Sep
7
This morning was my daughter’s first gym class at the Little Gym. And she was two and a half. In the usual way.
I think the classes will be a great thing for her. She will learn about what a teacher is, and learn to follow instruction, and share, and take turns, as well as all the movement and gymnastic-type things. But in order for all this stuff to occur, we have to get past the two and a half business.
Being two and a half means squirming and fussing when you should be sitting and listening. It means wandering off and exploring when you should be paying attention. It means dancing to the beat of your own drummer when you should be following the rhythm of the song that we’re all singing. It means barging into lines and taking other kids’ turns and running round and round and round in circles on one side of the room when everybody else is learning a skill on the other side of the room.
Le sigh. My kid was SO VERY two and a half today.
But the thing I like best about the Little Gym classes is that they are totally okay with that. They encourage kids to explore (safely), and express themselves (safely), and figure things out on their own (safely), and try things when they are ready and gain confidence (safely). The instructor will tell the parents at the start of class that if a child wanders around to explore, let him. Just keep an eye on him to be sure he is safe, but encourage his exploration and independence. When there’s a group activity going on, as parents we are encouraged to just participate and let the child come back and join in when they are comfortable enough or interested enough to do so. Stuff like that.
They do seem to understand kids.
So I was okay with the whole Cheese debacle this morning.
Now, the Cheese is a big ol’ crashpad shaped… well, like a wedge of cheese. It’s triangular. Whether it transmits subliminal messages that only Stinkerbelle can hear, or it has some undetected Stinkerbelle magnetic power or something, I don’t know. But whatever the reason, from the second we are asked to sit on the big activity mat in a circle to start class and sing some songs, That Baby is all “WHOA. I NEED TO GO ON THE CHEESE. OR I WILL DIE.”
I spent half the morning calling her to join us in the circle, as she bounced and marched and rolled around and periodically laid down for a tiny rest on the slope of the Cheese. She would come over and do a couple things, run in a circle with all of us, whatever, but the moment there was a break in the action, she was all CHEESE CHEESE CHEESE CHEEEEEEESE.
And then, after chatting up some of the finer selling points of the other pieces of equipment and nifty mats and other fun things to do, I finally I got her distracted long enough from the Cheese to walk on the balance beam.
“OMG THE BEAM DID YOU KNOW YOU CAN WALK ON IT BACK AND FORTH AND BACK AND FORTH OMG IT IS THE BESTEST I MUST WALK BACK AND FORTH NOW A BILLION TIMES OR I WILL DIE!!11!1!1!!eleventy!11!1″
So that was a hit. And she walked back and forth across the beam, bellowing “WALK-ING! WALK-ING! WALK-ING!” for another ten minutes, as the class went on around us. I was grateful — at least I was working with her, and she was having fun, and it was not the damn Cheese.
And then the class moved on to their “skills” section, which was: learning to do a roll DOWN THE CHEESE.
OHMYDOG THE HUMANITY.
That Baby was BESIDE herself with The Excitement. We were going to PLAY ON THE CHEESE! ALL TOGETHER! “OKAAAAAY! AWWWWWWWWRIIIIIIGHT!” So, as the teacher tried to guide the children in how to do a barrel roll down the Cheese, there was Stinkerbelle, barging into the lineup, marching up the Cheese when kids were rolling down, shouting about the Cheese, and causing three-kid pileups wherever possible.
It’s fair to say that she was being about as two and a half as she could POSSIBLY be.
I was, as you might imagine, duly mortified.
But then, the good thing about classes at the Little Gym is that while my kid is being a two and a half year old weenie, she’s not alone. There was the little boy who wailed and sobbed and cried whenever we moved on to anything new (which was every couple of minutes). There was the little boy who would sit down to play with something with Stinkerbelle and then just take it away from her again, and again, and again. There was the little girl who did not want to try ANYTHING that the class was doing. AT ALL. There was the little girl who insisted on having ALL THE BALLS.
So in actual fact, my kid fit RIGHT IN. The Cheese may stand alone, but she’s in good company.
It’s a blast. It’s chaos, to be sure, but it is mostly merry chaos, and two and a half year olds can be exactly who they are and have a whale of a time doing it.
By the end of class, when bubbles were blown and hands were stamped (I had to make mention of the fact that today’s colour of ink stamp, brown, might not work well on children with brown skin, just sayin’, and maybe not yellow either, how about blue?) and it was time to leave, Stinkerbelle was worn out. She was pooped right out. We sat down to get our shoes on and she said, quite emphatically, “BED!”
Anything that is that much fun for her and wears her out so entirely is totally 100% worth the money we paid for it. (Not to mention the Child Fitness Tax Credit. WOOT!)
So my child is now tucked up in bed having a long, deep sleep. And I myself am pretty pooped out too, I can’t lie.
What I wouldn’t give right now to have a nap. And a Cheese of my own to crash out on.
Aug
11
These are the dog days of summer. At least, I think they are — because honestly, I don’t know what, exactly, the “dog days” are. If, by “dog days”, they mean OMFG IT’S TOO FRICKING HOT AND HUMID then, yes, they are. What, do dogs sweat a lot or something? Because the phrase “sweating like a pig” also comes to mind, and, in that case, perhaps they should be called the “pig days of summer”.
There you go. I’ve coined a phrase, and a catchy one at that. And at the same time, I’ve let the dogs off the hook for the responsibility for these arsingly humid days. AND I’ve given pigs some much-needed facetime in current vernacular. So. You’re welcome.
Anyway, it’s frigging hot. But for whatever reason, I’ve chosen these days to DO ALL THE THINGS. Which could indicate that the heat is melting my brain. I am running around doing errands and making calls and going to the grocery store like some kind of wizard.
In a car with busted air conditioning. Yep. Heat melting my brain.
It’s okay. If we’re not outside doing things, then we are at home and That Baby is shouting “WHY! WHY! WHY!” at me, to indicate “PUT ‘SUPERWHY’ ON THE TELEVISION, YOU STUPID WOMAN, FOR THE LOVE OF DOG I AM BORED”. So rather than hear the SuperWhy themesong ONE. MORE. TIME., we go out.
Today, we went and did a name change for Stinkerbelle’s health card. It’s just one more tiny part in the endless bureaucracy of adopting a child, and one we have been slacking about. So we booked an appointment for today, and off we went.
Nine in the morning is a fair time to drive one’s air-conditioning-deficient car on a stupidly hot and humid day. It is still cool and the fans are blowing cool air on the occupants. So we arrived cool and fresh as a daisy at the government office.
And OMG what an office! This is one sexy building. Cool and terraced inside with glass and tile and the smell of government money — it was NICE. I may just go sit in the lobby on the next hot day and let Stinkerbelle run round and round in the revolving door.
But today was not for such amusements. Today we had an APPOINTMENT. So while That Baby shouted her brains out about doG knows what and did her high-steppin’-I-got-the-rhythm-in-me-I-can’t-stop-it thing all around the office, I did the paperwork for her name change.
It went mercifully quickly, and we got out while it was still cool-ish.
So, feeling optimistic, I decided we should head over to The Little Gym and have a little look-see and check things out. Which we did. And, as the temperature in my tin can car got exponentially hotter as we drove along, by the time we arrived I was sweaty like I had jogged there.
The woman at the desk was pleasant, and asked if we had 45 minutes to try a class out and see if we liked it.
This was a surprise, but I figured, hey — air conditioning. So I said yes.
A word to the wise: Air conditioning means little in an industrial building full of running around kids. Just sayin’.
But we stayed, and we participated, and it was good. It was good enough to convince me that this would be a good program for Stinkerbelle.
So, at the end, I said we’ll sign up for the September session.
And she said, “That will be $375 please.”
GULP.
I hesitated. I had scanned their website sixteen ways from Sunday and had not seen a fee schedule. All I saw was that a membership cost $35, and so, somewhat naively I grant you, I just assumed…
No. It was much, MUCH more than that.
I tried not to stagger backwards and hiding my surprise behind oh-so-cool stammering, stuttering and waffling, I debated walking away. But Stinkerbelle really enjoyed herself, and the program would be very good for her. And it was almost 6 months of exercise, interaction with other kids, and organized class time.
So, we’d have to cut out one of the other programs in town we wanted to register her for in order to afford this one. Fortunately, my attempts to sign her up for another program yesterday failed SPECTACULARLY — do not ASK me to recount it for you; suffice it to say it involved a voice message that essentially said, “We know that demand for these programs is high, but even though our advertising says ‘Call this number to register’, we are not answering the phones to register people. You should come and register in person. But we know that not everyone can do this. So, if you leave a phone message, we won’t call you back. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”
Soooo… Decision made. (The Little Gym will get your money, government organization bastards. HAHAHAHAHAHA.)
I registered That Baby for her program, and off we went, out the door considerably poorer and into the scorching midday heat. Where we got into our mobile sauna of a vehicle and drove off to the grocery store.
Sweat pouring off us, we did a quick run into the mercifully air-conditioned grocery store for a couple of items for supper. I am making calzones for dinner, so I wanted to buy some pre-made bread dough. If you have not purchased this before, it can be found in a freezer in the bakery and it costs next to nothing. You let it rise when you get home and voila! Instant fresh bread.
Except when you have to drive in zillion-degree heat. In which case, your bag of bread dough goes POOF! and puffs up like a startled cat in the three minutes it takes to drive home.
Le sigh.
So this afternoon, it’s a couple of episodes of SuperWhy in the air conditioned comfort of Stinkerbelle’s playroom, followed by a dunk in the kiddie pool in the backyard. To be followed by more air-conditioned goodness. And poofy calzones.
And tomorrow, when it is stinking hot again, rather than get a bee in my bonnet to run off and do some stupid errands, I’m planning to do exactly nothing and leaving the day to the dogs. Or the pigs. Whatever.
Aug
10
Summer will soon be drawing to a close, and so in many communities, it’s that time again: the time for registering children for their fall and winter activities.
For Stinkerbelle, this is a Very Big Deal. She is coming to an age where she will be soon be able to participate in a whole bunch of new activities, things she has had no exposure to before. Things like dance classes, sports programs, social programs and memberships generally start when a child is 3 or 4, and at almost 2 1/2, Stinkerbelle is going to be able to attend some pre-preschool sorts of things this fall.
She needs to get into some programs. While having a stay-at-home mom is a benefit to lots of kids, one of the drawbacks is that, unless the child’s mom is well connected with friends with children, the kid’s going to spend a lot of time playing alone. Stinkerbelle sure does. So it is time for her to get out and meet new kids and play and socialize.
When we met That Baby, two years ago now, the caregivers we spoke to said she was a very social baby. If she fussed or cried, all they had to do was put her down next to another child and she was as happy as can be. She loves other children, and always has done. So I feel bad that she was saddled with a mom who is old and has few friends with kids her age, and one that is unable to connect with other moms well enough to have playmates for her to visit.
She needs some time with other kids. It’s time.
So I have been spending some time this week looking at what to enroll her in for the fall. I don’t want to overprogram her; as a minor sports coach, I have seen kids who are way overprogrammed by their overly ambitious parents, and it is not pretty. But I do want to find a couple of programs she can attend during the week and have some fun.
First off, we always look at swimming. Stinkerbelle loves swimming (her visit to Grammy and Grandad’s and her reluctance to get in the pool we’ll put down to her being sick). The problem with swimming lessons is the age divisions. When That Baby started swimming lessons, she was a Duck. The Duck age division is something like 1 year to 3 years of age. That means that she has been a Duck for 3 sessions of lessons already, and will be for two more.
Even for a water baby like Stinkerbelle, it’s a bit repetitive.
So we are going to have to find something a little different. I want to keep her swimming, and so maybe a program that combines activities and playtime AND swimming might be in order. Or, maybe we’ll have to just suck it up and be Ducks again this year.
Another option I want to pursue is to enroll her in our local Little Gym. Stinkerbelle really seems to love running and jumping and the like, so maybe a gym class might be something fun for her. It’s also a segue into some gymnastics and dance and karate classes as she grows, if she likes the Little Gym and the environment. So we will probably give it a try.
So, that will be two days a week. That’s pretty good.
We’ve also got some drop-in programs at our Early Years Centre, as well as offered by the various social programs in town, that we could look into. I am hopeful that some of these might appeal to us as well. That way, when it is getting colder and we are feeling housebound, we can get out of the house and play for a couple of hours.
What we really need is a regular, reliable playdate, for some fun, unstructured playtime. Our weekly playdates will be ending shortly as Stinkerbelle’s little buddy will be going to daycare and his mom off to work, so we won’t have that time to get out and play as we are used to. So, that’s something I am going to have to work on.
Soon, I am also going to have to find some structured programs for That Baby where I just drop her off for a morning or two somewhere. You know, something preschool-like. Gah. Can time be flying that quickly, that we’re soon going to have to start thinking about preschool? Well, not this year, but this time next year, she’ll be 3 and it will be time. So we have to start looking to reserve a spot.
That prospect intimidates me to no end. And saddens me. Our time with Stinkerbelle as a baby seems to have gone by so fast. Too fast. And when I think of the fact that there probably won’t ever be another baby in our house…
Excuse me. I have something in my EYE.
In the meantime, I have to continue to find things for That Baby to do in the fall and winter. She will have a busy social life — certainly moreso than her mom, at this rate.
I can’t lie — I am comforted by the fact that we still have to plan her social life around naptime. My baby is still a baby for a little bit longer.
Jul
28
You know that song, “Rain, rain, go away… Come again some other day”?
How about, “It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring…”?
Yeah. My kid doesn’t.
Right now, we are sitting out on the porch watching the rain and hoping for a storm to roll in. My kid loves water, in all forms. Pools, hoses, taps, rain, snow… water ROCKS. She loves it in all its precipitational glory. So the fact that it is raining? Has her excited beyond measure.
Now, she’s not terribly verbal. So her way of indicating to me, and to the world at large, that she is excited about the rain, is to shout things like “RAIN!” and “MORE!” and “WOW!” as often as possible. And this full-throated appreciation of Mother Nature’s gifts is also accompanied by a little jitterbug of joy as she points at the rain and shouts “RAIN!” for the eleventybillionth time.
You know, in case the neighbouring province hasn’t heard that it is raining here.
She’s also doing this little thing in which (in her mind) she is being very sneaky and (in her mind) she can inch ever so slightly toward the porch steps and (in her mind) I will not notice that she has suddenly found herself standing out in said rain and, (in her mind) because she is already wet I will let her play in the rain.
Yeah. Noisy AND delusional.
So, her shouting and dancing and sneaking is periodically interrupted by me, very sternly saying her name, and pointing to the porch surface on which her bum should, in fact, be parked.
It’s a nice way to pass the time in a storm.
And when it is done? We (read: she) will spend our (read: her) time shouting “MORE!” in increasingly loud and desperate tones as her command for more rain goes unnoticed by the forces of nature.
If I had a crystal ball, I bet one of the visions of the future I would see is of a very old Stinkerbelle, on the phone, shouting at some poor sod at Environment Canada about every change in the weather.
Kind of makes me happy, that.
Jul
26
Yesterday we had a break in the humidity. It was 25 degrees and breezy during the day, which is like the complete opposite to what it was like on Friday and Saturday. On those days, it was rainy, and it was so humid and so warm that opening a door to go outside was like walking into a bathroom where somebody was taking a really hot shower.
But yesterday…. yesterday was just a beautiful summer day. So, after breakfast was done, and some cleaning was taken care of, we decided to spend some time outdoors enjoying the day.
We took That Baby to her favourite park where we were faced with a notice that the park was scheduled to have all its current playground equipment removed and replaced with new up-to-current-safety-standard equipment. Well, I didn’t know the current equipment was below standard, but whatever. The place was empty, and we stood in the shade of the big pines and That Baby enjoyed some Swing Time. Then, it was over to the slides (there are three) where she climbed up and mastered the biggest, curliest slide of the bunch. She played hard and was pooped out as the time came to leave, telling everything “Bye bye!” and waving as we made our way out of the park and back to the car, and “bye bye!” all the way home.
I was tired out from, well, never getting enough sleep EVER. So BDH said he’d hold down the fort while I took a nap. I gratefully accepted. While I and Stinkerbelle napped, BDH was a yard work machine, mowing the lawn, whipper snipping the perimeter and around rocks and gardens, pulling weeds from both the front and back lawns, weeding the patio, weeding the gardens… I woke up to find him sitting on the patio, somewhat crispy from the sun, and everything looking tidy and neat. It was lovely.
He had also filled up Stinkerbelle’s paddling pool while we were sleeping, so when she woke up from her nap, it was SPLASH TIME for That Baby! She had a big time, splashing, jumping, pouring water in and out, and just generally being as wet as babily possible, while her dad and I finished up some weeding and trimming of some unruly plants. She ran around the yard, getting warm in the sunshine, and then back into the water for another round of splashing. Well, there was a brief interlude where we watched her stomping splash, splash, splash, along the brickwork edging of our back garden, and realized that she’d had a big pee and was stomping merrily through it, but that was easily remedied with a garden hose. Then, we grabbed her and tossed her into the pool, over and over and over again, until we were all fairly tired.
After supper was done and That Baby was tucked up in bed, the evening was cooling down. I sat on the patio with some knitting, a mug of tea, and an icepack for my foot, while BDH read a few chapters of a Bill Bryson book aloud. It was quiet and peaceful and relaxing. A lovely end to a lovely day.
Finally, at bedtime, I found myself with an extra bedmate, as Lucy showed up. Now, Lucy injured a paw sometime on the weekend — she’s hobbling and won’t bear much weight on it. (We’re on vacation in less than a week, and true to form, it would not be vacation time if one of the cats didn’t get sick or injured so that we worry the entire time we’re away.) Anyway, Lucy’s built like a greyhound, all loping strides and long legs, so she tends to sprain or strain her paws on occasion, from jumping too high or running to fast or scrambling around like a neurotic squirrel on crack. So this injury, while concerning, is not unusual. Anyway, she needed some comfort, and joined me for a cuddle on the big bed, and ended up staying cuddled up next to me almost the entire night. I have lived my entire life with allergies and asthma, and dreamed of the day when I could have one of my cats sleep with me. It doesn’t happen often. But on these rare occasions, when one of them is sick or hurt, I make a space, take some antihistamines, and get to have a rare and much-enjoyed cuddle. I never get much sleep when this happens, but it’s okay. Even the furry ones need some Mom time sometimes.
And now, I am tired from a full day yesterday, and a not terribly restful night. But looking back, it was worth it. All in all, it was a wonderful summer day.
Jul
23
It’s been a busy week here at the House of Peevish. Some weeks are like that. But it has been “good” busy, so that helps a lot.
- Early in the week, we managed to get out for a walk on an overcast morning. We walked up to That Baby’s favourite park. It was amazing how still and quiet it was. Everybody was either at work or out of town for holidays, it seems, because it was quieter still than a regular work day morning. So we played there for awhile, and then began to explore. We followed a path into the nearby schoolyard, only to find a path leading through some trees to a hidden park. Houses were built around the perimeter of this grassy space, where there was a baseball field and a soccer field and some climbing equipment and a slide. It is all completely hidden from the roads and neighbourhoods around, and completely sheltered and green and quiet. We’ve lived here ten years, and walked by hundreds of times, and I never knew it was there. It’s like a secret garden.
- My kid is a water baby. She loves to be in the water (provided it is warm enough). Just like her parents. I am amazed at how brave she is. Yesterday we went for our regular play date with our friends, and they suggested we go swimming in another friend’s pool. Well, hot and sunny… OF COURSE WE WILL. So we got there and got our gear on and off we went to the pool. Stinkerbelle went in without hesitation — well, a little hesitation, and she got used to the temperature of the water — and within minutes she was jumping in off the side of the pool. She has no problem going underwater, although her standard response to any exciting or interesting situation is an open-mouthed, open-armed “O-face”, and so whenever she’s excited and in the water, she ends up getting a snoot-full of water. So under she would go, and I’d haul her up and out and onto the pool side coughing and sputtering but grinning, where she would choke out “MORE! MORE! MORE!” and leap off the side again. She even went off the slide a few times yesterday. The kid’s part fish.
- Stinkerbelle has some issues with eating — specifically, she won’t eat anything that is a) not pureed to some degree, or 2) not solid and crunchy. She likes the taste of almost everything we offer, but she can’t seem to handle the textures. This makes mealtime a challenge as she will choke on things, doesn’t chew, and will cry if she thinks she can’t handle swallowing something. She doesn’t self-feed much, because we’re so concerned with keeping her full and her weight up that we can’t afford to spill much. Mealtimes can take hours. So we have been concerned about this for some time. Related to this, her speech is not progressing as it should be. Her communication is advanced; her speech is not. So we’ve been stressing. On Wednesday, we finally got our appointment for an assessment with a KidsAbility team of an occupational therapist and a speech therapist. It was FANTASTIC. We were relieved to find that she hasn’t likely got any sensory disorder issues, because of the things she CAN do. So that was good. What we have learned is that she is delayed in eating and speech, most likely by the first five months she spent in the transition home in Ethiopia. As they had one standard size of bottles, nipples and soothers for all the children, it likely was too much for her to handle as an infant. That first 6 months of oral development is key, and hers was likely affected by the giant, fast-flow nipples and whatnot. Therefore, the sensors in her mouth did not get a chance to learn to cope properly with what she was being given, and she is still learning to cope with different shapes and textures, and learning what is safe and what she can handle. So, we have a lot of work ahead of us, but we were relieved to find that it’s very easily remedied with time and patience.
- Based on the assessment we had, which was so much fun — they played with Stinkerbelle and were so impressed by how bright and funny she is, and once they had her belly laughing they were COMPLETELY smitten — we got a few referrals. We’ll be seeing a speech therapist to work on speech and an occupational therapist to work on chewing and the technical stuff around eating. We’ll also be seeing a nutritionist to help us plan out her introduction of new foods and textures, as well as how to load up her food nutritionally until we get fully into the solid stuff. We’re also signed up to be part of an organization called Trellis, which is a huge community resource that we can use to find specialists, childcare resources, day cares, and other resources for us and for That Baby until she is school aged. It sounds really awesome. I never realized how much is out there for parents to access to help raise their kids. But my favourite part of the assessment was hearing the therapists say “Oh, we can’t WAIT to write up this assessment! It’s going to be so much fun! Stinkerbelle is just AWESOME!” It’s great to get validation that your kid is doing well, and that as a parent, you’re not screwing up. All that worry has just vanished, knowing that my kid is healthy and happy.
- We are working on documentation for Stinkerbelle’s citizenship. (“Ontario — where paperwork is a way of life.”) After having our paperwork for her name change rejected THREE TIMES, once it finally came back we were all “SCREW YOU, GOVERNMENT” and could not face doing any more for a little while. But now we are back at it, and we needed some photos for our citizenship application. So off we went to the mall to get photos done. And let me tell you, taking passport photos of a toddler is no mean feat. The photographer got her to stand atop a step stool. Keeping a toddler ON a step stool, and still enough to photograph is, we have learned, a LOT of work. We had to make sure Daddy was not in the shot, so holding her up there while keeping out of camera sight took some coordination. Then, we had to get her looking AT the camera, which involved me standing behind the cameraman, who was waving a fuzzy toy bunny at her, and me also waving a toy, and simultaneously calling her name, snapping fingers and/or clapping. We finally got a shot fit to print. And, having seen it, now we don’t want to give it away to the citizenship people, because it is so CUTE.
A busy week, to be sure. But it was a good one. And now, the humidest, rainiest day of the summer thus far is upon us. So, aside from a trip to the grocery store (if we even do that), it will be nice to have a down day.
Jul
14
If ever there was a doubt in anyone’s mind that That Baby was meant to be my daughter, it was completely, 100%, completely erased yesterday.
Yesterday, on the 25th anniversary of LiveAid, we began our day of listening to the performances from that day in 1985 with what has been recognized as the greatest live rock performance of all time: Queen’s set at Wembley.
Over her morning waffle, Stinkerbelle sat riveted, bopping her head and telling me “Boy! Walk!” as Freddie strutted around the stage in front of her. She was enchanted.
And then, in due course, the clip was over.
And That Baby? Her little face just crumpled, and she CRIED. She began to wail with a great sadness. And cried “MORE! MORE! MORE!”, big tears rolling down her cheeks.
I was so proud. My kid loves, REALLY LOVES, music. Just like her mama.
We watched Freddie a bunch more times yesterday, That Baby singing along, and once breakfast was done, she spun and hopped and danced around the kitchen. My little African rock-and-roll baby, singing along with me to the original, the great, African-Asian rock star, celebrating the day of music and awareness that began life’s pull on me towards Africa.
Sometimes, the fates get it right.
Jul
9
It has been a hot humid week. It saps your energy. Who am I kidding? It saps your will to live, as the sweat forms in places it should not, pooling up under your boobs and then running in rivulets down your belly whenever you shift your gift. Ugh. It is NO GOOD NO.
But we woke this morning to rain, and this is good. And it is Friday, which is always good. So, we have good plus good. I suppose that’s all one can hope for in a day, huh.
So I was determined to sit down and write something. But it is still too hot and humid to write ALL the things. So here are SOME things, at least THREE things. Just some randomness to keep you amused as we head into the weekend.
- It is raining. It rained, quite heavily in fact, for a lot of the morning. It’s still as humid as the asscrack of Satan, but at least the gardens got some water. So this means that I don’t have to spend an hour trucking bucketloads of water from That Baby’s paddling pool to each garden individually at the end of the day, back and forth, back and forth, in an effort to keep the plants from suffering as well as trying to be environmentally friendly and not waste water. Now I can just dump it out and go “Here you go, lawn! Drink up!”
- I have almost completed our first yearly report as required for our adoption. I know there are parents out there who are refusing to do them — no reason in the world justifies not doing these reports, none at all, as far as I am concerned — but that is not something that will be discussed here. And having done my first one all alone, which took all of, what, an hour? It was easy peasy. And it was great fun to look back on the last year and chronicle all of the things Stinkerbelle has been doing and learning and being.
- Okay, I lied just there. It has actually taken me more than an hour, because OHMYDOG THE PHOTOS. I have been taking photos every day as part of my Project 365 — yes I know, I have not updated the page in forever, I AM BUSY CLEANING ALL THE THINGS AND GOING TO THE BANK LIKE AN ADULT WHAT AM I SOME KIND OF WIZARD?? — so while the report took no time at all to write up, it took forever to actually decide out of those thousands of photos which ones I wanted to use. I started with NINE PAGES OF PICTURES. NINE!! Nobody needs to see that many photos of my kid, right? It was a challenge, but I pared it down to five pages. I have to be honest — I LOVE this part of the paperwork.
- That Baby is talking. Half the time I have no freaking clue what she’s saying, but it is RIVETING. She’s all babbling and shouting and pointing and gesturing and I have absolutely no idea about what, but IT IS SOME TALKING RIGHT THERE. When she does come out with words, YAY. We are encouraging this, because a) communication is good, and 2) it’s nice to know what the heck she’s on about. And sometimes it is random, but random can be good. She will walk over to me and say “Caribou!” or whatever, and then go about her business. Alrighty then. Works for me. And when it’s not random, when she says something that she’s just picked up somewhere, it’s awesome. Yesterday, she pointed and said “guitar” and I looked to see she was pointing out a guitar on the wall. Today it was “light on”. Cool, man.
- I’ve been knitting a lot. Knitting, knitting, knitting. Baby blankets being finished and started. A scarf that has been patiently waiting to be picked up again. Squares for charity. A bib or two. But oh holy hell, sitting with knitting on your lap in this weather is not very bright. I am also determined to work my way through my stash before I allow myself to buy more yarn. At least, that is the theory. I’m a magpie about yarn. OOH! SHINY! LOOKIT THE BRIGHT COLOURS! OOH! And sales, too. Oh my doG do not TELL me there’s yarn on sale somewhere.
- My clothesline experiment has gone mostly okay. Our laundry no longer smells like rubbery farts, so that is PROGRESS. But today I went grocery shopping, and had to buy more laundry soap. I bought just regular soap, without fabric softener in it. Because last time, I bought a whole (what is the correct collective noun for fabric softener? Bucket? Loaf? Assload?) of fabric softener. And I came home and read the instructions. It said, “put the fabric softener into the dispenser in your machine”. Okay, my washer is over 10 years old, and it is CHEAP ASS. It does not HAVE a dispenser. So then it said, “Or put it in a Downy ball”. Well we looked everywhere, and I am here to tell you that they do not MAKE Downy Balls anymore. So then it said, “Or put it in the rinse cycle”. So you want me to run for the washer, toddler in tow, to put this in the rinse cycle? From wherever I am with my goldfish-encrusted, Sesame-Street-addicted, spinning-and-dancing toddler, up the stairs, at some magical appointed time? Do I even KNOW when the rinse cycle IS? But “lazy” and “inept” is trumped by “cheap”, and since the regular joe soap was on sale, and we already HAVE the bucket o’ fabric softener… Looks like I’m going to learn to start running up stairs with a flailing toddler. DAMN YOU, CLOTHESLINE! YOU’VE BESTED ME AGAIN!!
Jun
16
I had a moment of pure joy yesterday, because I was lucky enough to observe a moment of pure joy.
I took my daughter out for a walk yesterday afternoon. We walk around the block and she pushes her babies in their stroller. She gets some exercise and fresh air and a change in her environment and gets to see people and things. And I get… something. Anyway. It’s something we enjoy doing.
Our street is full of small children, and many of them are Stinkerbelle’s age, or close to it. Across from us is a little almost-2 year old girl and her big brother, who is almost 5, and next door to them is a quiet 7 year old girl. A few doors down is a little almost-2 year old boy and his sister Leah who is probably 4. Up the street are two sisters, aged 5 and 9, and next door to them are two girls aged 4 and 7. Up the street further still is a shy little fellow, too shy at 3 to speak to us but not too shy to walk around the neighbourhood in his new big boy underpants, and his sister Rachel, who loves Stinkerbelle’s hairdos and regularly asks her mom to imitate them — a challenge with her fine, wavy blonde hair.
There are more, many more, but they are the closest.
Anyway, we often see kids when we are out walking, and That Baby loves to see them and yearns to play with them, but she is usually too little. Or, more accurately, they don’t know her because her somewhat antisocial, older and unpretty mom doesn’t know their younger, thinner, wealthier moms, and so they don’t want to play with her. This has been bothering me, that my daughter may not have friends on our street to play with because I don’t have friends on our street that I play with. So I have been making great efforts recently to say hello to parents and kids we pass when we are out walking, rather than just quietly shepherd That Baby by as I have grown accustomed to doing.
It takes a lot of effort. It is not what I am good at.
Anyway, back to yesterday. I decided to take Stinkerbelle out for a walk. She grabbed her stroller and her babies and off we went. We started up the sidewalk, up the hill. We were pushing along up the hill, when, about 100 yards away at the top of the hill, two little girls appeared on the sidewalk. It was Leah, on a bike, and Rachel, walking.
Then I heard the most wonderful sound. Leah and Rachel began shouting, “MOM! It’s Stinkerbelle! Stinkerbelle is out! Mom! MOM! STINKERBELLE IS HERE!” And I saw them dancing with impatience.
Stinkerbelle heard her name and looked up. Leah and Rachel were rushing down the sidewalk towards us, calling her name.
And that is when I saw the most incredible look of pure joy come across Stinkerbelle’s face.
FRIENDS.
It was the first time, EVER I think, when Stinkerbelle has had little friends come running to see her. The realization that there were other children who wanted to see her, who were happy to see her and wanted to play with her, caused her to erupt in a little dance of pure joy and start barrelling up the sidewalk to meet them.
And seeing that look on my daughter’s face made me well up. With joy. With relief.
The realization that my child has friends, and the joy I felt sharing in her happiness.
The relief that I have not completely screwed up my child. Not yet, anyway.
I watched them, chattering and squealing and dancing around as excited little girls are wont to do. It was wonderful.
And, as I walked my happy, glowing baby home after her little visit, I wiped more than a few tears from my eyes.
Jun
15
Two is an interesting age. Stinkerbelle is two, in all its random, emo, listening-impaired glory, but it has its good points as well as its struggles. I plan what I do with my time when she is awake with her twoness in mind. I am trying to temper my reactions to everything That Baby does with, “Well, you’re TWO.”
And if you can do that, then there’s some of the battle won. But it is not always easy.
Today, we are trying to spend some time outdoors. It is warm and breezy, so we can sit in the front of the house where there is shade in the morning, and then plan to be out back in the sun and shade after naptime. So I have been trying to come up with things to do outside with a two year old.
Some days, she likes to walk. And walk and walk and walk. Whether she is pushing her babies in their stroller or just walking with Dorothy in hand, she likes to walk.
But not today. Today? Is NOT for walking.
Believe me, I tried.
We walked with her babies, for a bit. Say, 200 metres. And then, she decided to sit down on the sidewalk amid someone else’s drawings in sidewalk chalk. And go no further. So I found myself cajoling and compromising with and exhorting and just generally nagging at a small person covered in purple and yellow chalk who has absolutely no intention of recognizing my presence.
There will be NO WALKING TODAY. So we went home.
There’s not much for a two year old to do at home today, apparently, outside. There are no kids to play with, or at least, none outside today, which is unfortunate because they are an excellent way to keep That Baby amused for quite some time. So we must look to ourselves for amusement. And that is a challenge. Blowing bubbles held no appeal today. Reading books diverted her only momentarily. And many toys are not a good option. We live on a hill, so riding her bike, playing with a stroller, playing with a ball, ALL are ill-advised. Unless you wish to a) supervise constantly to keep whatever rolly object she is playing with from rolling away down the hill to much baby giggling, or 2) allow your child to careen out into traffic on or in pursuit of said rolly object.
Neither looked like much of an option today.
All That Baby wanted to do, for AN HOUR, was sit and lick my keys. So, I grabbed our weed puller and a basket to take care of the front lawn, while she sat on the step, keys in varying degrees of hand and mouth.
Well, there are worse things in the world to lick. The cat, gravel, and the car all come to mind. Believe me, she’s licked them all. So in the grand scheme of things, my keys are not so bad. And it keeps her mostly in one place as she is too absorbed in having the keys in her mouth to do anything else.
It works for us.
But that, too, eventually became boring, and I would look up from my weeding to find my daughter had somehow teleported over to the neighbour’s porch.
She did this a couple of times. So, either the keys/mouth combination has some magical time/space altering properties, or That Baby is getting bored AND fast.
So we needed to find something else to do.
But here’s the thing: on days like this, Stinkerbelle has no discernible intention of listening to my suggestions of going for a walk, or reading some books, or whatever, and her own suggestions of wandering off, licking various things, and running out into traffic are not going to work for me. Don’t even THINK about suggesting going into the backyard — a safe, enclosed, flat expanse of grass and toys and other fun things, but where there is NO POSSIBILITY OF KIDS!! — without Teh Big Drama, and lots of crying and wailing and gnashing of teeth. So, no matter what we choose, there’s bound to be either boredom or tears from That Baby a lot of the time.
Another problem is that the average two year old has the attention span of a gnat or a bowl of pudding or a soap dish, and so even if you DO find something to amuse them, it will last only about 45 seconds, if you are lucky, before they are on to the next thing. So once the book is “read”, it is heaved off the porch. Once the playdoh is “played with”, it is chucked off the tray. Once the shapes cease to amuse with their varied shapey-ness… well, you get the idea.
And often, when this happens? It is YOUR FAULT. Or the TOY’s fault.
Well, it is SOMEBODY’S FAULT. Oh, the humanity!! And a great wailing will occur.
But then, the upside is that a two year old’s day lasts, what, 5 hours or so, from breakfast to lunch, and a goodly portion of that time is occupied with eating and changing diapers and such, and then comes the blessed naptime and then it’s like a NEW DAY, as she wakes up renewed and refreshed and starts over again with an optimistic attitude and a renewed outlook on Things To Do Today.
Some days, it is very hard being two. But as long as I can keep perspective, keep reminding myself that This Is TWOOOOOOO!!! (“This Is SPARTAAAAAA!!!!”) and just going with WHATEVER with a sense of humour and calm, then it is not so bad being a two year old’s mother.
May
28
This week, despite being hot and sticky and us being sick, is still a special one around here.
It is, first off, the birthday week of Stinkerbelle’s most excellent Auntie Heather. She is Swedish, so her birthday celebrations — ALL celebrations, actually — take on a festival quality and last much longer than a single day. And as she has gone and kicked cancer’s ass this year, it is truly a time to celebrate. So happy birthday Heather!
But beyond that, and I happen to think more than coincidentally, Auntie Heather’s birthday shares the very same day that, two years ago, we received our referral for That Baby, and saw her gorgeous face for the first time. It was an excellent day.
We don’t celebrate our referral anniversary in any special way anymore — the first year, yes we did. But now there is so much more to celebrate. Our lives are full every day of the joys that that first day would one day bring. It still holds a special place in our hearts, though, and of course always will.
I look back on those first photos and can’t help but cry. She was so tiny. She was barely 6 weeks old. She had such long fingers and such big eyes and such awesome hair. And she was ours.
Every single day since that day has been a blessing I could never have imagined, but always hoped for. She is a child of superlatives. She is so good, so good-natured, so happy, so well-behaved, so funny, so beautiful, so full of love. We could never have hand-picked a child so perfect and so perfect for us. She is the child of our dreams.
We look back and, while it was hard for us at the time, we realize how incredibly fortunate we were in our adoption of Stinkerbelle. I will never forget the agonizing waiting periods, the frustrating paperwork, the whole heartwrenching process. But we are reminded regularly that it was, compared to many families’ experiences, so easy.
Every day, I hold her close, and I remind myself just how incredibly lucky we are. How blessed.
Our lives started over again on that day in 2008. Like another birthday. We were given the chance to live a life we had only ever dreamed of. And we are making, and will continue to make, the most of every single day together.
May
26
We are all of the above. Not all of us, all the time, and not necessarily in that order… but we are busy and hot and sick.
It has been SUMMER here; or at least, very summer-like. A week of 30 degree days and sweet cool nights. It has been GLORIOUS. May Two-Four was one of the nicest holiday weekends in memory, and made us regret not having access to a cottage anymore, but still, we had lots to do and a great weekend close to home.
BDH has been nothing short of awesome around here recently. Work for him is insanely, unreasonably, ridiculously busy, and yet he does it without complaint. The fact that he is away from his little girl so much is so hard on both of them, and makes me want to punch someone, on both of their behalfs. (“Behalfs”. Is that a word? I do not know. If it is not, it should be. I am using it anyway. Grammar be damned.) But he is working hard at work, and then has been coming home and has done some amazing work at home too.
On Saturday, he began cleaning the garage and taking stuff to the dump. Now, uninitiated Reader, you have no idea the of the magnitude of this last sentence. Our garage has been, in recent years, the repository of all the things we don’t want/want to throw out/no longer want to see, and has been stuffed to the limit with boxes and old mattresses and gardening gear and old computer equipment. (And one Adventure Mouse. If I were a mouse, I’d have moved in there too.) But he got up and just started clearing stuff out. Loading it into the truck. Driving to the dump. Clearing. Loading. Driving. Lather, rinse, repeat.
It looks AWESOME. I can FIND THINGS. I can WALK IN AND OUT. From EITHER end.
Sunday and Monday, he carried on with some long-awaited backyard construction he began, for the third or fourth time, the weekend before. I should explain: we began a stone patio many years ago, until we ran out of time and money and motivation. It sat, unfinished, for several years, until Grammy and Grandad came to visit Stinkerbelle when she first came home, and together, BDH and his parents finished up the patio part. Then, a week ago, BDH started construction of some privacy screens, in which he also impaled his finger on a running drill.
(Ahem. Yes. Blood and gore. Slightly more than a paper cut, slightly less than a horror film. Ick. But he’s healing up nicely — there’s not really much you can do for a drill-sized hole in one’s finger except for bandaids, antibiotics, a tetanus shot, and time.)
So Sunday and Monday, the privacy screens were finished, and he started on some stairs from our patio door down to the patio. BDH is a man who has thought he might enjoy doing home improvement stuff, but has never had the nerve to really dive into it. Well, I am here to tell you, he’s doing a FANTASTIC job. I LOVE my patio. It’s as hot as hell, a stone patio on a south-facing house, but it is LOVELY, and will be a wonderful place to sit in the evenings and whatnot.
But it has been HOT, not just on the patio but everywhere, and so we are doing our best to go out and do things but not die from sunstroke or sunburn. It has been a week where I have taken a couple of hours before 11 am to do some yard work, parking That Baby in her empty paddling pool under a tree with some toys, and started to reclaim our gardens. It is slow going, with a busybody toddler getting into everything all the time. But it has been two years since we’ve had any time or energy or money to devote to our yard and gardens, and their neglect is coming back to haunt us. So, bit by bit, I have been yanking weeds, finding what perennials are still alive, and pulling endless weeds from the lawn.
It’s slow. But it will get there, eventually. I have yet to face the vegetable garden, which is in full sun and hopelessly covered in weeds, onions gone to seed (that never grew at all in last year’s wet, cold summer) and wild parsley.
And it is here that I will pause for a Public Service Announcement.
ATTENTION ALL GARDENERS. DO NOT PLANT PARSLEY. IT IS THE HERB OF THE DEVIL, AND WILL GET INTO EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE — YOUR LAWN, YOUR PATIO, YOUR OTHER GARDENS. IT’S INSIDIOUS AND EVIL AND IMPOSSIBLE TO KILL. IT IS THE FOOD OF BEELZEBUB. RESIST THE TEMPTATION AND DO NOT PLANT EVEN A SINGLE PLANT. BESIDES, NOBODY EVER EATS PARSLEY ANYWAY.
You’re welcome.
Okay, so. Back to the backyard. It is as hot as hell. So we have spent the afternoons working while Stinkerbelle splashes in her paddling pool. And, let’s be honest — I’ve spent a fair bit of time standing and soaking my feet in the pool too. And if she splashes me… well, it’s a bonus.
But we’ve also been looking to beat the heat. Last week, we went to the Early Years Centre in the mall, to play with other kids in air-conditioned comfort. But where there are children, there are viruses and such, and that means… both Stinkerbelle and I now have a cold.
She has really been suffering. A cough and an endlessly running nose is not fun in the heat of summer (which it isn’t really yet, but it’s hot enough to be.) Yesterday, she was miserable, and just stood in her pool and cried. But I am a cheap bastard, and don’t believe in turning on the air conditioning until it is absolutely necessary, so there’s really been no other way to stay cool.
Until this warm and humid morning, when our East-Coast raised, heat-intolerant, but endlessly kind and caring BDH listened to That Baby coughing in the early morning and saw me wake up looking fairly miserable, and decreed that It Is Absolutely Necessary. He turned on the A/C, so that we could stay indoors and cool and have a little down time to rest. And then, to make doubly sure we didn’t have to go anywhere or do anything, he dashed down to the store for some lozenges for me and yogurt for That Baby before he went off to work. BDH is once again stuck working late and away from his darling girl, so this is one way he can be sure he is taking good care of us even though he cannot be here.
So here we sit in increasingly air conditioned comfort, playing with playdoh and sucking on lozenges and watching Sesame Street. And later we will have a yogurt snack.
There are many things to be done — gardening, construction, cleaning, laundry. They’ll still be there tomorrow.
May
12
It’s rainy and cold here this week. We’re stuck indoors, and That Baby is the PICTURE of bored. She is bored out of her skull. She is bored like a bored thing that is really, really bored.
So this morning, I just couldn’t stand it anymore. We went to the mall.
We’re lucky in that we have a really good mall about 2 minutes’ drive from here. On warmer days, we could walk, and it’s only about 20 minutes’ walk. But since it’s cold and rainy, we opted for the drive.
I packed a diaper bag with diapers and a change of clothes and a sippy and some toys, and off we went. I wasn’t entirely sure what we’d do there, but Stinkerbelle needed new shoes so I thought that might be something. But beyond that, since BDH and I have started another 100 Day exercise challenge, I’d get in my exercise walking around the mall.
We strollered into the mall, and it was nice and quiet. A few older folks, some young women, and a whole lot of stroller moms. I guess I was not the only one feeling housebound with her kid today.
We stopped in and got some shoes at the kids’ clothing stores. Some sandals at Oshkosh, some runners and water shoes at Children’s Place… and dancing with the staff at Children’s Place. (Yeah. My kid’s got the rhythm in her. She can’t stop it.) So that was good — I got something done, quickly and easily. Already the morning was a success.
But beyond that, it was all about the walking. Up and down the hallways, around into other wings, up, down… it’s a decent walk. I know it’s a popular indoor walking destination in winter (but one that we hadn’t taken advantage of yet).
I let Stinkerbelle out to get some exercise, too. She needed to get her ya-yas out something fierce. So I watched and followed along as she marched, and trotted, and danced, and babbled and waved at strangers, and just generally had some fun. She was a bit loud — she’s big on cheerful, boisterous self-expression — but nobody seemed to mind this morning.
And she has a tendency to run headlong into a store and start boogie-ing it up between the displays if she hears a tune she loves — so I am sure the folks at the lingerie store and the mens’ clothing place got a kick out of her, too.
That Baby loves the wide open spaces in the mall, the different coloured tiles on the floor, the skylights and high ceilings. She pointed to everything, and explored everywhere. But after about an hour, she was getting bored.
So I decided it was time to go upstairs and check out the Early Years Centre.
I don’t know if other places have programs like the Ontario Early Years Centres, but doG love our gub’mint for coming up with the idea. They have drop-in programs where kids up to the age of six can go with their parents or caregivers and just play, and they have registered programs for playing, learning and special needs as well. All free of charge. We had never been before, other than to peek in and see what was what, but many of our friends had been to their local OEYC and loved them.
We went in and the foyer was FULL of strollers. So there was a ringing endorsement. And the staffers who met us were welcoming and pleasant. There was a drop-in playtime today until 1 pm, so we filled in our initial registration for the Centre and in we went.
Stinkerbelle was ENCHANTED. There was a WHOLE ROOM full of TOYS. There were KIDS, mostly babies, but still. KIDS. We went through the door and she was OFF. She immediately sat down with two younger babies, and stole one of their balls.
Whoops. Not a great first impression, there, Kid.
But I headed her off before there were tears, and redirected her to a toy I thought she would LOVE: a ball yard. It was a soft swimming-pool-like contraption full of plastic balls. I plonked her in.
If there’s one toy That Baby loves above all others, it’s a ball. So, to be in a bin FULL of them?
She was in HEAVEN.
Stinkerbelle played in that bin for the ENTIRE time we were at the Centre. Kids came and played with her, one by one, until it was a swimming pool full of under-2s. And even as they then drifted off to try other toys, there she sat, buried in balls, and as happy as a pig in poop.
I tried to take her to play with another toy once. She wailed a huge WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH of sorrow and heartbreak.
I put her back.
Eventually, it was lunchtime, time to leave. Oh the tears! Oh the sadness! Oh the wailing!
The Early Years Centre was a hit. I could tell.
We packed up and came home, but That Baby was miserable through lunch. She was EXHAUSTED from all the dancing and the walking and the playing. I put her down for her nap, and there was barely a peep for two hours. And she woke up happy and ready to go again.
What started as a lousy, cold, boring day turned out to be a fun-filled morning for Stinkerbelle and a productive and pleasant one for me. I guess you can’t ask for much more on an average day.
And now that we know… We’re pencilling in a regular playtime at the mall.
