fit - demanding, strong-willed, defiant - they probably also characterize 99% of all of the 2 year olds out there.

So while it may be too soon yet to determine exactly what personality type Gabe is, one thing is for certain, these two kids are VERY different from each other, which means I have my work cut out for me in the months and years ahead. Add Roxy to the mix and who knows what her emerging personality will bring to the dynamic! The same parenting style is definitely not going to work for all of them, which means I am going to have to tailor my parenting to each different child and each different circumstance - not an easy task for a control-freak "C" type like me!

A time for bonding

The sound of your cries breaks through the wall of my sleep and pulls me back into the conscious world. I pry my eyes open and squint at the clock, barely making out the big green 2:38 am that is staring back at me. I close my eyes for a second more, wondering if it was just my imagination, but you cry out again and I know that I wasn't just dreaming. I haul myself out of my warm cocoon of a bed and pull on my bathrobe, trying but failing to recreate the effect. Your cries are becoming more insistent now and I know that I need to hurry. I stumble down the hall to your room, flicking the light switch on as I go, still more awake than asleep.

I slowly open the door to your room and tiptoe in. The floor creaks under my feet as I cross the room to pick you up out of your crib. As soon as I envelop you in my arms your crying stops, almost as though you know that your need is about to be met, that now that I am here everything is going to be ok. I carry you back across the room and over to a rocker that evokes so many emotions in me, I can't even begin to put them into words.

I open up my bathrobe and put you to my breast, finally giving you exactly what it is that you needed. You latch on immediately and drink with the vigor of one who has just run a marathon, scaled a mountain, or simply spent the last two hours growing while she slept. I close my eyes as I listen to the sounds of you sucking and swallowing, so rhythmic that it's almost musical, so fulfilling that it's incredibly beautiful. I force myself to open my eyes, not wanting to miss a moment, determined to stay awake.

As you slow down your pace and begin to drift off yourself, I gaze in wonder at the perfect little human being that you are. The dim light from the hall illuminates your features in such a way that they appear almost angelic in the glow. I let my eyes wander over the features of your face, the delicate slope of your nose, the curve of your ear, the length of your eyelashes. The contrast that the juxtaposition of your dark hair and your pale skin creates is mesmerizing.

I look down at your tiny hand, fingers splayed across my breast as though holding on to the source of your contentment. I let my mind wander toward thoughts of the future, of what those hands may one day accomplish. I watch the hypnotic rhythm of your chest rising and falling with each breath that you take and my own breath is taken away as I realize that I had a hand in creating the life that is nestled in my arms.

Tears cloud my vision for a while as these thoughts swirl through my mind and when they spill over onto my cheeks, I suddenly realize that you have fallen asleep. Not wanting this moment to end quite yet, I take a little more time to soak in every last detail, making sure to sear this image of you into my memory forever. Then ever so slowly I rise from the rocker and carry you back to your crib, laying you down as gently as I would a porcelain doll. You squirm for a second and then sigh as your body goes slack and sleep envelops you once more.

I tiptoe out and close the door behind me, making my way back to my own bed. I crawl in and curl up into a ball, still feeling your warmth on my chest. I let images of you fill my head as I drift off, knowing that you will soon be calling for me again and feeling joy for the privilege of being the one to sustain your precious life.

Mommy loves you Roxy. Sweet dreams.

Common courtesy

When we lived in San Diego, reserved parking spots for pregnant women were pretty much everywhere. I was in awe and loved the idea that society was being considerate to the needs of these moms-to-be. When we moved back to Montreal in 2006 I couldn't help but notice the lack of these type of spots in comparison. But over the past 2 years they have started to pop up pretty much everywhere from the grocery store, to the mall and Toys R Us. Even Canadian Tire has a few! Some of them are specially designated for "Pregnant women or parents accompanied by young children." Being out and about with a 3 year old, a 1 year old and a ever growing pregnant belly, these parking spots have made life so much easier for me, and I am appreciative whenever I do manage to snag one for us.

I have noticed however the disturbing trend of single men parking in these spots, especially at the grocery store. I am there 3 times a week (once for grocery shopping and twice to go to the gym which is located inside the store) and so I have seen an amazing amount of men ignoring the sings completely, somehow feeling like they have a right to park there. It annoys me to no end to see a pregnant mother dragging her groceries to the far end of the parking lot in the rain just because some inconsiderate man decided that the rules don't apply to him.

I was at the end of my rope yesterday after seeing another single man pull out of a reserved spot when I arrived, so when another single man pulled in beside me as I was putting the kids into the car to leave I actually got up the nerve to say something. Now it's important to note that I am a pretty shy person when it comes to conversing with strangers and really do prefer to avoid confrontation as much as possible. But I had had enough at this point and decided to speak my mind. I went over to him as he was getting out and said "You know you're parked in a pregnant woman's spot right?" His response floored me. He said "What, just because you see that I'm brown you automatically think that I'm stupid?" I was shocked my this but still managed to get out: "No, I see that you are a man parked in a pregnant woman's parking spot and I automatically think you are incredibly rude!"

Obviously this man had issues that stemmed far beyond simply being inconsiderate and as I shook my head and went about buckling the kids in, he continued to spout on and on about how "people like me" are all the same, always assuming that "brown people" are idiots, etc etc. The whole thing was completely surreal to me. And then lo and behold, as I finally pulled out of my spot, who should pull into the spot across from mine? Yup, you guessed it, another single man. I flagged down an employee of the store who was gathering up some shopping carts and asked him if there was anything that could be done about the situation. He said I would have to take it up with the manager. Sheesh.

So now as I am contemplating writing a letter to the manager of the store, I can't help but wonder what has happened to the world we are living in. Were people always this rude? Did they always have this kind of sense of entitlement? Where did it come from? What would their own mothers think if they knew that their grown sons were behaving this way? I have always been one to give up my seat on the bus to an elderly person or hold the door open for the person coming out behind me. Am I in the minority now? Is common courtesy really dead? For my kids' sake, I sure hope not...

Moving on

I am definitely one of those over-emotional mothers who will privately cry over many of the seemingly minor milestones that my kids reach. One such milestone recently occurred with Nicki and nearly broke my heart.

When we moved Gabe into his new "big boy" room we bought him an Elmo doll to sleep with in his new bed. He never really got attached to the teddy bear we had placed in his crib, so we decided that a new friend to sleep with might make the transition from a crib to a bed a little easier, and since he LOVES Elmo, it just made sense. Well, not wanting Nicki to feel left out, we decided to buy her a Sesame Street toy too and got her an Abby Cadabby doll for her room. Never in a million years would I have expected her to want to sleep with it, but she took it to her bed right away, relegating Mr. Bear to the floor.

Mr. Bear. The adorable little brown bear that has slept right by her side every night since she has been born. Faithful Mr. Bear. I can still remember buying him from the furniture store where we bought Nicki's crib. He was just the cutest thing and he always seemed to have his own little personality, from the very first day we brought him home. I can remember how Eddie and I placed him on the kitchen table for months before Nicki was born. He had somehow become to us a symbol of the new life we were about to bring into this world and we liked to see his little face every day while we sat together at the table and pondered how our lives were about to change. I can remember how Eddie used to make him come to life, by making him wave or nod his head. But best of all, I can remember how Nicki would hold him tight when I tucked her in at night and how I would find him crumpled up beneath her the next morning, crushed by her weight but so happy to be loved.

To her the switch was a no-brainer: new doll comes in, old one moves out. But to me, the switch symbolized the end of an era. Nicki is no longer the little baby she used to be. At 3 years old she is her own person, with her own unique personality, her own ideas, her own opinions. Gone are the days of cradling her in my arms for hours, gazing into her eyes, soaking up her smell. As hard as it is for me to admit, I know I have to start letting her grow up, even though she will always be my baby.

Which brings us back to Mr. Bear. The irony has not been lost on me that he is now actually sitting on the floor beside her bed in the lap of none other than Humpty Dumpty, the very same Humpty Dumpty that I slept with in my bed for so many years as a child. Now the two sit there together, taken down from their pedestals, but certainly not any less loved. I am secretly hoping that the magic of Mr. Bear can live on a little longer by asking Nicki if she would like to give him to the new baby when he or she arrives. I guess I'm just not quite ready yet to never see chubby little fingers curled around him again. I guess I'm just not quite ready yet to move on...

My 13 year old 3 year old

Nicki has become quite the little drama queen lately. Her behaviour is quite different though from the tantrum throwing of a child who didn't get her way. When she gets in a "mood", it's usually brought upon by what she perceives as being misunderstood, but the fact is, there is really very little to misunderstand when Nicki tries to convey something. As articulate and verbose as any adult I know, Nicki usually doesn't leave much room for confusion. And yet, she behaves as though she's desperately misunderstood by the parental world. I can only imagine the angry song lyrics or angst-filled poetry that she is sure to pen someday.

I swear if hear one more sigh, see one more eye roll or am privy to one more exasperated "Oh Mommy..." I am going to lose my mind. How is it even possible that my darling little 3 year old is even capable of such condescension? Ok, I'll admit it, I'm definitely guilty of sighing. I do it quite a lot actually. But it's never accompanied by a head shake and tongue click, nor is it followed by pouting and moping. Plus, it has to be better than swearing out loud right? Right?!? I'm pretty sure no one on Sesame Street or Dora rolls their eyes. I don't think any Disney Princess books relay the idea of extreme moodiness as acceptable behaviour. So will someone please tell me where all of this is getting picked up?

Picture this: It's bath time and Nicki is getting on the potty before I brush her teeth. The tub is filling up, so I can't hear whether or not she was actually successful in her attempt to pee. She wipes, gets off the potty and then stands there frozen with a look of confusion on her face. I ask her what's wrong and she looks up at me and says "I think I peed." I know that something isn't right because normally if she has peed, she will just wipe, flush, wash her hands and move on without any discussion about it. So I ask "Are you sure? You don't look sure." To this she replies "I think it was just blank pee."

Now just to get everyone up to speed on the lingo here, we have had the discussion in the past about her distinction between regular pee and what she has labeled "blank pee." Apparently "blank pee" is pee that comes out clear (as opposed to yellow).

So I tell her that it doesn't really matter what colour the pee was, just that some actually came out. I then ask her "Did any pee come out or not?" This was met with the most exasperated sigh, a head shake and an eye roll, followed by a long drawn out "Oh Mommy..." I try to remain calm and suggest that if she isn't sure, then she should probably sit back down on the potty again just in case. She starts to cry and tells me how I never understand her and how she's just so tired of everything. Pretty intense for a 3 year old, no?

A few seconds later, a tidal wave of pee comes rushing out, confirming my suspicion that nothing had happened the first time around. Hoping now that the episode is behind us, I brush her teeth and try to engage her in unrelated conversation. She resists, still sighing and looking miserable. So I tell her that it's time to get in the bath and that she has the choice now to have a fun bath together or to keep being upset; it's her decision. She tells me that she doesn't want to have any fun and would prefer to have a fast bath (i.e. wash and get out, no toys, no bubbles, no playing) so she can just go to sleep. She even tells me she doesn't want me to read her a bedtime story, and for Nicki, that's saying a lot.

And so it goes at our house. 90% of the time Nicki is a typical happy-go-lucky little girl, full of smiles and giggles, wit and charm. But the rest of the time, she becomes sad and withdrawn, almost to the point of seeming utterly dissatisfied with her life, and often without provocation. Just today she said to me that she's "tired of being in the same place all the time and seeing all of the same things", and would prefer to "travel all over the world and never stay in one place for too long." All of this with a sigh and a shake of her head. Doesn't this sound more like the musings of a middle-aged woman who, after pondering the meaning of her life decided that it needed more substance, than the reflections of a 3 year old child? What on earth is this little girl going to be like in 10 years? 20 years? I can only imagine...

Soccer moms

Now that I have officially become a "soccer mom" I have had the incredible misfortune of being exposed to other soccer moms on a weekly basis. I am astounded by the behaviour that many of these moms display and by the way that they speak to their children. What is it about watching their kids play sports that turns regular every day moms into shouting, raving lunatics? Aren't kids allowed to just have fun anymore?

Now remember, these kids are 3 and 4 years old. Any rational human being would agree that there's only so much you can expect from them performance-wise right? Well, a couple of weeks ago I was seated beside one mom in particular who was continuously yelling at her daughter on the field. She sounded something like this:

"Sofia, run faster! You're going too slow! You have to get the ball and kick it in the net! Why are you looking over there? Keep your eye on the ball! You're not paying attention! No, you don't need any water, keep going!" This went on and on for the entire length of the game and it took all of my will power to not shout "Just leave her alone, will you?!"

It was incredibly heartbreaking for me to watch this little girl on the field and see her become more and more demoralized with each passing minute. Does this mom not realize that what she's doing isn't exactly motivating to a young child? I mean seriously. The poor girl was obviously doing her best. I can only imagine the "I'm never good enough" complex this child is going to have as she goes through life.

Aren't parents supposed to be the greatest supporters of their children? Aren't we supposed to be their "soft place to fall" (to steal the expression from Dr. Phil)? Aren't we supposed to be the people that our kids can turn to when their world is spinning out of control? I'm not saying that we should set our kids up for failure in the real world by constantly sugar coating the realities of life. But should we not make them feel that, at the very least, there are two people in this world that will always have their arms spread open wide for them to run into, whether they succeed or whether they fail?

8 years and counting

Yesterday was my 8 year wedding anniversary with Eddie, my wonderful, amazing, perfect husband. All in all, we've been together for 10 and a half years, and to be honest, I think a lot of people are surprised. Our relationship wasn't exactly your typical run of the mill boy meets girl story. Here's a quick recap:

We met in December of 1997 at a house party thrown by someone who was a friend of separate friends. Both of us were on the heels of pretty intense break-ups with our long-time significant others and weren't exactly in the best emotional shape to jump into a new relationship. On top of that, Eddie was only in town for a week before he had to head back to school 6 hours away. But for some reason (fate?) we were drawn to each other at that party and have been together ever since. After spending all but one of his remaining days in Montreal together, we decided to go ahead and try to give the long-distance thing a shot. Pretty bold move for people who barely knew each other. Everyone around us was skeptical, throwing around the opinion that it was a "rebound" relationship for both of us that was doomed to fail from the get-go. Amazingly, but not without a mountains of enormous phone bills and many miles wracked up on our cars, we made it work for over 2 years.

When Eddie graduated from university in 2000 he came back home and moved in with me. I can still remember counting down the days! I had graduated the previous year and was working at a job that I loathed. We lived in a small apartment downtown for a couple of months and then our lives took another turn. He got offered a job in San Diego, CA. This was the first of many life changing decisions we eventually made together. With nothing really tying us to Montreal, we decided to take the plunge and move to the US. Another bold move, this time for two people who hadn't even lived together for more than a two months!

Upon our arrival in San Diego, we made another huge decision, one that shocked many people and got us in deep trouble with our families once the truth finally came out 5 months later. We decided to get married and keep it a secret. The reasons why we did it were so clear at the time and yet seem totally murky to me now. Part of it was because I needed to have a visa to legally be allowed in the country (he obtained one through the company he was going to be working for) and by being married I could get a "spouse's visa" quickly and without hassle. But another part of it was because we were so incredibly happy to finally be together after 2 and a half years of waiting. It was as if we were so crazy in love that we wanted to do everything all at once. So just 4 days after our plane landed in San Diego, we went to City Hall on Eddie's 24th birthday and tied the knot. No one was there but the justice of the peace and a girl from the office that they brought in to be a witness. The decision to keep it a secret was made because we were afraid of being judged, afraid that our families would disapprove or feel left out. While I don't regret getting married at that time at all, I do regret keeping it from the people that we love. But that's a topic for a whole other post...

When we did finally tell everyone what we had done, they were quite disappointed in us, and once again skeptical that we could make it work. But boy have we proved them wrong! In 2001 we bought our first home and filled it first with a couple of dogs and later in 2004 with our first child. In 2006 I got pregnant again and low and behold, another major decision was made, this time to move back to Montreal. In June 2006, after 6 years in the US, we made our way back to Montreal and finally it seemed like everyone could see how strong our relationship really was. In September of that year our second child was born. And now, after 8 years of marriage, I am once again pregnant with another beautiful baby. Our family is growing and is happier than ever.

Our relationship has had its ups and downs just like any other, and when I think about it, we have definitely gone through a lot in the past 10 years, including dating long distance, getting married, having kids, home buying and selling, and job gaining and losing on both of our parts. And yet, our relationship is as strong as it has ever been and I honestly believe that we will grow old and gray together. I cannot for a minute imagine my life without Eddie. And I really don't want to. I think that for us the secret is that neither of us have really changed. We are still the same people we were back when we met at 19 and 21. We were sure of who we were and what we wanted and that hasn't changed, even a decade later.

We are hoping to renew our wedding vows for our 10th wedding anniversary in 2010, this time surrounded by all of the family and friends that support us and love us, as well as our children. I never got proposed to, never had an engagement, never had a wedding dress, never got wedding photos, never got to dance a first dance. Given the chance to do it again, I would love for that day to not only be about Eddie and I, but about the family we have created. I would love to not only make vows to each other, but to our children as well. It would be so beautiful. And if I had a choice, this would be the song I would play as our first dance. I'm not a Shania Twain fan by any means, but these lyrics really couldn't be more appropriate, don't you think?


You're Still The One

(When I first saw you, I saw love. And the first time you touched me, I felt
love. And after all this time, you're still the one I love.)

Looks like we made it
Look how far we've come my baby
We mighta took the long way
We knew we'd get there someday

They said, "I bet they'll never make it"
But just look at us holding on
We're still together still going strong

(You're still the one)
You're still the one I run to
The one that I belong to
You're still the one I want for life
(You're still the one)
You're still the one that I love
The only one I dream of
You're still the one I kiss good night

Ain't nothin' better
We beat the odds together
I'm glad we didn't listen
Look at what we would be missin'

They said, "I bet they'll never make it"
But just look at us holding on
We're still together still going strong

(You're still the one)
You're still the one I run to
The one that I belong to
You're still the one I want for life
(You're still the one)
You're still the one that I love
The only one I dream of
You're still the one I kiss good night

(You're still the one)
You're still the one I run to
The one that I belong to
You're still the one I want for life
(You're still the one)
You're still the one that I love
The only one I dream of
You're still the one I kiss good night

I'm so glad we made it
Look how far we've come my baby

Ideal spacing

I was at the park yesterday riding the see-saw with Nicki. A woman and her grandson sat down on the one beside us and said hello. She noticed that I was pregnant, looked at Nicki and then said, "That's the perfect spacing between the two!" While in the past I have found comments like this annoying, these days nothing seems to bug me. I honestly replied, "Actually I have another one in between!" and pointed over to Gabe who was across the park. Her eyes widened and she said "Wow, that's a busy house!" to which I just smiled and laughed.

That conversation got me thinking last night about what the "ideal" spacing of children really is. I suppose it really depends on each individual family, though I can see pros and cons to both having children close together and having them further apart. It would seem that having them spaced further apart would make things easier in the sense that the older child would be more independent by the time the next baby came around. But on the other hand, the kids could be less likely to play together and could quite possibly have very little in common depending on how many years separated them.

There are just over 7 years separating my brother and I, and truth be told, we didn't really play together much. I wished for a younger sibling to play with and was disappointed when my parents decided I was the last child they would be having. When it came time to have my own kids, I thought that a 2 1/2 to 3 year spacing between them would be perfect. As it worked out, there are just under 2 years separating Nicki and Gabe, and Gabe and the new baby will be almost exactly 2 years apart, with only a couple of weeks separating my due date from Gabe's 2nd birthday.

So we ended up having subsequent kids a little sooner after the first than we had originally thought, but so far it has worked out well. Maybe it's because Nicki has always been so mature for her age that the 23 month age gap between her and Gabe has always seemed much wider. I'm more worried this time about how small the gap will be, since Gabe is less verbal than Nicki was at the same age. On the other hand, he is much more independent than she is even now, and he of course has her to play with, so maybe the addition of a new baby will actually be smoother than I think. Only time will tell... I have been told that the third child is actually the easiest one of all, because the constant action of the older two keeps them entertained!

Many people have commented on how close together we decided to have our kids, saying that it must be very difficult. I'm quick to remind them that what works for one family may not work for another, and besides, I know people with 3 kids born even closer together than ours that are doing just great (you know I'm talking about you Grace!)

In the end I guess you adapt and adjust to whatever spacing you choose or whatever hand you are dealt. No one family is better or worse, closer or more distant, calmer or more chaotic than any other. Everyone finds their own rhythm, their own speed, their own flow. I am looking forward to welcoming a new life into this world and into our ever growing family. I know that having 3 very young children will be a mixture of joy and frustration, but I'm up for the challenge!

Magical meltdowns

It is so amazing to me how young kids can walk away from a meltdown as if nothing ever happened. They just move on with no residual frustration, no lingering anger or resentment. I can't help but wonder what goes on inside those little minds...

A couple of days ago I heard Nicki begin to rustle around toward the end of her nap. Then suddenly she began to cry, soft sniffles at first which promptly escalated into full on crying. This is extremely out of the ordinary for her, so I ran up to see what was wrong. When I walked into her room, her quilt was completely disheveled and partially over her head. I went over and peeked under it and she began to wail saying "Mommy, go away!" I knelt down next to the bed and told her that I had heard her crying on the monitor and was worried about what was wrong. She said that she was frustrated because her quilt had fallen off the bed and she couldn't get it back on properly. I suggested that we solve the problem by switching out the quilt for her lighter fleece blanket instead (it was getting to hot for that quilt anyway!) She agreed to this, but continued to sniffle.

I opened up her blinds and she saw that it was a sunny afternoon. She asked me if we could go swimming in the kiddie pool, but I said no because we had swam in the pool the two previous days and it was scheduled to rain for the rest of the week, so I wanted to take advantage of the weather and head out to the park. I explained to her that Gabe loves the park as much as she loves the pool and that we have to take turns doing each so that they can both be happy. This was met with a huge tantrum, including "BUT I DON'T WANT TO GO TO THE PARK! I'M NOT GOING!" followed by an avalanche of tears and the stomping of feet. I can't even begin to explain how out of character this is for her. I did my best to keep my composure and tell her that we were all going to the park together and that we could swim in the pool another day. Then I told her that I was leaving the room and closing the door and that she could come out when she was all done crying and ready to play.

After a few minutes of full-on screaming and stomping (during which time Gabe announced "Nicki crying! Gabe hug!"), she emerged from her room and sweetly asked if she could come out and play. I asked her if she was done with her tantrum and she said yes, so I gave her a hug and the 3 of us played together for a little while before leaving for the park. I watched her closely during that time, and amazingly there was no sign of the meltdown that had just occurred. She was happy and smiling and playing, and even mentioned with enthusiasm that maybe we would see some friends at the park because it was such a nice day.

I was completely stumped (albeit relieved!) by the sudden turnaround. How could she go from an utter loss of emotional control to being perfectly content within the space of a few minutes? I have to admit, I was a bit jealous. When I breakdown, the feelings of frustration seem to linger around for hours, tainting the rest of my day. How glorious it would be to be able to lock myself in a room for a few minutes of screaming, tear shedding and foot stomping and then emerge feeling like a new woman, refreshed and rejuvenated and ready to move on! Maybe these kids are on to something!!

Food fight

I will be the first to admit that Gabe has never been, and probably never will be, the hearty eater that Nicki is. While Nicki is pretty much willing to eat, or at least try, anything that is placed in front of her, Gabe on the other hand takes things to the other extreme. And lately it has only gotten worse. These days his diet consists of the following:

-Milk
-Bread (and any bread-like product such as bagels or english muffins)
-Cereal: Cheerios/All Bran/Oatmeal Squares
-Fruit, fruit and more fruit
-Peanut butter
-Cheese Whiz (sometimes)

And that's all! It's scary to me that he can exist and be fully nourished on this type of diet. I'm just thankful that, at the very least, all of the food groups have a representing item on that list. But he doesn't eat any meat at all, any vegetables at all, any pasta at all, any rice at all. It's not just a "healthy food" thing either. On our rare splurges with less than healthy food, we have discovered that he won't go anywhere near pizza or even french fries. In fact just last week when I made brownies and Nicki was happily licking the batter off the spatula, I approached him with a batter-covered spatula of his own and he literally ran away from me crying. Never in my life have I met a child who didn't jump at the chance to lick a chocolate covered spatula!

At every meal we always put a small amount of everything we are eating on his plate. He will eat the bread and fruit and drink the milk, but won't even touch the rest. Actually that's not true; he will will pick up the other items, name them and then drop them with disgust and disdain back into his plate, leaving them to be ignored for the rest of the meal. He certainly isn't lacking in examples, because Nicki sits right in front of him eating everything, even occasionally saying "Look Gabe! It's good!" It isn't a lack of hunger issue either, because if we keep giving him bread or fruit he will continue to eat. If we try to put the undesired food into his mouth ourselves he will simply spit it out. Nicki has never spat food out in her life, even as a baby... What a difference.

My hope that continually putting the food in front of him might lead him to eventually branch out and try something is waning as of late, since his list of foods recently diminished again. He used to eat cheese, now he doesn't; he used to eat yogurt, now he doesn't; he used to eat veggie burger patties, now he doesn't; he used to eat peas, now he doesn't. When he first began eating table foods way back when, he would take the occasional nibble of meat here and there, maybe sample a noodle or two, or test out a carrot once in a while. But it's been ages since any of those foods have made it anywhere near his mouth, despite their continual reappearance on his plate.

It is incredibly frustrating to see him eat (or not eat) this way, since as a mom I am eternally concerned with my kids nutrition. I have to be honest though and say that he truly appears to be incredibly healthy and strong. Maybe I'm putting too much thought into this whole ordeal and should just take a step back and let him hopefully discover these foods in his own time. But it sure would give me a whole lot of hope if he'd just eat a noodle!

Mommy image part 2

Interestingly, after my last post, Nicki saw a woman applying her make-up in the locker room after swim class. As I brushed and tied her hair, she stared at the woman's reflection in the mirror for a while and then asked "Mommy, why is that lady drawing on her face?" The woman laughed and I replied that she was "putting on make-up" and that "some mommies like to do that." She then said "But Mommy, she shouldn't use pencils on her face, that's for drawing on paper!" So I explained to her that what she was using wasn't a regular pencil and that it was made from different things that were safe to put on your face. She seemed satisfied with that answer, but continued to study the woman intently as she finished up.

Not long after that, Nicki got out an old mirror that was in one of her toy bins and began pretending to put on make-up. She then announced to me that my own make-up must have "fallen off" and that she needed to put some more on me. I felt uncomfortable with this type of play, but I obliged anyway, not wanting to squelch her fun. In the end she said she was actually drawing pictures on my face (butterfly, Elmo, hearts, etc) which I found interesting, since she obviously equated the application of make-up with the face painting she has received in the past.

The next day she asked me why I never put any make-up on. I had been anticipating this question due to her recent interest and yet still felt unprepared to answer it. The last thing I wanted to do was pass judgment on anyone who does wear make-up by making it sound like they are insecure about their appearance. But I also didn't want to glorify the idea of cosmetics. I dread the thought of her turning into one of those teenage girls who is traumatized by the idea of stepping out of the house without putting make-up on her face. I answered her question by telling her that even though some women choose to wear make-up to feel more beautiful, I think that I look beautiful just the way I am without make-up, just like I think she looks beautiful just the way she is without make-up.

Thankfully my answer was accepted this time around, but I can't even imagine what I will do when she hits those "tween" years and starts to have friends who wear make-up and wants to do it too. I don't know if I should try to discourage it and risk making it more appealing or just let my own hang-ups on the topic go and let her do what she wants. I have no clue at what age (if any!) I would find the practice of wearing make-up acceptable. I already know that I'm overly strict and massively over-protective and that I should probably let this go in the end and pick my battles wisely. I just wish I knew how to impart on her a sense of the importance of inner beauty versus outward appearance and how to give her the confidence and self-esteem to view herself as naturally beautiful.

I think my husband put it best when he responded to my previous blog. He told me that "there is a beauty in simplicity" that he loves, which was music to my ears. So hopefully with a mother who doesn't spend hours in front of the mirror every day and a father who appreciates the value of natural beauty, Nicki will grow up to be confident in her appearance without ever having to give it a second thought. I guess only time will tell...

Mommy image

We recently borrowed a book from the library entitled "Just Like Mommy". I thought this would be a cute read for both kids, but hesitated after I read the content. In the end we brought it home because Gabe truly seemed to enjoy the repetition of the words "just like Mommy" on every page, but it has been grating on me ever since. On each page there is a drawing of a young girl doing the same things that her mother is doing and goes as follows:

"I have a necklace. I have earrings. Just like Mommy!"
"I have rouge. I have lipstick. Just like Mommy!"
"I have a bracelet. I have nail polish. Just like Mommy!"
"I have socks. I have shoes. Just like Mommy!"
"I have a comb. I have a hairbrush. Just like Mommy!"
"I have curls. I have bows. Just like Mommy!"
"I have a pocketbook. I'm going to work. Just like Mommy!"


I think that this book bothered me so much because almost none of it applies to me. In fact the shoes, socks and hairbrush were the only representative items of me on that list, and even then the "socks" were actually pantyhose and the "shoes" were high heeled ones, neither of which I have worn in ages. And no, I don't even own a pocketbook or wallet, I just throw my money into the sorry excuse for a purse that is hiding in the bottom of the diaper bag.

All this book has really done is make me even more self-conscious about the differences between me and so many other moms I see on a daily basis. After attending a few field trips with Nicki's preschool, I became painfully aware of how I actually look. It's kind of ironic actually, because I don't really have any major issues with my general appearance. I think I'm in pretty good shape and don't really have any complaints about about my body or face or hair etc. But I swear these other moms look like they just walked out of the hair, make-up and wardrobe area of a major motion picture. They always look perfect! And more and more lately I have been wondering how they do it.

I mean seriously. These moms have kids the same age as my kids. How in the world do they find the time to look so perfectly put together? I'm talking perfect hair, perfect make-up, perfect nails, perfect outfit. They wear fancy shoes, have fancy jewelery, carry fancy purses. Eddie thinks they must plop their kids in front of the tv while they take the time to primp in the morning or that they must have nannies. As for me well, to be honest I'd rather keep looking like I just rolled out of bed than do that. I shower at night after the kids are in bed. In the morning, I get Gabe dressed and then we all have breakfast as a family. Afterwards Nicki and I get ready together. We get dressed, brush our teeth and hair and wash our faces. Then we go back downstairs and play until it is time to venture out for the day.

So in reality I know in my head that I am making a conscious choice not to take the time to look that way, choosing instead to spend time with my kids rather than make myself "look good", and yet I wind up feeling crummy whenever I'm around these other moms who look so great. Me in my track pants and sneakers, with my ponytail and unmade face, with my too short nails and a diaper bag on my back. I can't help but feel beneath them, like a lower class citizen, like a frump. I wonder sometimes what they must think about me, if they feel sorry for me or even secretly laugh. I wonder sometimes what my husband must think, if he's sad that I don't take the time to "look like a woman", if he'll eventually start to see me as only a "mom" and nothing more. I wonder why I even care about this all of a sudden when it never used to cross my mind before. And then I snap back into reality and get down on the floor to play with my kids some more, knowing that I've made the right choice for me, appearances be damned.

The sound of music

It has been a very busy month of May around here, so this will likely be my one and only post this month. Due to lack of time, I debated skipping this entry completely, but something kept nagging at the back of my mind to write it, lest the memory be gone forever...

I am constantly amazed by my kids' love for music. Gabe in particular seems to enjoy it immensely whenever I put music on (which is pretty much all the time), retreating into himself and going off into his own little world. When there is no music playing, Gabe seems to be more clingy and demanding of my attention. But as soon as the tunes start blaring, he can play by himself for what seems like an eternity at his young age.

Both of my children were soothed by music as infants, as I'm sure most babies are. Both began very early on to be able to distinguish and identify some of the various instruments in the songs we would put on, such as drums, piano and trumpet. And both have musical tastes that extend far beyond your traditional children's music, as they often seem to prefer to hear the music that Eddie and I listen to over their own kiddie CDs.

As I bring Gabe down the stairs every morning he demands "Jack! Jack!" for Jack Johnson's latest release "Sleep Through The Static", and when I comply (which I always do!) he proceeds to groove his way through the songs, bobbing his head to the beat with a rhythm we had no idea a child so young could have. In the car, a resounding chant of "Ani!" is yelled out by Nicki before we're even buckled in, as she makes her request for Ani Difranco's 1998 release "Little Plastic Castle", before Gabe can make his choice known. When Gabe does manage to sneak a request in, it's usually for one of our favourite radio stations, 99.9 The Buzz, which touts itself as "the rock alternative" and puts out a varied play list of such artists as Foo Fighters, Disturbed, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Nine Inch Nails, Linkin Park and Puddle of Mudd, just to name a few... Gabe will point to the radio and say "Buzz! Buzz!" over and over until we turn it on. We are seriously thinking of sending an audio clip of this to the station, it's just too funny. Ben Harper is another of Nicki's favourites, as she repeatedly asks to hear songs from his "Burn to Shine" album, which was released in 1999. She even brought it with her to preschool one day when the kids were asked to bring in some of their favourite CDs. Probably not what the teachers were expecting I'm sure! And of course any and every Bob Schneider CD (Mommy's personal favourite) is likely to be heard as well, and both kids clap their hands, kick their feet and even sing along. Not quite what you would expect a 3 year old and a 1 year old to enjoy and yet they love it!

Of course this is not to say that they don't listen to their fair share of children's music too. It would seem that our "Dora the Explorer" CD is on constant rotation in the playroom, played so often in fact that both kids instantly know which song is coming up next as soon as the previous song starts. There are actually two other CDs that our kids love and that Eddie and I actually enjoy too. The first is "Dog Train: A Wild Ride on the Rock-and-Roll Side" by children's author Sandra Boynton, which boasts a compilation of diverse and humourous songs done by an eclectic mix of artists such as Blues Traveler, Alison Krauss, The Phenomenauts and even (get this) Weird Al Yankovic. The second is a Sesame Street compilation called "Songs from the Street: 35 Years of Music". Not only do we get to hear all of our favourite characters, such as Ernie, Bert, Grover and Big Bird, we are also graced with the voices of many of the fantastic singers who have performed on Sesame Street in the past, such as James Taylor, Paul Simon, Stevie Wonder, Johnny Cash and Billy Joel (brining back great memories for Eddie and I) and even those who have made appearances more recently, such as Steven Tyler, Hootie and the Blowfish, Spin Doctors and Goo Goo Dolls.

Growing up in my family, the radio was on from the time we woke up in the morning till the time we went to bed at night. We spent countless hours dancing around the living room, truly having the time of our lives. I can remember my parents spontaneously grabbing each other to dance to a song they particularly liked, even if it was in the middle of doing the dishes. I can remember dancing up a storm to Jose Feliciano with my mother and grandmother in the basement on Christmas Day and have now been blessed with the memory of doing the same with my mother and my own daughter this past year. Music was an important source of happiness in my family and concerts were something we enjoyed going to together. I can still remember my first concert which I attended with my brother and my mother when I was only 8 years old: Whitney Houston. I have lost count of how many concerts I have been to since then but I know that it is a huge amount, as the ticket stubs that I have saved from every single one of those shows are overflowing in a memory box that I keep. It's fun to go through them every now and then and see how much my musical tastes have changed over the past 22 years!

I hope that music can continue to play a huge role in my children's lives as they grow up. I hope that it can continue to be for them all of the same things that it has been for me over the years; a source of joy and happiness, a source of comfort, an outlet for frustration, a way to bond with the other members of my family. And most of all I hope that I never EVER turn into the mom who yells out "Turn off that infernal racket!" when my kids turn their music on full blast. :)

Out after dark

Tonight I took Nicki out on what she deemed to be "an adventure". My parents were out of town and they asked me to check in on their house periodically while they were away. Rather than wait until Nicki was in bed, I decided to take her with me. I helped her shower, got her into her jammies and then we hopped into the car just as the sun was going down.

She was ecstatic to be out of the house in her jammies for starters, but to be out after dark seemed to be the real thrill for her. We drove to the house, checked everything out, watered the plants together and then headed back home. On the ride home she kept noticing little things with awe in her voice, like how the street lights had started to turn on one by one and how she could see inside people's houses as we drove by them.

As we sat idling at a red light, I turned to look at her in silence. Her face was lit by the neon lights of the gas station we were next to. She had a look of pure delight on her face as she stared out her window, clearly amazed at how the same sights we see day after day during daylight hours could look so different after the sun goes down. I couldn't help but notice the contrast between how young she looked sitting there in her jammies with her face awash in wonder, and how big she truly is now with her long gangly legs hanging far over the edge of her car seat. I can still remember when her feet didn't even come to the edge of that seat. It almost felt like if I blinked again she would somehow be a teenager, like time was truly slipping by that fast. So I forced my eyes to stay open and sear that image of my sweet little girl into my brain. Please don't grow up too fast Nicki... and never lose that sense of wonder ok? Mommy loves you. Goodnight.

Fresh air = tired kids!

Ever since the nicer weather has begun, we have been spending hours outside each day, enjoying every possible second we can outdoors. The kids are thrilled to pieces to be able to run around the backyard and make daily trips to the park. Nicki has been having a blast practicing on her tricycle and scooter and from the time Gabe wakes up in the morning he is asking to go outside, running to get his shoes and bring them to the back door.

The best part about all of this fresh air and exercise is that both kids have been sleeping like logs. They both pass out at nap time without so much as a peep and most days I have to wake them to get up and go outside again. At bed time they are asleep within minutes of their heads hitting the pillow and are waking up later and later in the mornings. For the first time in his life Gabe slept over 12 hours last night, waking up at a lovely 8:15 am.

I know I have been writing a lot about the weather, so I promise this will be my last post about it. It just plays such a huge role in our day to day lives up here, and after such a long and hard winter it feels like we are finally free!