Urban Suburban Mommy

Category Archives: The Struggle is Real

Let’s play “Have you ever…?” (Survival Parenting edition)

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Sometimes my parenting skills are questionable. I’m exhausted and parenting can be hard. My boys are 8 and 6 – and I wish I had half their energy.

Sometimes I’m just tired. Sometimes I’ve just worked too much, sometimes I’ve got big stress on my plate and I can’t focus on answering even one more question or make one more dinner or figure out which kid has karate and which one is going swimming today.

It’s not that I don’t love my kids to the moon and back, and I hope you won’t judge me, but sometimes mama just needs a minute or two. I call it “Survival Parenting.”

So, in the spirit of making myself feel better and hoping to find I’m not the only parent that, despite all my love, organic food and educational toys, has some sketchy parenting skills, I’m going to confess my dirty dozen.

Have you ever:

1. Gone to IKEA with no intention of shopping, dropped the kids off for the free hour of babysitting and sat down with a coffee and a magazine in the cafeteria

2. Gone to the bathroom, locked the door and just sat there, hoping the won’t hunt you down – with or without chocolate

3. Set the clocks ahead and told them it was bedtime

4. Gone to a fast food restaurant with a play place just because you wanted to space out on your phone and have your kids in a safe, contained space

5. Let them watch 6 hours of TV because you need to sleep (I checked on them a couple of times)

6. Sent them to school when they were probably sick enough to stay home

7. Had fast food or instant dinner 2 nights in a row (okay, three nights in a row), because… just because

8. Let them have dessert for breakfast

9. Told them the park/pool/play place was closed because you just couldn’t handle that place

10. Made up a horrible, inappropriate punishment to threaten them with because you need them to come here. RIGHT. NOW. and you can’t put up the fight

11. Made a second dinner because they just wouldn’t eat and it was easier to just do it than to argue

12. Looked through the laundry for some ‘not-too-dirty’ pants because you totally forgot/didn’t care/purposely didn’t do the laundry

There. There it is. My shame in 12 easy sentences. I can’t be alone – would love to hear about your most stellar parenting moments!

Daddy wars?

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There are, like, these rules. They’re important. They dictate polite conversation. At dinner parties you don’t discuss politics, salaries or religion. I think that rule was made by housewives 60 years ago to keep husbands from getting into heated discussions over bridge games and dinner parties.

Those housewives didn’t have the Internet or they’d have added in a few things to that list. Nowadays, when you’re in a mommy forum, there are three things you don’t discuss unless you’re trying to start a mommy war: Formula vs breast feeding, circumcision and vaccination. Or, if you prefer the “hip mom” lingo: Lactivism, intactivism and anti-vaxxing.

I’ve seen the mommy wars start very innocently. Someone asks a newbie question on a forum, like: “I really want my son to look like my husband, is circumcision really going to hurt?” Half the mommies will start freaking out about mutilation, the other half will start freaking out about the unsolicited advice. “She wasn’t asking if it’s mutilation, she was asking if it’s really going to hurt.”

Breast is best – unless fed is best. Vaccines don’t cause autism – but do vaccine injuries exist? Or is it a small risk to take compared to catching a totally avoidable disease? Herd immunity. Natural selection. Adjuvant. Attenuated. Big words, scientific concepts and scare tactics all rolled into a huge, opinionated argument ready to rage.

Er. Mer. Gerd.

I have read and read and read through these mommy wars (fine, I admit it, I enjoy a certain amount of drama – as long as I’m not at the centre of it) and it never ceases to amaze me that the same arguments can go round and round in every single mommy forum and every Facebook group out there. My husband and I were chatting about the measles outbreak on the weekend, convicted in our decision about vaccines, discussing that only time will tell if we’ve made the right decision, but we stand by our decision.

And then on Monday, his Facebook status came up in my feed. It was something about how there’s no use to argue with an adult who doesn’t believe in vaccinating. Something. Something. Something. Natural selection.

And I chuckled. I thought, “Oh no you didn’t.”

My husband usually posts pictures of our kids on his Facebook, or Star Wars products. Sometimes a rude joke or a funny sitcom reference. My favourite are the old music videos he digs up.

He doesn’t post controversial stuff. I think my mommyblogging is rubbing off on him or something. He always reads my posts (Hi honey!) and I do talk a lot about mommying and daddying – parenting. We’ve made all of the big decisions together and he’s very invested in all of the choices we’ve had to make for our boys, so I respect the fact that he has an opinion on this.

I never would have posted that status. But I sure was interested in seeing how it went. I don’t think he’s ever been part of a mommy war… er… daddy war… so I thought it would be interesting to see how his feed wound up throughout the day.

And there it was. The first response. And then the second. And then the third, fourth, fifth and sixth. One person posted numerous scientific studies about the negative effects of vaccines. Another person called him an idiot.

My husband jumped in to say, “Guys, there’s no reason to be rude about this.”

And then they all apologized to each other and agreed to disagree.

What the $%*#?

Tuesday’s status on the left, Monday’s status on the right. See what I mean?!?!?!?! Who does that!

 

And, as if that weren’t enough, the next day he – being the equal opportunity troublemaker he is – posted another vaccine/natural selection post. The same people showed up to the party, plus a few. Again, civility won out, though 160+ comments later and people were laughing and egging him on to post a status about whether pineapple belongs on pizza.

I will never understand.

I’ve seen mommy wars go 972 comments deep before the moderator could shut it down. I’ve seen bans and escalating insults and even seen people take arguments into real life. I’ve seen friendships end and loyalties divided over vaccines, so I’d grabbed some popcorn and settled in for some amusement on my husband’s Facebook page. But within 22 comments they’d hashed it out and banded together for a round of Kumbaya.

It never ceases to amaze me how my husband surprises me. And so daddy wars?

Not today.

 

The many voices of Mommy

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I expected a lot of physical changes when I became a mom. For the most part, I wasn’t disappointed; everything that was once stationary went south for the winter, the travel luggage under my eyes is now a matching set, and I’ve generally modified my personal style and hygiene so as not to alarm anyone.

One thing I did not anticipate was my voice changing. Not that awkward change. Nothing has descended, there’s no extra hair anywhere (save the lone wiry hairs now sprouting from my post-menopausal face). But it has adjusted in both timber and tone in order to accommodate the parenting scenario.

For example:

1. Normal Mommy: Everything is status quo; I’ve had my coffee, the kids are dressed and ready for school, everyone is fed, and the eldest child is being particularly clever and/or witty. It’s a sing-songy lilt, cheerful and vibrant. Woodland animals perch on our balcony to hear me use this voice. I use this voice 1% of the time.

2. FBI Mommy: This is fact-finding, investigative reporting mommy. It’s all business; not “loud” but definitely “assertive”. We need to get out the door. Where are your shoes? What do you want to eat for dinner? I put the emphasis on the last word because the men in my house function on brevity – we’re a bullet-point family. Use too many words and you’ll see eyes glaze over.

3. Clenched Mommy: By the time I’ve used this voice, something has gone sideways. Perhaps the eldest has refused my five thousandth request to get in the car or the thirty thousandth request to wash his hands after he pees. When I speak through clenched teeth, consider it a warning shot across the bow. The people I live with know they have roughly 30 seconds to autocorrect. During this time, other muscle groups may or may not be clenched.

4. Bellowing Mommy: I’ve had years of theatre training and voice work. As a result, I’ve developed a bellow that comes not from the diaphragm, but from the darkest recesses of my soul. The approximate volume is roughly a hybrid of foghorn and T-Rex; it breaks the sound barrier. I reserve this voice for imminent danger. We were at Centre Island one summer, and a much younger Nathan took off running towards the road – with a truck belching across his path. I let out a “STOP” – Nate stopped, as did the other 50 or so parents around us. I think the truck stopped too. And the birds. Bellowing mommy is for emergencies only.

5. Savage Mommy: I won’t bore you with this one. We all have this voice. Roughly the pitch of sonar, “savage” only occurs past the point of no control. I hate Savage Mommy, I avoid her at all costs. Most of the time, I’ll just remove myself from the situation and cry in the bathroom until it passes.

If emotional temperature can be indicated by tone of voice, I feel like I’m always running a fever. I try to stay in Normal Mommy mode as much as possible. Totally doable with two young boys, right? So how do you keep yourself even-keeled? What’s your Mommy voice?

To birthday party or not?

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Recently, for some reason, discussions about birthday parties keep coming up. Mamas that get stressed over how many kids to invite. Dads that can’t fathom sorting out food for all the dietary restrictions. Parents that feel the expense is ludicrous. The mama on my right declared that “Parties are such a waste of money!” while the mama on my left retorted “Seriously? You’d deprive your child of a birthday party? That’s selfish!”

And before the big guns could come out, I tried to diffuse the whole conversation with a nice solid “Everyone has to do what’s right for their family.” which worked.

(It always works!)

Personally, I think we’ve gotten a little out of control with expectations that are hard to fulfill. It’s happened with Weddings, it’s happened with Sweet 16s. Now it’s happening with birthday parties.

When one mom started talking budgets, she mentioned a cake for over $150. Food was hundreds of dollars because they’ve got a big family. Loot bags, branded theme paper products, an entertainer, a hall…

And then I understood why the budget was just bursting!

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think you *shouldn’t* throw a gala affair for the little one’s first birthday. Go ahead and find the perfect venue for the your kid’s 7th birthday. Spend what you want.

But realize you don’t have to.

Sometimes expectations get out of control. Sometimes it’s us parents – we forget that they’re just kids and don’t really understand. Even more – the party is not for them, it’s for us. We like throwing parties and we want to do it up. We have a vision. It becomes about fulfilling that vision.

I’ve thrown birthday parties for under $100 and I’ve thrown them for hundreds, (and gotten a smidge carried away, I admit).

I have this thing about birthdays. My mom taught me that we should celebrate ourselves, and I take birthdays very seriously (as in, it’s all about moi!). It’s the one day a year that you can make it all about you – and I do believe everyone deserves their day, including my husband and myself!

Favourite clothes, favourite food, a gift that they’ve really wanted, That’s the start. The kids never have to go to school on their birthdays – in fact, I’ve never worked on my birthday, and I’m 45.

I always ask the boys what they want to do. They can go ride rollercoasters, ask to go to a hotel for a weekend (check out my post on staycations) and they can also have a party if they want one, and they’ve always wanted one. (If they didn’t, that would be a different story).

I like to do big parties with all of their friends – the whole class and the whole daycare – because I want to celebrate my child. I want all of their friends to celebrate them, too. They won’t remember the presents, they won’t remember exactly what went on at the party, but they’ll always remember the big celebration and the fuss made over them.

When they were younger I invited family and some of our friends, but by about 3 they had enough friends for a party – and the family? I’m sure they weren’t too hurt to be let off the hook on a Saturday afternoon.

I’m lucky that one of my kids has a summer birthday. Although I worry about the weather ruining the party every year, I have a big party in the park (no venue fee) and I’ve never been rained out yet. My younger one has a May birthday, and we’ve had to keep it inside. I’ve found really inexpensive venues – the community centre has a cool event room for $29/hour – and they can go swimming too! I live in the city (Urban Mom Elisa) and my home is way too small for anything more than 4 or 5 kids, or I’d have the parties here.

My husband and I have celebrated milestone birthdays for each other with big parties, but the kids really love the tradition. It’s always what they want though, not me. I like baking the birthday cupcakes so the cake has never bit my budget. I have a big box of decorations, plates, napkins, and each year I add to that box, using what I have left over from last year’s festivities. Kids are easy to occupy, they like to play. It’s actually much easier than it sounds to occupy 25 kids for 3 hours.

One year one child wanted a movie birthday, the other wanted a play birthday, some years it’s costumes, other years it’s waterguns. One year we found a mini-zoo to come to the party, the boa constrictor was a huge hit.

Kids are easy to please. Parties don’t need to be $800 at the best local destination. They don’t need to be $2,000 affairs with custom loot bags. They should reflect what the little one wants, without breaking the bank, and most importantly, without bringing on stress. Parties are supposed to be fun – I don’t know how that was forgotten along the way, probably as specialty items became the “must-haves” and the costs started adding up.

There really is no right or wrong answer, and you need to celebrate your child’s birthday (and your own!) the way you see fit, but I love that it’s become a day to celebrate myself, and it brings me great happiness to see that my kids are learning to celebrate themselves in style!

 

Sick and tired: They’re sick. I’m tired.

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The stomach flu made the rounds in my house.

I love being thrown up on (said no mother, ever).

I really do hate vomit, like nothing else, I hate it. I hate doing all of the laundry after. Puke laundry is the most miserable type of laundry in the world. It smells, it stains and the pre-cleaning part of it is…

Right, there’s no need to explain it to you.

Sometimes it all makes me sit back and wonder:

A) How did I get appointed the cleaner of the puke?

B) Why must my son stand on the stairs when he throws up?

C) Why must he lose his bladder, lose his bowels and lose his breakfast all at the same time? (On my stairs)

D) Why did he sneeze on me after?

E) Why didn’t I picture this when I imagined what motherhood would be like?

But the other part is that it’s so hard to see them sick. They’re not themselves. They’re quiet. Little.

My boy isn’t his usual hurricane self, and as crazy as it seems when I think about it, when he lies there snuggling into me, curled up and glassy eyed, voice soft, it makes me crazy. As much as always I think I want him to behave and just quiet down and listen to me, when he gets this way and does – it makes me realize how much his wild, super-charged energy is what makes him, well, him.

I also don’t understand why my child being sick is so exhausting to me.

It can’t be the energy I waste on worrying. It’s probably not the 100 trips up and down the stairs doing load after load of laundry, because stripping and changing a bed and his pajamas all day long isn’t actually all “that much” work. It can’t be the effort it takes to get the toast just the right amount of crispy and the tea not too hot and not too cold and not too sweet and not too tea-ish, like he wants it, just so he’ll keep down some fluids. It can’t be the 12 times he woke me up to tell me he can’t sleep. It can’t be the hours I spend watching him breathe, toss, turn and sleep restlessly, nestled into my side, hoping he won’t throw up again.

Oh, but maybe it’s that I’ve had to go through this twice. Just can’t wait till it’s my turn.

 

 

Yes I’m pregnant, NOT fat – here are 4 things that bug me the most

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I’ve been away from blogging for a few months. Mostly due to being busy and just not having the energy while pregnant. We’re expecting our 2nd child in late March. I’ve been rocking the diclectin like it’s candy. UGH.

There are several things that really bug me while pregnant, but these few sure take the icing on the cake:

  • Touching my belly (without asking)

Not sure why, but maybe because I am not a big hugger. Or because it just feels wrong; like you’re invading my personal space or something. I have only had 2 belly touchers this pregnancy (other than my husband, son and Dr.), and one of them was a good friend (who asked) and the other an almost stranger! Sure, we live in a small town, and the lady (whose name I don’t even know) has served me at the restaurant once or twice before, but she thought that she was worthy of a belly touch. Umm no!  I let it happen, but I am sure that my face said it all. What. Are. You. DOING?!

  • Commenting on my size

I don’t find the comments much different than last pregnancy, but I do think that many comments just shouldn’t come out of people’s mouths! Whether you’ve experienced pregnancy or not, it should be noted that most pregnant women are likely already dealing with more emotions/over-thinking than they’d like, so, if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything. Some of my recent favourites include: “Oh wow, you’ve really gained weight since the last time I saw you”, (and strangely on the same day), “You’re 27 weeks – you don’t even look pregnant – you better eat more!”

Whether you think I am not big enough, gaining weight quickly, or just want to remind me that I am eating for 2, just keep it to yourself.  By the way, it’s not any better when you point out where I’ve gained weight…..you’ve gained it in your face, or your butt, whatever! Just STOP!

  • Puking kids

I work in a large elementary school. It’s like working in a petri dish of germs. I know sometimes you don’t know that your kid is going to be sick (to their stomach), but for those parents that send their kids to school after they puked that morning, I want to yell at you! As well, sending students down to the office (they sit in my eye sight 95% of the time) to wait for their parents, and giving them a bucket/garbage can to puke in is not ok. The sound of someone vomiting makes me vomit, as does the smell. And this Mom has done enough puking with this pregnancy.

  • The stupid glucose test

Didn’t enjoy it last time, and definitely didn’t enjoy it this time. Over the holidays, I headed over to our local Dynacare to do the glucose test. I was so stoked to have one hour to sit and just read a book (I promised myself I wouldn’t go on social media…that would’ve been do-able, if the following hadn’t of happened). I presented my paperwork, and the lab tech said, “I will go and grab it…but it’s room temperature as our fridge broke over the holidays”. Well LUCKY me! I debated over heading home and trying another day, but it is not too often that I have it easy for someone watching Tyson (Ian was on holidays). I couldn’t imagine bringing him and having him sit in the small room and just wait for an hour after chugging that nasty drink. So, after giving myself a quick pep-talk, I uncapped the bottle and tried a gulp.

SO NASTY.

Worse at room temperature.

I tried to suck back what I could. And then at 4 minutes and 30 seconds, the lab tech reminded me that I only had 30 seconds left to drink and I wanted to cry. Both this time, and last time, she reminded me not to chug it, because if I puked (like I’m not already trying to avoid that), I would have to come back another day. So, I said that I would do my best, and keep trying to drink it. In just under 10 minutes I was done drinking it. Then she chimed in that my results might be affected (negatively) since I didn’t drink it within the time limit.

WHAT?!

Needless to say, I did remain there for the next 60 minutes and got my blood taken. I should note at my recent doctor’s visit – just hit the 30 week mark – that my results were in, and I was well under the range for the possibility of gestational diabetes.

And finally, people being absolutely baffled that my husband and I have chosen not to find out the sex of our baby. It’s not that I don’t understand why many want to know, but more so, why the H-E-double-hockey-sticks, it matters to you that we’re not finding out.

I am not a prepare-the-nursery kind of gal. Nor the themed nursery.

Or the person who feels less prepared because I don’t know what colour of baby clothes to purchase (on a side note – it is becoming harder and harder to find gender neutral clothing).  I am definitely not one for surprises, but there is something exciting about a surprise like this. As long as our baby is healthy, I am happy.

I know that it sure helped get through labor last time!

I’ll leave my pregnancy rant on a positive note – here’s a fun pic that our ultrasound technician captured at our 20 week ultrasound!

Want To Rip A Hole In The Time/Space Continuum? Have Kids.

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Want to feel smart? Being a mom is like being a physicist, and every day is an experiment in time, space and sanity. Consider some of these basic principles (and yes, I do spend long nights awake):
  1. Often, I’m creating time where time does not exist.
  2. While two bodies cannot occupy the same space, two smaller bodies can fuse themselves to my exoskeleton while I’m trying to sleep.
  3. The speed of light is constant. The speed at which my younger son can launch food across the table is faster than the speed of light, which pretty much makes him a tachyon.
    And he’s not even two.
  4. The acceleration of an object – say, a sharp pointy toy – by an applied force is related to the magnitude of the pain it produces in my face.
  5. An object in motion tends to stay in motion.
    And loud. It also tends to be loud.
  6. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. For instance, the volume of my voice goes up equally and exponentially to the crap my kids get into.
Mummyhereandthere.com

Mummyhereandthere.com

So there you go. The next time you’re feeling down because your house is a mess or your kids are testing the Doppler effect at a pitch only dogs can hear, take a moment and know that we’re all occupying the same space. The results may be different, but that’s part of the experiment.

Oh sugar.

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There are two types of snackers in this world. The first are sweets people, the second are savoury snackers. Whether you can control yourself or you’re an indulger, there’s always a go-to.

Yes, those salty, garlicky kale chips in your hand, for example. Good choice, you savoury person you. At least it wasn’t a bag of potato chips or a stash of pork rinds, but you’re still a savoury.

And you – yes, you, who just “straightens” the edge of the cake, never taking a slice, just nibbling and pecking for a little sugar punch to the taste buds – you, my friend are a sweets person.

Me? I lean towards savoury. Give me salt, a dose of something fried, a little spice and I’m in snacker’s paradise. I love chocolate ice cream – I mean, come on! It’s ICE CREAM, but I know in my heart of hearts if you offer me movie theatre popcorn with extra butter I’ll denounce both Ben and his partner Jerry (unless it’s really hot out, but that’s not a fair fight!).

The problem with snacking is that I’m a snacker. It doesn’t help with the battle of the post-baby bulge (and certainly didn’t help in the battle of the pre-baby bulge, either), but after years of trying different methods of healthy eating and weight loss, I’ve learned what works for me.

Cutting out the beloved carbs.

Sorry carbs.

Carbs are essentially sugar. Whether it’s refined sugar, or carbohydrates, which the body breaks down as sugar, both forms of sugar are not doing us snackpacks any good!

Carbs are the 21st century scourge and scapegoat the way saccharine and diet colas were the solution to all problems in the 70s and the removal of all fat was the answer to our weight-control prayers in the 90s. Those fat-free foods, what? How can you have fat-free sour cream? Fat-free potato chips? Fat-free turned out not to be such a great idea either.

My favourite quotable quote of the recent nutritional revolution is from a book I listened to (I went through a phase of listening to audio books on my daily commute) called Skinny Bitch. Author Rory Freedman said ‘Whenever you see the words fat free or low-fat, think of the words chemical shit storm.’ Truer words, my friends, truer words. 

Not only do I NOT want to eat a chemical shit storm, I do not want to feed my family a chemical shit storm. I don’t want to teach them that chemical shit storms are a good replacement real food.

But what I also learned is that fat is not the enemy and sugar is actually not my friend. That fats are not the evil monsters I once thought. This is a realization that many people are just now starting to discuss.

I’m not even going to get into the politics.

Because politics.

I’m also not a nutritionist so I’m not giving advice here. This is just my personal experience after trying to figure out all of this nutrition stuff.

I live better when I live without carbs. Atkins, Paleo, South Beach, these fad diets are actually not fads at all. They are lifestyle changes to remove some foods that best allow for weight control and curbing cravings.

Yep. NO CARBS. Generally the average person is supposed to consume between 225 grams to 325 grams of carbs a day – roughly half of a day’s caloric intake will be from carbs. But if carbs are cut to a maximum of 50 grams per day, the body goes into ketosis. This is a state where it burns fat for fuel instead of sugar.

Who even knew a body could do that?

I’ve tried it and I like it, but I find it can be hard to sustain. But without carbs, I get no cravings. I get no hunger pangs. I get no sugar rushes or crashes. My body burns my fat supply as readily accessible fuel. It allows me to make better food choices.

There’s definitely something about sugar…

My mantra: Food is fuel. I can enjoy a nice steak, just skip the dinner rolls. I can have some savoury kale chips, just smaller portions. I can even indulge in chocolate, so long as it’s good, dark chocolate with no sugar added. I seriously love 85% cocoa chocolate.

It’s astounding what the body can do. There are apps to help track carbs and lists of healthy and nutritious foods that will give you all of the nutrients you need, it’s just a shame there’s no app that can actually convince me to put down the snacks and get to the gym!

NOTE: There are differing views on ketogenic diets. A ketogenic diet has been considered beneficial for medical reasons – like treating epilepsy, weight control – but can be extremely dangerous, too, specifically to diabetics. Before embracing this diet, please do your own research and talk to your doctor.

 

New Year’s Resolutions for Parents

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Let’s play a game. It’s called New Year’s Resolutions for parents. Since parents don’t get paid for parenting, we figure it’s the perfect time to strategize an income stream.

Don’t ask me whose paying for all of this, but parenting is hard, it deserves a six-figure salary, and this is how it will work: Imagine if you could get paid for keeping these New Year’s Resolutions. How much would your parenting salary be in 2017?

  1. Will not yell at the kids $2,500
  2. Will not threaten the kids with taking away toys $2,500
  3. Will not use food as a bribe $2,500
  4. Will not use toys as a bribe $1,000
  5. Will not give in to the kids just to avoid parenting $5,000
  6. Will make them clean their rooms $1,500
  7. Will make them do their homework $500
  8. Will not do their homework for them to get it done $1,000
  9. Will not give them treats to make them like me $2,000
  10. Will not hide in the bathroom eating ice cream or chocolate $10,000
  11. Will not hide in the bathroom to eat their Easter chocolate $5,000
  12. Will not hide in the bathroom to eat their Halloween candy $5,000
  13. Will not fight with spouse/partner in front of kids $10,000
  14. Will not finish off whatever food the kids leave behind instead of wrapping it up $2,500
  15. Will not consider the leftovers to be dinner in lieu of preparing a proper meal $5,000
  16. Will make bedtime a priority $1,000
  17. Will read more to the kids $2,500
  18. Will make more time for myself $5,000
  19. Will make time for my relationship $5,000
  20. Will skip cleaning up in favour of play time $5,000
  21. Will skip cleaning up in favour of a little me time $2,500
  22. Will not make two dinners because the kids are fussing about the meal $1,000
  23. Will not sweat making extravagant meals and instead focus on simple and nutritious $2,000
  24. Will stop putting junk food in their lunches $500
  25. Will stop buying junk food for myself with the justification that it can go in the kids’ lunches $1,000
  26. Will not steer their friendships based on which parents I like $5,000
  27. Will let them dress themselves, even if they look crazy $2,500
  28. Will show them instead of doing it for them $5,000
  29. Will give them a chance and then follow through with consequences $10,000
  30. Will give them the opportunity to redeem themselves $5,000
  31. Will be their parent first, their friend second $10,000
  32. Will not ask medical advice on parenting forums/Facebook groups $5,000
  33. Will not start parenting wars on parenting forums/Facebook groups $5,000
  34. Will not confine my boy to “boy toys” or my girl to “girl toys” $10,000
  35. Will make them take responsibility for pet care $500
  36. Will not lie about why they can’t have a pet, “Because I don’t want one” is good enough $1,000
  37. Will limit screen time to what I *actually* tell people I limit it to $500
  38. Will fess up the real amount of screen time I give my kids when asked $2,500
  39. Will not embarrass them on the schoolyard because I need another kiss goodbye $1,000
  40. Will start lengthening the leash and not hover $5,000
  41. Will not tell them to “Stop It!” when they start with the “But why…” $10,000
  42. Will not lie about stores being closed so you don’t have to buy something $50
  43. Will do more activities, arts, crafts and games and less family TV time $5,000
  44. Will not feel bad about falling behind on laundry $2,500
  45. Will make time to get sandy at the beach or wet in the snow $10,000
  46. Will worry less about wrinkles and embrace laugh lines more $2,500
  47. Will not set the clocks back for an early bedtime $1,000
  48. Will do better to hide the evidence of throwing away school art and projects $1,000
  49. Will say “Yes” more and “No” less $2,500
  50. Will stop getting angry at that sound they like to make, and noise in general $3,000
  51. Will balance parenting with my own identity and needs $50,000

So, what’s your income and what is your big resolution of the year? Any that we’ve missed?

I will not elf my shelf. Or shelf my elf.

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

I love my kids and I’d do anything for them.

Except Elf-on-a-Shelf.

I had never heard about Elf-on-the-Shelf until it started to appear in my Facebook feed a few years ago. I thought to myself, “Wow, that’s creative.”

And then, as my kids got bigger and life got even busier, I realized just what an undertaking this Elf-on-a-Shelf is. You need to remember to move the Elf every night. You need to come up with new and fun spots and predicaments. Some of the ideas that come up through my Facebook feed are nothing short of AAA Tableaus staged by master set decorators! And they do it times 24 nights leading up to Christmas in December.

my-elf-on-a-shelf

In my house, we consider it a win if the Tooth Fairy shows up within three days of a tooth loss, I can not fathom shelfing that Elf every night.

Occasionally my husband and I have played funny pranks. I’m exceptional at making sure Santa’s milk was sipped and that a trail of cookie crumbs proves he ate the cookies we baked – I even chop up the carrots we leave out for the reindeers and throw them along the lawn (and into the neighbour’s lawn) so that they can see that Santa was indeed at our house.

My husband and I have been known to freeze action figures into ice, making it look like they got trapped in our front yard. We have lawn gnomes that will occasionally end up in crazy vignettes. We fill water balloons and add food colouring to surprise them with magic ice crystal balls. We mount surprise water fight attacks – but we can’t be trusted to Elf our shelf every night. It’s setting us up for failure.

I have nothing but respect for parents that can – just like I’m always impressed by people that can live Pinteresting lives in great detail, but nope, not us.

It’s good to know your limitations. Holidays are busy, we’ve got more than one tradition going on at a time so it’s fine juggling act to begin with, and the Elf would just topple our precarious balance. My son has started asking, and so my husband explained it by putting the little guy on the shelf.

Our own Elf on our own Shelf – it’s been enough to keep him from pushing the issue… this year.

Mobile devices, crude weaponry and other distractions

Posted on by Posted in The Struggle is Real .

Four year-olds have no concept of time.

Oh sure, they say they do. Tell your kid that he has a friend’s birthday party coming up next weekend and he’ll nod in happy agreement. You may even help him circle the important date on a calendar. It’s just a ruse. You may as well tell him that the party is in one hour, because that’s how long he’ll ask you for clarification. Every day for the entire week.

“Is it today Mommy?”

“No, it’s next week.”

“Today?”

“What? No, it’s next week. In seven days.”

“On Monday, Mommy?”

“No honey. Next Saturday. In seven days. That’s six more sleeps.”

“It’s tomorrow?”

And so on.

As such, telling your child “One moment please,” while you finish up a chore or a phone call is equally futile (one moment = forever). Things have to get done – our family can only occupy a space for so long before it’s taken up with debris and general chaos. I’ve become adept at distraction and proficient at stealing, even creating time to get things done. A few things have worked for me:

1. Colouring: I give them crayons and a colouring book or blank paper (Note: I have to tell them to play nicely. This important caveat is the difference between calm parallel play and making colourful prison shivs.) Colouring lasts five whole minutes, which is exactly how long it takes to get laundry into the washer and address a Crayola stabbing. I can only throw in one load. Don’t think for a second that I have time to fold anything. In fact, I try not to think at all.

Thinking wastes time.

2. Right after school, the boys get a snack and a drink. This is prime dish washing time. They can go as long as 15 minutes if I turn on the TV.

3. If I want a morning sleep-in, I’ll give the kids my iPhone. I can gain an extra 30-minutes and will only have to replace half of my apps. I can sleep right up until the eldest pokes me in the face and announces that he called Tokyo. He’ll mis-pronounce it so it seems cuter.

4. Sometimes, not often, I wake up before my kids do. I realized a long time ago that I would never sleep through the night again, so I don’t fight it. It’s prime time to steal a shower, brush my teeth and start breakfast. Typically, I only make it to the shower before tiny hands and arms are poking my flabby bits through the curtain.

5. On weekends, we run our kids pretty hard. Swimming, skating, soccer – we let them off their leads whenever possible. My four year-old gave up his naps a long time ago, but every once in a while he’ll crash. If it’s time right, there’s a perfect intersection between his nap and the baby’s nap. We call this time the Mythical Unicorn Happy Pants Dance. In theory, there is no limit to the things I can accomplish. Usually, the list is so overwhelming that I implode and sit down to watch non-cartoon related TV.

There are times when 100% focus is not an option – driving, using the stove, operating a forklift, shopping online during Cyber Monday, etc. When it comes to the small stuff (and 85% of it is small stuff), I resign myself to leaving it half done. My older child will ask me to help him count the coins in his piggy bank, or my youngest will drag a book twice his size to the kitchen, calling “Mama! Dis!” I’ll stop what I’m doing and sit with them.

It would be terribly boring and sad to look back and say: “My kids fought really hard for my attention, but damn I had sparkling plates!” Life is about more than keeping a clean house. It takes far less effort to enjoy my kids than to figure out how to distract them.