Welcome spring!

This is why I love living in northern Alberta- there may be more beautiful things on this earth than trees covered in hoarfrost against a clear blue sky, but I kind of doubt it.

Also, am I the only person who can not say "hoarfrost" without giggling like a twelve year old boy?

I am a good mother, so there!

Why parents should be licensed.

I have been sooooo sick, pretty sure it is the bubonic plague or swine flu or some really awful deadly combination of the two.


Husband says it is the sniffles but as he is not technically a licensed physician I am ignoring him and diagnosing myself.


Anyhoo, there is something going through our house and we have all had it to some degree. My eight year old daughter (who keeps reminding me she is actually almost NINE, as her birthday is right away in November...) Meara, has had it the worst and the longest. She is tired also, we had SUCH a blow up over a braid yesterday morning- I am chalking it up to us both being overtired and sick! On Monday night she had a shower and I braided her hair before bed; she stayed home sick on Tuesday and then Wednesday morning she came up for school with her braid looking like it had not been brushed in two days (because it had not!) and a flower clip on the top of her head. So I told her the flower was pretty but I needed to tidy up her braid and I pulled the elastic out. And this ruined her life as the messy, ratty, scruffy braid was the main part of her style and now it was wrecked forever (this is the font that indicates long, drawn out, whining at just the perfect pitch to curdle milk and adequate volume to be heard in neighbouring towns). Thus began the one hour agony that was my morning and let me tell you, there is not enough coffee (with or without Baileys) to fix that. Make it look like it did before; why do you always want me to have the worst day ever in my whole life; I will never have such a good hairstyle for the rest of my entire liiiiiiifffffeeeee. There was shouting and bawling and threats of heads being shaved bald and doors slammed and Meara did some stuff too... Anyway, I got her to school and after eight hours of cooling down we sat down and had a chat. I told her that part of having long hair is taking good care of it and brushing it out every single day. That if she wanted to keep her hair long she needed to stop complaining and fussing when I brushed the tangles out for her. That going to school looking like a homeless person was not acceptable. That I was sick and tired of having this talk every day and I was putting my foot down and she needed to shape up or get it CUT OFF! I also told her that I had made an appointment with a hairdresser in a fancy shop and on Friday morning we were going on a date and she could get her hair cut any way she liked AND even get a couple of blonde streaks put in for a very special treat (of course hoping that the stylist will encourage her to lose some length and maybe get some layers cut in...) and she looks at me and says "That will be so fun mom, I have ALWAYS wanted to get streaks in my hair but I can only get wash out ones and I just want the ends trimmed a tiny bit, ok?" So I said that would be ok (while hoping the stylist can convince her otherwise...) and I asked why she was being so darn stubborn about this whole hair thing- we have been battling over it off and on for over a year! So Meara looks up at me with her beautiful big eyes and says "It is kind of a secret that I did not want to tell anyone but I am growing my hair as long as I can so that I can cut it off and GIVE IT TO KIDS WHO HAVE CANCER".         

I think I should probably lose my license.

 

C.S.

In your face, Triceratops!!

Mei and I were having a snuggle the other morning; it is my favourite time of the day when the first kid up climbs into bed and we can chat quietly and uninterrupted about things- usually silly or trivial but sometimes not. The other morning, turning FIVE YEARS OLD still at the forefront of her thoughts, Mei was explaining to me how things are changing now that she is FIVE YEARS OLD; soon she will be going to kindergarten and she gets to play outside soccer this year and then after that she will turn six years old and then seven. "And then mommy, pretty soon I be THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD!! And that is really, really, really, super old. It is the biggest old EVER! And things that are that really, really, really, super old die!"

Now, I am thirty-eight and granted, it can feel pretty old sometimes, maybe even really old once in a while, especially in my swimsuit at the pool. But "the biggest old EVER", it is not. I explained to my little darling that while thirty-eight is quite a bit more than five, there are things that are much older than thirty-eight. And that even though I was THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD, I did not believe I was about to wither up and croak anytime soon, so maybe she could re-evaluate her position on that.

Pretty soon her sweet little head was nodding and her little eyes lit up and I knew that I had just done a bang up job of explaining how ones perspective can affect ones view of the passage of time. Yay me! Stellar parenting before 6:30 am- check!!

"Yeah, mama because rocks are older than THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD, right? And other stuff that is older than rocks would be older than THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD, right? And Triceratops, if he did not die in the coldness, would be older than THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD, right? So mommy, you are not the oldest EVER, because Triceratops is older than you!"

I'll take it. (even though Triceratops would probably still look better in a swimsuit...)

My uterus hurts...

My baby will be FIVE years old tomorrow; I either need to find a way to stop time (and I have watched Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure many, many times so I believe I may be close to mastering the science involved!!) or else convince the husband that it is possible to actually, physically, die from wanting another baby so badly... and as I am not technically a licensed physician, I think I need to get to work on the time travel angle...

Things are not all roses on birthday cakes here (and Mei has requested dinosaurs, not roses, anyway) Mei is THROUGHLY ticked off at me- I even got the "evil-sideways-look-of-imminent-doom" she does so very well; she has been told for the last three years that she gets to go to Kindergarten at the big kids school when she is five and she is five tomorrow so... SCHOOL TIME! Party on dude, right? But no, not right, not until fall... so for this clear betrayal I am now a "meany tattle-tale" (I think she meant "liar" but whatever) and make her "SO fruus-er-a-ted" (which I assume is similar to being frustrated?). But I think (hope) we have now cleared this up; I possibly mentioned that if she waits until fall for Kindergarten, Miss V might have candy for her... and now I have seven months to figure out how to deal with that..

Reenactment of the patented "evil-sideways-look-of-imminent-doom".

The obligatory post justifying this blog...

I believe this is the place where I am supposed to write something deep and introspective about how I hope to use my words, my craft, my gift, to educate and inspire the masses of people who will soon be hanging on my every well phrased sentence. How my writing is a catharsis, a purging of my very soul and intellect and possibly the cure for poverty and global warming as well....

I got nothing.

I hear voices.

Not really "voices", but a voice.

Now you are getting the wrong idea.

I talk to myself (well, it is more than talking to myself as I also reply) and really I have a great conversation going on inside my head most of the time. All of the time. And I do a lot of stupid stuff. I thought it would be cool to put this all on record, to get it out somewhere and see what happens. I am certain my kids future therapists will thank me and if nothing else it might make someone who is struggling feel like they have got their act together by comparison. You are so welcome!

Plus, I secretly kind of hope the whole curing poverty thing might work out for me.