Gardening Enthusiast

Things are perkin' up around here.  It all started with a smokin' deal on a pair of bright red rainboots.  They totally motivate the gardener that lives within me.  I live in a great neighbourhood for gardening.  I am surrounded by enthusiasts.  They even offer me advice - both solicited and otherwise.  Last summer a certain retired neighbour kept coming over to comment on how well everything was growing.  I just beamed and thanked her kindly for her compliments.  Then one day she finally got up the nerve and came over and pointed at one of the largest plants in the garden and bluntly said, "I'm pretty sure that one is a weed!"...I obliged her and promptly pulled the offender.  She looked like a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders and she practically skipped back across the street to sit on her porch.  If only it was always so easy to make your neighbours happy!

Roots and wings

There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings. -  Hodding Carter

I can already sense R's strength of spirit.  She is only four years old but she is tenacious...and smart.  Really smart.  Sometimes RKA and I just look at each other and wonder how she comes up with half of the things she says.  She also has wisdom beyond her years.  She already empathizes...and sacrifices.  She has a really good heart.  We were out for dinner the other night and both kids ordered chocolate milk.  B downed his really fast and then asked for more.  I told him no because he had to save room for his supper.  R lifted her half-full cup and said, "Mommy is it okay if I give B some of mine?  I don't want him to feel bad".  That is what kind of person she is at four years old.  She amazes me every day with what a lovely little person she is becoming.  I know that one day she will need to spread her wings but I am just happy that today is not that day.  Today she is a kind-hearted little soul tucked into her ballerina sheets with her arms wrapped around her tattered stuffed lion, "Twinkle".

Spring Break

"Spring break" - those two little words fits so nicely together - almost as good as "summer holidays". Preschool was on hiatus this week, as was dance, so that meant extra free time for us to adventure.

We kicked off the season with a "Spring Fling" and invited a bunch of friends to our place for a potluck lunch. All the kiddies brought their bikes and it was so cute to see a swarm of ten kids racing up and down the cul-de-sac. R decided to wear her fairy wings on her bike as she flew up and down the street. B chose his wiggle bike and somehow his little legs were able to keep up pretty good with the crowd!


We were greeted by the sun again the next day so we decided to venture out to our favourite nearby lake. We found ourselves alone on the beach with gusty winds coming off the shore so we found a more sheltered area to play in.



R&B now have little conversations all day long. I love eavesdropping on them...Driving out to the lake B said, "When we get there will you play with me R?" and she replied, "Of course, Buddy!"

Funny how just one of these moments makes up for a million of the, "She's looking at me!/He's pulling my hair!" fiascos.




R insisted on carrying that ball and B insisted on carrying that banana. He did not want to eat it he only wanted to carry it, soooo let's just say that when we got home we made banana bread. That poor pulped banana never stood a chance!

Banana bread is a staple around here. R brings it to preschool most days...the one day that she didn't bring it apparently the 3 year olds incited a riot. Our recipe of choice is from my friend who is an excellent baker. I'm sure she won't mind if I share it here:
Banana Bread
Ingredients:
3 bananas
1 egg
1 cup sugar
1.5 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
4 tsp melted butter

Method:
1. Preheat oven to 350
2. Mash bananas, stir in sugar and egg
3. Add dry ingredients
4. Lastly, add butter
5. Bake, in greased loaf pan for one hour


Spring has started off on the right foot and brought the sunshine and we tried to soak up every moment we could. We rode bikes, visited lakes, and even chucked rocks in the ocean!

Spring + Break = smiles!

Lucky

Our little leprechauns were lucky today...

A pinch of green...

A rainbow...

And a pot of gold...

We did St. Patrick's day up right! Yesterday it was shamrock shakes. Today it was green jello...and gold coins, so many gold coins! Of course, there was also green milk.

The weirdest part of the day though had to be this....

The leprechauns peed in our toilets when they were here hiding the gold! B was unshaken but R was utterly disgusted! "They didn't flush! That means that they probably didn't wash their hands either!" That didn't seem to stop her from downing her pure chocolate gold coins!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Boredom busters...

...baking banana bread, celebrating little holidays (like Mardi Gras), playing dress-up, playdough on the front porch, impromptu bands...

Birth through the ages

My maternal grandmother was "an afterthought". She was the eighth child born in the back bedroom on her family's farm. Her birth certificate listed her official birthplace as RR#19 but it was in a small prairie house somewhere near Yorkton. I imagine it as one of those birthing scenes in cowboy movies where you just hear the audio behind a closed wooden door and then a plump baby is shown swaddled in the arms of a fresh-faced mother who would later that day be milking cows and sweeping out stalls. I highly doubt that was the actual case but it makes for a good story.

That little "afterthought" went on to bear two children in her thirties. Her petite frame "belly" birthed two babies in the 1950's. My own mother was the second of the two and she was a preemie. My tiny grandma had a tiny baby through a big operation - a c-section was no joke back in the '50's. She was a true "housewife" and kept her house tickety boo at all times. She ironed bedsheets and set the table for breakfast at night before she went to sleep.

In the 1970's my mom had her own two children at a young age. I was the second, born when she was just twenty. Pregnancy had been easy and birth was quick (she barely made it to the hospital) and uncomplicated. Motherhood was very natural for her...and now "grandmahood" seems to come just as easily. She entered the workforce after being home with us for ten years. I remember the night when Mom and Dad brought home take-out for dinner and gave us a talk about becoming more responsible around the house because Mom wasn't going to be home to pick up after us anymore.

My own daughter was born in a hospital with my husband and my doula's support, as well as the labour nurses. The doctor was just the on call "baby-catcher" and that is really all that he did (in my estimation). My first child's birth was textbook but it still wasn't easy. With each pain I was wondering - is this as bad as it gets or has it only just begun? Has the pain peaked or will it get much, much worse? Actually, the naivete of a first time mother was a glorious blessing. A luxury, really. I didn't know what I was in for. I had no choice but to labour through the pain and the wonder. It was such a unique type of pain. Pain where you know that something good is about to happen. It is pain that may hurt but it is productive because with each contraction you are a step closer to holding your baby.

And then the moment comes...and whether you are in a back bedroom on the prairies or in an urban hospital that moment is universal in its life-changing impact. The one where you reach out and hold your baby for the first time. Relief. Pride. Astonishment. I was stunned in that moment when I first saw my firstborn. The moment was just too big. I couldn't comprehend the fact that this little being was mine to hold and to grow. I've spent the last four years trying to figure out the best way to do exactly that.

Life for me is so different than life for my great grandmother would have been. As a woman, a wife, and a mother I have so much choice. Autonomy. Opportunity. Voice. But I still want more and I have nothing but hope for the next generation.
Happy 100th International Women's Day!


"A Mother who radiates self-love and self-acceptance actually vaccinates her daughter against low self-esteem. "
— Naomi Wolf

Breakfast

I look forward to waking up tomorrow morning to the sounds of my two year old shouting, "Mommy, I'm awake!" and then if he gets no response starting a persistent chant of "Mom, Mom, Mom" and then escalating to using my first name to get my attention and rise me out of my bed. It is hard to ignore his cute little voice and around 7:30 I motivate myself to go and get him. Starting your day by being greeted by a little squirt with a huge smile is really quite pleasant. He wakes up rarin' to go and I try to keep him quiet so that his older sister can sleep a bit longer. She likes her sleep but is usually up by eight o'clock.

I give him a "lift" down the stairs and we cuddle on the couch for a few minutes while we get accustomed to being awake. "I'm hungry" is a common mantra for B so I stumble to the kitchen to begin our breakfast ritual. Turn on the kettle. Pop in the toast. Grab two yogurts and two spoons. Spread PBJ and then pour my own cereal and milk and try to finish it before it gets soggy. Fix my tea and try to drink it before it gets cold. Conversation usually includes what our dreams were about and if the kids can't remember their dreams then they invariably make something up about monsters - very dramatic. I downplay the horror of their nightmares and try to counterbalance their drama with some uplifting tales of hope and conquer. Or sometimes we just sit in silence amidst the crunching sounds.

We each have our spots at the island where we eat breakfast. It's very strategic. B is at the far end (due to birth order as R and I already had our spots before he arrived). Then there is a chair in between them and R is closest to me. I am on the end with no neighbours. I like it that way because it keeps the jam off of my shoulders.

Some breakfasts are peaceful. Everyone blissfully eats and talks about our plans for the day. Other mornings are a gong show...no one staying in their seats. Or using the middle seat as a bridge to cross into the other sibling's area. Screaming ensues (usually them but on occasion also me). On these mornings I move that little bridge so that each child is an island on their own seat. Often that does not stop B and he tries to "swim" across the counter to get to his sister. These are the high octane mornings. I need two teas on these mornings and then we hit up TH on our way as well!

I know that one day these hour long breakfasts will be a thing of the past. The kids will be sleeping in and then popping in their own waffles. We will all be rushing in different directions. For now, I enjoy the simplicity of our morning routine.

Signs of Spring!

I felt the sun on my face today. Not the heat but the light. It was so bright that I was squinting and wishing that my sunglasses weren't lost and my backup pair weren't broken. But it actually felt so good to squint.

B said, "It's so shiny, Mommy!" It feels like we are finally finished hibernating for the winter. But we are still getting some naps out of this little angel...

We made it to the park a few times this week - without down jackets and toques but with huge smiles...



And my highlight of the week was our ballerina's smile as she showed us her moves in dance class...

The turning of the seasons brings excitement - especially Spring. It arrives with such tangible evidence as bulbs start sprouting and neighbours start puttering...

Bring on the spring!

On his way!

I can remember my Grandma telling me about how she sent her first two little ones to Sunday school every Sunday...this was a bit surprising because in those days Grandma was not an avid church-goer...in fact when I questioned her it turns out that she dropped them off at the church for Sunday school and then went for coffee! (Later in life she did become very faithful).

This little story makes me laugh... I love my children endlessly but I can so relate to the need for even just an hour to yourself!

Soooo...B started preschool today. And if we are being completely honest then he may be a tad young for it. At twenty-seven months he is four months younger than R was when she started. He is also just a completely different type of kid. He thrives on action and despite our fairly busy social calendar with play-dates and drop in programs I just can't keep up with him. So when the preschool teacher told me about an opening in R's class I jumped at the chance and we took it. It is a great opportunity for him to learn how to get along with kids, and it is a great opportunity for me to have a bit of time.

B had been asking to go to preschool ever since we attended R's Christmas party there and she is thrilled that he is joining her. They were both super excited and when I went to drop them off he got out of the car and made a bee-line for the classroom door without hesitation. I waved goodbye to both of them and neither really seemed to notice that I was leaving. Evidently, he feels comfortable there.

I spent my time having a shower and tidying up the house. Nothing exciting but it was very relaxing. I wanted to stick close to home just in case I got a call from the preschool. No need to worry though and when I went to pick them up both my little ones were fine. The teacher did comment that the day was a lot more "active" than it usually is and reiterated that this month is a trial as B is still "learning".

Let's hope that he is a fast learner 'cause mama could get used to two afternoons a week to herself!