camp chronicles : mouse in the house

I'm terrified of mice. This is a relatively new fear that I have developed, and one that I wish I could go back and reverse, but unfortunately I don't think that's possible, unless I'm willing to fork out some cash for hypnotherapy or something.

This little story begins last week when we (Cal, the girls and I) headed up to one of my favourite places in the world, my summer camp. I started attending this camp in 1995 when I was 14 years old where I was a volleyball camper for four years. Following that, I spent four full summers on staff, but that just wasn't quite enough for me. I started teaching the one-week Leadership camp back in 2000 (with a couple other fabulous individuals) and really have never looked back. Now, just weeks from my 31st birthday, I'm happy that I still get to spend one week each year at my favourite summer spot. Even better? I get to take my husband and our two little ladies so they can experience how much this place means to me.

This was Lady M's second time to camp; she was last there in 2011 because we skipped last summer seeing as Lady A was only about 12 weeks old at the time. Lady M didn't remember much about camp, but she settled right into camp life within moments of stepping foot on the property and breathing in the beautifully clean northern Ontario air. Lady A was also in her element, happily toddling all over the place in her little pink crocs for the next six days.

I love absolutely everything about my camp, except the potential for having mice nearby. But as I mentioned, this is a new phobia that I developed a few short years ago. Let me explain:

In the summer of 2009 we headed to Florida to celebrate my Aunt's birthday; a big, fabulous family reunion. Cal, Lady M and I landed in Orlando and were met by my parents who had already arrived in town a day or two before. While Cal and my Pops waited for the luggage, my Mum entertained Lady M and I ran to the bathroom. I promptly RAN out of the bathroom when a giant sewer rat walked into my stall and brushed past my feet. Please note, I really hadn't had much issue with rodents to that point. In fact, I can recall having a mouse run across my stomach one night when I was sleeping at camp (back when I worked there full-time) and that barely phased me. The sewer rat at my bare toes, shielded only by a pair of flip flops? That creeped me out BIG TIME.

Fast forward to camp life now, and I'm terrified of having mice in my cabin. But, when we arrived last week I saw that our cabin had nice new flooring, improved windows and several other enhancements from the last time I was there. Relieved, I knew I would sleep well.

However, just one night later, I was dozing on the couch (I didn't say I was roughing it) when Cal woke me up to say "what's that sound?" After exploring a little, I suddenly saw a little rodent run from our bathroom toward the front door. As I cowered and trembled on the couch, I told Cal that it might be a chipmunk or a mouse. Either way, ick. I was shaking...Cal was mouse-hunting. He flung open the front door, and a few minutes later the mouse stopped making noise, so we went to bed assuming that our little visitor had taken leave.

An hour or so later, I jolted awake when the sound returned, and Cal jumped out of bed with one of our trusty flashlights. I decided to run to the coaches lounge (our evening hangout) and grab my friend and co-teacher Rene, who I had seen firsthand look after a cabin mouse in the past. I figured he would be a bigger help to Cal than I, who was shaking like a leaf, alternately wanting to cry and scream. I ran to the lounge, and bumped into another coach I know who told me Rene had gone back to his cabin for the night, but suggested that since she had a couple beers in her, she would be brave enough to come join the mousehunt. Awesome - I had reinforcements! She and Cal found the hole, patched it up, covered it with the fridge, and I semi-relaxed and fell back to sleep. I awoke in the morning feeling like I had just completed a killer ab workout, apparently having trembled and clenched my body all night long, but at least we were mouse-free.

The next night, I was playing in a badminton tournament with the other coaches, and returned later in the night when Cal immediately told me that the mouse had returned, but he had found another hole, patched it up and gotten the mouse out. He had discovered that mice don't like bounce sheets, so he devised a clever solution to stuff powder-scented dirty diaper bags into the mouse hole (in the absence of bounce sheets, of course!). I gently suggested that he probably should have just lied and told me that the mouse had never returned, then climbed into bed once again shaking, and somewhat wishing that Saturday would arrive quickly so I could return home to my own, mouse-free house.

Just to ease my rodent worries a little more, the next day we took a trip into town and stopped into the local Canadian Tire where Cal picked up spray insulation. He very kindly filled in absolutely every hole he could possibly find, inside and outside the cabin, to really keep our visitor out. Well, it must have worked because between Thursday and Saturday, the mouse never returned. Phewf.

So, I don't think that my fear of mice/rats has eased at all, but I do feel a little pride in the fact that I managed to make it through the week sleeping in the same cabin, and not going to my friend Trish's cabin and climbing into bed with she and her husband (though I let her know not to be alarmed if I did at some point!). Hopefully if we return to the same cabin again next year Cal's handyman skills will have all held up, but I guess we'll wait and see.

It's all worth it though to get to spend a week at camp with my family.

the million dollar dress

I've been meaning to share this particular story on my blog for several weeks now, but haven't made it to the computer very much. I currently have a small list of things I want to remember to write about, so let's start here...

At the end of May, Cal was given the opportunity to go on an awesome trip to Germany courtesy of one of the suppliers he works with in his professional life. Of course my love for Europe made me terribly jealous of his European adventure, while simultaneously being super excited and happy for him. It was a quick trip, only five days in length, so he and the other people he was traveling with really made the best of their time - rarely sleeping, and consuming as much German beer and liquor as they possibly could. I mean, how else do you experience Germany in less than a week, right?

Not altogether surprising, shopping wasn't high on their agenda over those few days. However, his hotel was conveniently located next to a children's shop, so he stopped in there on his last morning, before flying back to Toronto.

Arriving later in the evening on a Saturday, I left little Lady A with my mum to put her to bed, while I took a very excited Lady M to the airport to pick up her Daddy. After arriving home safely and on time, we returned to my parents house to pick up a happily sleeping Lady A. My mum and I naturally wanted to see the German purchases, so opened up the bag to see what Cal had chosen for the girls. In the bag was a gorgeous pink gingham dress for Lady M, and a cute Diesel top and leggings for Lady A. Great choices! However, when I pulled the bill out of the bag, I noticed he had paid 85 Euros for the three items of clothes - approximately $105 Canadian. Yowza. The majority of that bill was for the dress.

But, it's not every day you get to add a little German flare to your wardrobe, so we laughed it off and headed home.

The next day, Cal happened upon the credit card receipt for the same purchase, and to his surprise it read 185 Euros...yes, a full hundred Euros more. Uh oh. It seemed the nice lady in the children's clothing store had incorrectly input the amount and severely overcharged him for the already expensive children's clothing. He immediately called Visa who said that once the charge posted (it had only been about 24-36 hours since the purchase at this point) they could correct it.

In the meantime, I asked my Dad to check the bag we had thrown out at their house the night before for the actual receipt. He nicely dug it out for us, scanned it and sent it over. I received it to my email, as did Cal. As soon as I opened it, it was clear:

My darling husband had not spent 85 Euros on the clothing purchase; he had spent 185 Euros (approximately $230 Canadian). My sweet Lady M essentially received her prom dress, and Lady A received the most pricey leggings and t-shirt that she will own any time soon!! Cal's comment? "In my defense, I think I was still drunk when I bought them!". 

Oh well. The girls got some lovely clothes, Cal had an incredible trip that he will always remember, and we have a story that will allow us to look back at and laugh. And Lady M looked beautiful in her prom dress when she wore it to her preschool graduation a couple of weeks ago. 

mothers day in pictures

I had a wonderful Mother's Day weekend; it was low-key and relaxed. We had nothing major planned, just time with my little family of four (and the dog). After being back to work for three weeks now, I'm reminded how special the weekends are, and how I savour every moment with my little ladies.

On Saturday morning, I decided to have a little 'mummy & me' time with Lady M. She and I have made a tradition out of going to the garden centre, choosing the flowers, and planting the front garden at our house. Its not a large garden; just the right size for a three year old and I to work on. (Truth be told, I only like maintaining a small garden, as I am no green thumb, as you can read here!)

So off we set for the garden centre. We decided to try a new one this year that we hadn't been to before. Imagine Lady M's excitement when she stumbled upon this water feature when we were there...

She was so happy to stare at the beautiful fish pond, but eventually we made our way back to the flowers and chose this years winning blooms. After one more visit to the pond, we paid and were on our way home to tend to our little garden. First things first, we pulled all the weeds and prepped the space...

With her trusty little watering can, and specially designed kids gardening tools, she's a fabulous helper! Soon enough, our garden looked like this:

Is she a green thumb, or what?! (FYI: Just the flowers are ours. The overgrown plants belong to the neighbour). We also planted flowers all around our tree in the front yard, and everything looked great. My sweet little helper was awesome, and would be out there constantly watering her lovely plants if she could!

That afternoon, I got some time with just Lady A, as we took a little trip to the grocery store. Once home, she was my trusty little sidekick as I slaved away in the kitchen...

Ok, so she pretty much played with Tupperware while I worked, but she was happy to be at my feet, and I am always happy to have her right there with me.

On Sunday, Mother's Day, I got to sleep in (all the way to 7am!), and awoke to Lady M running up to me with a lovely handmade card, and handpainted picture frame with a picture of the girls in it. Is there anything sweeter than homemade crafts from your kids? I don't think so. (Apparently my parents don't think so either - my Dad still has a giant paper tie hanging in his closet that my brother made for him as a kid. My brother is now 33). I plan to have my kids crafts around for that long too...

To make my morning even sweeter, Cal made me a cup of tea in my very favourite mug as soon as I woke up...

Lady M chose this mug for my 30th birthday last year...its she and I on the front, and she tells me the little one in the second picture is Lady A. Makes me smile every time I drink from it.

So, all in all, a great mother's day weekend, and I got to see my mum too. :)

birthday girl

My littlest pumpkin is one. Seriously, how is that possible? I remember the first year of Lady M’s life going by in a blink, and now Lady A’s has too. I’m the mum of a 3 ½ year old, and a 1 year old. Wow.

I suppose I could have lamented on the fact that the time passed by so quickly, but instead we decided to party! We had a large party for Lady M when she turned one, and decided to do the same for little Lady A. We struggled over where we should have it, trying to ensure we had something for both kids and grown-ups to enjoy, and ended up settling on renting a room at our local rec centre.

We set up a baby area, kids colouring station, game table, food and sweets tables, and it seemed to do the trick. I tried to harness my inner Martha Stewart (sans fraud), and decided to get a little crafty. A friend from work lent me her cake pop maker, and I spent about 4 hours making about six dozen of these fussy, yet trendy, little things, decorating them with a variety of sprinkles and brightly coloured nonpareils. Along with some homemade tissue paper decorations, pictures of the birthday girl, and anything else that was themed in hot pink and lime green, we brought a little beige rec room to life. 

But, truth be told, it wasn’t the decorations that brought it to life; it was all the kids. So many sweet little faces around the room, playing, chatting, eating, and smiling. I commented to Cal that there were a lot more kids to invite this time than there were back when Lady M turned one. Lots of friends have had children since then, and seeing them altogether was a blast.

Lady A turned on her charm, eating like a champ, smiling, giggling, and picking up her paper plate to lick the icing off it once she had finished her piece of cake. Priceless.

Lady M was more than happy to jump right in, and assist with the present opening, and of course, was willing to test them all out when we returned home. Such a good big sister she is!

The likelihood of Lady A remembering her special day is quite slim, but I know I’ll remember the bright little faces around the room, and the feeling of happiness that came along with it.

week one

It’s incredible to me how 55 weeks can pass by in a blink. Even when you’re in the new baby haze, sleeping minimally, lacking your usual capacities, and trying to manage everything that is happening at once, the time flies by. Just when you think you’ll never sleep again, never sit down to eat a proper meal, or wear a shirt unadorned with spit-up, the time comes. You’re rested, can eat like a human, and are wearing a clean shirt.

I know I’m fortunate to live in a place where I can spend every minute of my baby’s first year with her. When you add a couple weeks of vacation to the end, you can even extend that little luxury, which is exactly what I did. But, two weeks ago, my year-long maternity leave came to an end, and it was time to return to professional life. 

I hadn’t remained completely disconnected from working, or thinking beyond diapers and naptime though. I went back to school when Lady A was about 9 weeks old to continue plugging away at my Master’s degree, and then in January (when she was 8 months old), I started teaching one College night class per week. These two adventures kept my mind sharp (well, sharp-ish), and allowed me to have much needed adult conversation and interaction that I think many mums lack when they’re off on mat leave. Having to leave them a couple times a week, made all the time I spent with my girls just a little sweeter.

When it was time to go back to work, I felt myself growing increasingly anxious. Though I know I felt the anxiety when I returned to work when Lady M turned one, I think it all felt a little different this time around, because I believe Lady A will be our last little munchkin. Last time I knew that I planned to have another child, and that another mat leave would be on the horizon, but following baby #2, the story is a little different. However, it helped to know they were headed to a wonderfully loving home daycare, and that I was headed back to a familiar place.

To really jump further back into the working world, the spring semester at the College started on the same day that I went back to work. That meant I worked from 8:30am until 9:30pm, teaching after I’d completed my first regular work day in a year. Leaving so early for work in the morning, neither of the girls was awake, and by the time I got home that night they were both slumbering happily.

Me? I just wanted to pull them out of bed for cuddles, but I knew better.

The next morning Lady A woke up before I left for work, but Lady M didn’t. That means I went from Sunday night until Tuesday after work without really seeing her. Of course I crept into her room to give her a kiss goodnight, but that’s not like spending the day with her, listening to her stories, and sharing little moments as we go through the day. It was a bit of a reality check, but we managed. I was beyond excited to get home Tuesday night and see my sweet girls.

Unfortunately, the traffic pattern of the Greater Toronto Area had different plans for me that night, as I sat on the QEW in ridiculous traffic that made we want to scream with road rage, burst into tears, or both. Arriving home after 6pm didn’t work for me, so the next day I took the toll highway, deciding the bill was well worth it, and was home just after 5pm. That was better. I felt like I might actually have the opportunity to see my girls a little more each night.

By the end of week one, we were all exhausted from our new routine and I had tried four different rush-hour routes, but it sure made the weekend so much more enjoyable. I savoured every moment of my 55 weeks off, and it makes me appreciate, even more, the time I get to spend with them now that ‘real life’ has reared its head.

So, week one has come and gone, and we made it. We’re all trying to create our new normal, and so far, it all seems to be going pretty well..

tiny tumbler

This winter, Lady M took a little gymnastics class at our local community centre. My husband and I thought it was something she would enjoy, and we were definitely right. However, it came with a little bit of apprehension on our part. You see, it was the first time that she would be taking a class without one of us, everything to this point had been a 'parent & tot' set-up, but this time the rule was clear: 'no parents allowed'. Though she goes off to preschool on her own, and we know she's completely ok on her own there, its still difficult to see signs of your little baby growing up.

However, as soon as she familiarized herself with the trampoline and balance beam, she was enamoured. The smile on her face put us at ease, and we knew she was just fine.

At weeks five and nine of the class, parents were invited to sit in and watch. Week five quickly rolled around, and we were excited to see our little girl in action. However, like many other children in class, she was all over the place, struggling to listen to the teachers, more interested in the fact that their parents and siblings were in the gym. On top of that, my parents had been by earlier in the day and had brought her a pair of light up shoes. She was more interested in making her shoes light up than paying attention to her class! It was pretty entertaining, and we certainly spent a lot of the 45-minute class laughing.

By week nine - the final week - our little Lady M was once again very excited to have us in the room, and literally just wanted to run laps around the gym, rather than fall into line with the other kids. I felt a bit embarrassed by the fact that my child was the one being reckless, and not listening, but it helped us come to a realization. Knowing she has no issue sitting still and focusing at home or at school, it was  apparent that she needed a more active extracurricular activity - not one where the kids had to spend much of the time sitting, waiting to take their turn on the equipment. After a quick discussion, her summer plans were clear: swimming and soccer.

Swimming, as far as I'm concerned, is essential. At three, she is now old enough to take lessons on her own, so will be starting that class rather soon. We also wanted something that would allow her to run and run and run some more, so soccer seemed to be the obvious choice for the summer, and there's a league in our city that starts kids at three, so there we have it. She can run up and down the field all she wants, and I think she'll have a great time doing it.

Maybe we have a future soccer star on our hands. Maybe she'll want to return to gymnastics. Maybe she's on her way to working every summer as a lifeguard, or being an Olympic swimmer. Whatever it may be, as long as she's having fun, she'll be doing the right thing.

birth order

Have you ever considered where you fall in line with your siblings, and how that affects every aspect of your life? The role of the middle child seems to be the sibling status most frequently studied, often considered the most difficult sibling place to occupy. In my house, everything comes in two's...no middle children here.

I have an older brother, three years my senior, making me the youngest child. My husband is one of two, his brother is 5 years younger, so clearly, he's an eldest child. Now, continuing the tradition of siblings coming in two's, we have our two little ladies as part of our family, Lady M is the oldest by 2 1/2 years...Lady A the little sister.

Last semester I took a class called "Socially & Culturally Situated Learning", and as part of writing our educational biographies we talked a fair bit about birth order and how that has affected where we are today, professionally and personally. I have always enjoyed being a little sister, and being one of two siblings. From time to time the thought of having several more siblings crossed my mind as being desirable, but I've always been happy having just the two of us. My brother on the other hand has likely given more consideration to having only child status more times that I know.

Now that we have the lives of two children to manage, I'm amazed by the frequency with which I think about birth order. I'm also amazed at how my second child status affects my parenting, quite unintentionally. As soon as Lady M tries to stop Lady A from doing something - not wanting to share with her, trying to gently push her out of the way, whatever it may be - I come quickly to the little one's defense. Whether that is simply because she's smaller, more needy, or because I connect to being the youngest, I really don't know. However, on the flip side, my husband, forever bonded to his older child status, can understand the plight of big sister Lady M in a way I can't. Don't get me wrong, our munchkins are treated as equally as possible, but there is an obvious connection to our corresponding sibling statuses.

Frank Sulloway, a researcher who studies birth order says "the personalities of siblings vary because they adopt different strategies in the universal quest for parental favor". Apparently those strategies are also used when it comes to parenting, whether intentionally or not!