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!

the singing palaeontologist & the dancing surgeon

Do you ever think about what your kids are going to be when they grow up? Me too.

Naturally, the girls will change their mind about what they want to 'be' several times over in their lifetime, but I think its fun to speculate which profession they might choose based on who they are now.

If I had to choose Lady M's career right now, my guess would be a singing palaeontologist. Not the dull kind, a la Ross on Friends, but a lively little lady, digging up dinosaur bones, sharing her discoveries with people around the world, and all the while singing a cute little song about what she is doing. She is completely fascinated by dinosaurs right now...she has five different dinos that she carries around with her, a great dinosaur craft book, and cannot get enough of the PBS show Dinosaur Train. Her vocabulary is growing tenfold each time she watches the show, and now likes to reference the Cretaceous period, dinosaur plates and horns, and carnivores in a regular conversation. The other day, she even saw a picture of a frog, and said "look mum, a frog! I mean, a palaeobatrachus", and the word rolled off her tongue. Sometimes I really wonder if she's only three...

Lady A on the other hand, is perhaps a little more difficult to predict a future career for at less than 9 months old, but my guess is that she'll do something with her hands. As I mentioned, in a previous post, she is constantly clawing at me, and keeping very busy with her hands, exploring everything she sees. Not uncommon for a baby, of course, but my thought for now is that perhaps she'll follow in her great-grandfather's footsteps and become a surgeon. However, Lady A also has quite the dancing gene and loves to 'boogie' on command...or any other time the feeling strikes. So, naturally, I think she'll add a little  creative flair to the operating room, and find a way to dance through each procedure she completes. 

Realistically, I have no idea what the girls will be when they hit adulthood. I just hope they'll happy with whatever they choose. If you ask Lady M what she's going to be when she grows up, she responds with "I'm going to be a grown up!". So for now I'll speculate, and just let them enjoying being little. 

tiger claws & road trips

My little Lady A is snuggly, sweet and happiest when she's curled up in my arms. However, though I love the snuggles, lately, my darling little girl has decided to slowly claw my skin off. Snuggled up, she takes her tiny little baby nails (aka. her claws), and digs them into my arm, chest, neck; wherever she can reach, really. She resists having her nails cut, but they seem to grow at super-speed, leading me to believe she may have some sort of super power.

Of course, if I say 'no' to her scratching me, as if to say: "don't do that tiny little tiger baby", she looks up at me with her beautiful, big brown eyes, and flashes her wide, tooth-free smile, as if to say "I love you too, mummy". So, she doesn't quite understand what 'no' means, and I continue to be clawed at.

I was thinking about this tonight, and realized that perhaps this is the universe's way of getting back at me. And, by 'universe', I think I mean that my older brother, Greg, has placed some sort of voodoo curse on me, and is having his curse carried out by my youngest daughter.

You see, as children, we spent many, many hours in the car driving back and forth to visit our family in Florida. My brother and I would argue and fight in the backseat like any normal siblings would, and as we got older, our shenanigans became less and less acceptable to our parents. So, we found more 'silent' ways of fighting, so as not to alert mum and dad to our spat. Clever, weren't we? Ok, I think we were just extremely bored, and perhaps tired of playing Game Boy.

On one particular trip, I discovered the power of my nails, and quietly scratched at Greg's arms until he had small cuts all over them. Sounds kind of vicious, right? Well, I don't really remember what he did to me, but I'm sure I had bruises on my arms, whatever it was!

So even now, nearly 20 years later, my darling brother has some small scars remaining on his arm, so you can see how I think he's somehow secretly trained my baby to get back at me, day after day, night after night...

Greg...I'm on to you. And maybe someday Lady A will put her little tiger claws away, stop fighting me when I want to trim her nails, and start scratching my brother instead of me!

fearing the flush

I'm not a big fan of public washrooms; just the thought of all the germs lurking in there is enough to make anyone squirm. However, my sweet little Lady M has developed a fear of these restrooms not because of the germs, but because of the flush. Its been an ongoing saga for a few months now, and one that doesn't seem to be getting any better quite yet. Let me backtrack a little.

A few months ago, Cal had to go into work one day a little unexpectedly. I was getting ready to go to a wedding shower, so to help me out he took Lady M with him to work, while I got ready and looked after Lady A. Cal was working at a new hotel that day, and while there, Lady M had to use the washroom. But, in the new-age world of germ-avoidance, and touch-free everything, these new washrooms were equipped with automatic flushing toilets. Though she really had to go, the sudden, unexpected flush while she was trying to go to the washroom startled the heck out of her, and she jumped off. She returned to the washroom three times (she really had to go!), only to be faced with the same flushing fate with each visit. And thus, the fear of the public washroom began.

A few weeks later, we were heading up to northern Ontario to visit some family for Thanksgiving. On the way we stopped at a rest station to grab a bite to eat, and use the washroom. Lady M quickly noticed the automatic flush, and said she wouldn't go. As she slowly backed away from the toilet in the family washroom, she found herself standing immediately underneath an automatic hand dryer. Not just your average dryer, nope, an Xcelerator one. The extremely loud noise, coupled with the shock of being blown by the strong air, scared my poor little girl so much that she refused to go to the washroom (again), and actually held it all the way up north (a 6-hour journey, when all was said and done). We went to Canadian Tire and bought a new potty seat for her, and with a little coaxing, she finally gave in to using the washroom at the house for the rest of our stay.

Later that week, we were heading to the airport to pick my mum and dad up after a trip they had been on. Once again, my little sweetie had to use the restroom in public, but by this point she was so fearful of the toilet that she got into the family restroom and SCREAMED. I was certain that by the time we got out of the washroom, authorities would be waiting to see who was stealing children at the airport, naturally concerned by the blood-curdling screams coming from beyond the door. This time took another three visits to the washroom before she finally went, and thankfully nobody was waiting to pull me into a scary interrogation room when we came out.

Then yesterday we were out at a store, rather close to our house, but she suddenly told me she REALLY had to go. So, into the public washroom we went, only to be met with the now usual cries and screams, though I assured her this one didn't have an automatic flush. Another woman came into the stall next door, so I explained to Lady M that the toilet beside her would flush, and not to be afraid. I then heard the nice woman kindly say "I can come back and flush in a few minutes if you'd like, she's breaking my heart"! Though very kind, I said not to worry, and Lady M dealt with the flush next door without much concern.

Having not gone to the washroom, we exited the stall and ended up chatting with the nice lady 'next door'. She told me that when her son was little he refused to go in public too, so they actually carried a full potty for him everywhere they went until he was four years old! If he had to go, they'd head out to the car, pull out the potty and deal with it. I must say, it was nice to hear that someone else had struggled with this too. She also told me that her son is now 26, and they still make fun of him for having to take that potty everywhere!

So, the saga continues, without any resolution as of yet. Hopefully one day soon my little Lady M will settle into using a public washroom. But for now, we'll just carry a little travel potty seat with us, and try to get her used to going in public when necessary! Hopefully before long, she'll stop fearing the flush.

bells on pop-tails ring...

Hard to believe the Christmas season has already come and gone. Even though with a three-year-old in the house, the celebration started earlier than ever (November), it still managed to flash by in a moment. Last year Lady M got quite in to Christmas, or so I thought. Because it was nothing like the excitement she felt this year as we counted down the days to the arrival of S. Claus. She talked about Christmas constantly, learned several carols verbatim, and told us every day of a new toy she hoped Santa would bring.

We had a friendly little 'elf on the shelf' visit our home this year, fondly named "Bubby" on the first morning he arrived. Lady M loved looking for him every morning when she awoke, and would pop by his daily location to chat with him here and there. On top of that, she received a special video message from Santa Claus' PNP, which she watched no fewer than ten times, quite proud that she was on Santa's 'nice list'. She also went to her first Santa Claus parade this year in our hometown, and got to see Lady A and I in the parade. Of course, she was most excited to see the big guy in his sleigh at the end of the parade!

This was the first year I couldn't really take Lady M Christmas shopping with me, as she's not the greatest at keeping a secret. For instance, we would pick something up for Cal and she would quickly say "Daddy, we got you a new coat!". So much for surprises! But, armed with this knowledge, I became well-acquainted with the glorious world of online shopping. Thanks to Toys R Us, Best Buy and Old Navy's respective online shopping systems, Christmas was easily completed, and delivered right to my door!

Lady A was blissfully oblivious to what was happening throughout the season, but she happily crawled around, climbed on her new presents, and tried to eat lots of colourful wrapping paper and bows. Just about right for a little one who is approaching the 8-month mark! Lady M gladly "helped" her sister open all of her presents, even going the extra mile, testing them all out for Lady A. If that's not sisterly love, I don't know what is!

But my favourite part of this Christmas, by far, was Lady M's love of Christmas carols. Between the ones we sang at home, the CD of kids carols we had in the car, and the songs she learned at preschool, her musical repertoire grew tenfold this year, and she has been singing non-stop for weeks.

Her favourite two songs were Rudolph and Jingle Bells, even if she thought the bells on 'pop-tails' were ringing! She then took her beautiful singing skills to the stage with all of her preschool friends when she took part in her first Christmas recital. A proud moment for any parent, naturally. She was adorable, decked out in her pretty party dress, belting out tunes alongside her adorable little classmates. What's not to love?

As the youngest in my family, I always heard people say that Christmas is better with kids. I didn't really understand it until I became a parent, and after spending four Christmases with Lady M, and one now with Lady A, I have no doubt that Christmas will be a little more fabulous and fun with each passing year.

So, the bells on pop-tails have stopped ringing for this year, but the memories will keep me happy for the next eleven months until we get set to do it all again.

Happy New Year!