The Birthday Parade

There was a lot of hoopla around our house this morning because it is my birthday and to a 3 year old, that is a BIG DEAL. Toby has been counting down the sleeps for me for the past week and proudly announced at dinner last night, his little body excitedly bouncing up and down on his chair, that Daddy had hidden my BIRTHDAY PRESENT in HIS room.

(Thanks for keeping the secret, Toby.)

So this morning the excitement was at an all time high when he got to sing, blow out a candle with me and then help me open a present.

Just when I thought I had had my fill of excitement to last until next year, I got the news that IMMEDIATELY after breakfast there would be a BIRTHDAY PARADE in my honour.

I was escorted, with coffee, to the grey chair in the living room and told to sit tight and wait for the parade to start.

And with no further ado, here is what we have all been waiting for...

I'm sorry if I have disappointed all of you with that complete let down of a parade. But not to worry- here is take 2.

"The parade is over." That's life with a 3 year old!

The First Gift of Valentine's Day

I have posted before on my blog how Rob and I don’t “do” Valentine’s Day. Initially it was only Rob who was the party pooper. (Or, to put it more fairly, the more adamant about being non-commercial and segregating ourselves from our single friends blah blah blah…) I spent our first few valentines days bitter and resentful and quietly hopeful that I would eventually change him.

I spent the next few Valentine's days boastfully showering him in ]presents and cheesy cards, proving that I was the more thoughtful one…. in the hopes of leading by example.

I spent the next few Valentine's days in silent acceptance.

I seem to have forgotten the Valentine's days that followed.

And then last year he bought me bottle of wine and made me a nice dinner.

And THIS year I got…

A PRESENT.

In fairness to myself, I was not EXPECTING a Valentine’s day present (See paragraph # 1 through 6 of this email) so when Rob quietly suggested to me that I had overlooked something on my bedside table as I entered the kitchen that morning, I didn’t immediately know it was a FATAL MISTAKE to engage my present-obsessed-3-year-old in the delight of my surprise gift.

That’s why Toby was the one to open the heart shaped box that contained the most EMBARASSING pair of LINGERIE I have ever owned.

Now don’t get your knickers in a knot; it’s not what you think. You see, a few weeks ago I heard a statistic on the radio that 43% of women carry a pair of sexy lingerie in their purse “just in case”.

SERIOUSLY?!?!?

It has been a hot topic of incredulous conversation ever since. In fact, the next time you are at a dinner party or a coffee date or a business meeting that you think is going sour, just offhandedly throw that statistic in and I GUARANTEE you will garner MUCH conversation about it.

So the underwear was KIND OF a joke. At least, I HOPE it was a joke because it was the most OUTLANDISH pair of underwear I have ever seen. SO ridiculous, in fact, that I was able to tell Toby it was a SCARF that daddy had bought me and very KINDLY left me on my bedside table. (In a little heart shaped Victoria Secret Box.)

Lets just say there is a lot of “fringe” on it. And lace. And red bows. And narrow thong-like-posterior portions.

After Rob had left for the day I had a closer look at the hideous piece of absurdity that had become my first ever Valentine's day present. And I soon decided that there is really only one thing to DO when your husband tries to make a mockery of you by buying you ridiculous lingerie and then letting you open it in front of your 3 year old: WEAR IT.

At first I was a little worried that it wouldn’t fit under my jeans. It did. And I even got the zipper done up without catching one of the frolicking red bows in it.

I felt quite smug, knowing what was underneath my jeans that day. In fact, it’s the most smug I’ve ever felt on Valentines Day since I have met Rob.

Smug, smug, smug, all the way into town as I did my errands and as I talked to Rob on the phone and as we decided that the extra time we had before going for lunch would be best spent together at the gym.

Smug, smug, smug all the way to the gym…until I stepped into the change room and realized I would have to take OFF my jeans in order to put my gym clothes on, thus unveiling my now-not-so-smugly-subtle surprise.

Shit, shit, shit.

To make matters worse, a senior’s aquatics class had just ended and the YMCA change room was overrun by a large group of loud, floppy, wet octogenarians whose shocking-self-unabashedness did not bode well for my chance of subtle clothes changing.

After choosing the most discrete locker in the change room, a particularly chipper lady bounced over and took the locker next to me. She kindly smiled and said good morning to me as I smiled back through clenched teeth, thinking to myself, “I am about to traumatize you with my underwear”. And then I did.

Finally I was out of crazy land and into comfy gym attire and emerged from the change room ready to take my embarrassment out on the treadmill only to find Rob standing in exactly the same spot I’d left him in, still wearing his winter coat and boots.

??

“I forgot my gym shoes.” He said.

“Well? “ Rob asked, after observing my frozen look of disbelief. “What’s the big deal? We’ll just skip the gym and go for lunch. Go get changed!”

I will spare you the excruciating details of the embarrassment I endured, walking BACK into the change room to face the EXACT SAME GROUP OF LADIES (including the now-traumatized-chipper one who chose the locker next to mine) to now put BACK ON the embarrassing pair of thick lacy ridiculousness that was my first valentine's day present ever.

I am happy to report that today is February 17^th and I am still married.

This Valentines day I learned a valuable lesson - - even if a supposed 43% of the population is doing something, it doesn’t mean I need to do it too. Next year, I’m hoping to go back to plain and simple…

The Ten Kiss Limit

It has been so long since I have written in my blog that I now have a 1 year old and an almost 4 year old. Today we registered Toby for kindergarten; today was also the first day we gave Mia her first (successful) ponytail.

The kids continue to keep our lives going at warp speed but as we get further and further away from the first year of unpredictability I’m finding myself appreciating my time with them more and more.

In fact, a few weeks ago, Rob and I took our long awaited Rob-is-on-parental-leave-so-this-is-the-only-time-in-our-lives-we-can-travel-at-a-reasonable-time-of-year trip to Whistler to go skiing.

Without the kids.

I know how that sounds – blissful. Indulgent. Maybe even a little in your face show-offy. (Maybe this is why I haven’t posted about it yet??) But I have to tell you, as someone who has longed for the opportunity to read the paper and sleep in and watch a movie for over a year now, it was a complete learning experience for me as to where exactly I am in life right now.

I was VERY anxious about leaving, although I believe strongly in letting the grandparents have their turn to parent without having us around and it was ESPECIALLY important for Rob’s parents to have this time with them as they get to see the kids so seldom. So I just thought my pre-vacation jitters were something I was going to laugh about as soon as we drove away.

There was no laughing on the drive to the airport. In fact, there was no sleeping that first night and poor Rob had to put up with cranky me all the way out to Vancouver. By the time we got to the resort I was feeling so far away from them that even a beer in the hot tub couldn’t settle me and I turned to Rob and, just as he started to announce how happy he was, I shattered the moment with a homesick, “I THINK THIS IS A BAD IDEA.”

Thank god Rob and I have been together for as long as we have and that he knows me as well as he does. We survived that moment. And gradually, with the help of pretzels, red wine and Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and a long awaited phone call home, I got to seeing that I was going to be OK without my kids for the week.

(Sometime the only child in me shines through in its true colours…)

By day 3 I was feeling strong enough to skype with the kids without bursting into tears. I was SO excited to see them and immediately reminded of the chaos I had blissfully left behind. After talking my ear off for 5 minutes straight about everything he had done and seen and eaten while I was away (he was quite clearly having the time of his life) Toby suddenly grew very serious and LEANED in for a private one on one with me.

“MOMMMY” he said, his face about a millimeter from the screen, “I WAS SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU!!! And Mia has been REALLY worried about you, too!”

It was the most heartfelt way to express just exactly what I had been feeling without him.

I told him I missed him too and promised to give him a thousand kisses when I got home.

As the tears welled up in my eyes, my little guy brought me back to reality with a sudden snarl of his nose and a loud, “A THOUSAND!!! Ewwww. Mommy…that’s TOO MANY.”

“OK, FINE.” I conceded. “How many are YOU going to give ME?”

Toby thought about this for a bit before confidently deciding on a much more appropriate amount of post vacation kisses: TEN.

Rob and I had a fantastic week in Whistler: excellent skiing, relaxing afternoons, delicious meals out and many, many chats about our little family. I had no concerns about our relationship going into the week, but was almost surprised to find rekindled that quiet warmth and comfort of each others company.

But I have to say, the best moment of the trip had to have been those 10 kisses I got the morning I got home…

It’s dawning on me more and more these days, as Mia’s hair makes her look more like a little girl and Toby’s first day of school grows closer how quickly this is all going to go by.

Mia's Dance Moves

I’ve written a few times on my blog about the various musical aspirations I’ve had for my children. Toby was the first one to dupe me by PRETENDING to be a fan of Kanye while in the womb and then staring at me DUMBFOUNDED when I introduced him to real life hip hop music that wasn’t obscured by amniotic fluid. He then went on to prove to me that what kids ACTUALLY like are Raffi songs and Old MacDonald had a Farm. It took some getting used to, but almost 4 years into it, I now more often than not find myself bopping along to “Baby Beluga” for at LEAST 5 minutes after letting Toby off at daycare. It takes a while before noticing that I have regained control of my radio again.

OK FINE, that’s not the whole story. The truth is that a lot of times now I don’t even BOTHER to turn it off. Whoever WRITES these catchy songs for kids probably has a side job in Vegas because they draft the most ADDICTIVE and CATCHY tunes imaginable. After a few times you don’t even NOTICE how ridiculous the lyrics are you have so EMBEDDED the tune in your brain you just can’t suppress the urge to whistle, hum or sing it. Over. And Over. And finally HEARING the song again after whistling, humming or singing it to yourself all day long at the office is like finally scratching that spot on your back that has been itching all day long.

And then there was Mia.

Having learned NOTHING from Pregnancy #1, this time, Mia’s in utero musical selection had me convinced that she was a Drag Queen. (I guess the very fact that her default genitals are female immediately disproves my suspicion.) Mia didn’t seem to react AT ALL to music while she was a wee zygote. In fact, all of the addictive Raffi tunes in the world (and even Toby’s month long Frosty the Snowman kick) didn’t jolt her into a few kicks. It wasn’t until I was at the musical Priscilla Queen of the Desert that she proved that not only could she hear, but also that she LOVED that particular genre of music.

Since her birth I have PURPOSELY not brought out my Stayin Alive CD in the hopes of delaying the inevitable.

The real Mia is a serious little girl. It used to take a lot to get her to smile but she is realizing that life isn’t always so intense and has started grinning away mischievously and laughing loudly at anything and everything her idolized big brother does in front of her.

Just a few weeks ago, though, she showed us she could dance. At first we thought she was just shaking her head, “no” a lot, but then we seemed to put the pieces together and realized her very unique style of dance that was being demonstrated to us; head banging.

For the past while we thought her “head banging” was one dimensional – side-to-side in only the horizontal direction. But last night, when we brought out Dance Mix 2011 for our after dinner dance party, Mia’s dancing took on a WHOLE NEW LEVEL.

She started bouncing her head…

(Wait for it)

UP AND DOWN.

Now, I know this doesn’t PROVE anything - -I have been duped before and I will be duped again by my own offspring. But is this video not a PROMISING sign that MAYBE, just MAYBE I have birthed a child who finally APPRECIATES hip hop music?

I leave the question for you to ponder as you enjoy the uniquely hers dance moves of my sweet little Mia.

(Don’t judge me for owning Dance Mix 2011. It was a Christmas gift…from Santa.)

Rediscovering old hobbies

One of my favourite things that I learned in Thunder Bay was how to skate ski. I remember the serene kid-free weekends I used to spend up there, where my only plan for the day was to go skate skiing with Jane. We would meet at noon and take as long as we wanted, admiring the vastly beautiful landscape and the sweet behinds of the tall Finnish population of Thunder Bay as we tortured our lungs and legs with the great new sport I had discovered.

Towards the end of our 3-year stint up north I purchased a pair of skate skis in the hopes that I would continue to enjoy my newfound sport after my return to southern Ontario.

But alas, moving away from Thunder Bay I became busy with work and new friends. Before I knew it I had entered the first stages of parenthood; the symbiotic 9months of alien inhabitation that took over my body followed by the equally grueling 9 months of breastfeeding-not-sleeping-no-time-to-myself chaos that ensued. Needless to say, as my belly expanded with new life, so too did the cobwebs on my beloved pair of skate skis.

And then, just when life started to slow down a little we decided to do it all over again.

And so here I find myself, SIX YEARS post Thunder Bay, in the irrational excitement of Mia’s soon to be first birthday, eagerly fooling myself into thinking that I have life under enough control that I can finally rekindle the friendship I had with my skis last century.

My mission was ALMOST FOILED by an unexpected scheduling change at work and an impromptu snow squall, but I forged ahead and completed my mission.

I was the only one at the ski hills that day; apparently the “southern skiers” are easily deterred by bad weather. I scoffed to think what the tall Finnish Thunder Bay-ites would think of the feeble resolve of us lowly southerners. The ladies in the shop were QUITE pleased to finally have a customer on this particularly blustering minus 20 degree day and even offered some free trail advice.

And off I went.

Resuming the long lost sport of skate skiing after an unplanned 6 year hiatus is similar to going into labour for the second time; after two contractions it all comes FLOODING BACK to you and you suddenly REMEMBER as if it was only yesterday.

THIS.

SUCKS.

It is a GOOD THING I was all alone in the woods this week when I “rediscovered” the sport. Even then, I was SO BADLY out of shape and SO BRUTALLY unprepared that I was EMBARASSED.

It’s like the time old conundrum “If a tree falls in the middle of the woods, does anyone hear it?“ only changed up a little to read, “If Alyssa skate ski’s TERRIBLY in the middle of the woods and no one sees should she be embarrassed?”

The answer is yes.

In anticipation of the snow storm I had put on leggings, tights, pants AND show pants along with a long sleeve shirt, sweater, hoodie and bomber ski jacket, complete with scarf, ski mitts, hat and neck-warmer.

I looked like I could take on the abominable snowman but to put me on a pair of slender skate skis and ask me to sleekly glide through the woods was ludicrous.

And so I trudged along, huffing and puffing with my nose running profusely, every pore of my scalp sweating so much that my big ski hat kept falling off my head and an audible GROAN escaped my lips with every painful stride.

It was a LONG 2 km but FINALLY I made it back to the lodge without dying. As I stepped back in to the safety of the ski chalet a cloud of evaporating sweat ERUPTED over my head which told everyone there just how out of shape I was. But I forged on through the last few steps of utter embarrassment and managed to get to my car and out the driveway without a second glance.

I am proud to report that my skate skis are no longer covered in dust and cobwebs.

I may not be able walk without the telltale limp of a timely beating of unfamiliar muscles, but I am proud to say that Alyssa the Skate- Skier is back on the tracks. I may be the slowest one out there but hey; I do my Thunder Bay peeps proud…. I think…

2011

And alas, the year I thought would never arrive (and then never end) has done both of the above. I see 2011 off with a sigh and a smile as I am left with a potty trained 3 year-old, a busy toothful 11 month old, a rambunctious dog and a brand new coffee maker. Life is good.

This time last year, life was a big question mark. I riddled with questions about the new person about to enter our lives – when, where and how they would arrive and, most importantly of all, WHO they were.

And now we know. She turned our lives and our hearts upside down and is now hard at work at doing the same with our house. We have wooden construction pieces strewn all over the floor, a partially decorated tree with countless broken ornaments scattered at its feet and bite marks on the wooden furniture. But we also have the sight of her huge smile to wake up to every morning, the sounds of her and Toby’s laughter entertaining us after dinner and the smell of her sweet baby-ness as we snuggle her to sleep at night.

It all seems so simple when I write it on my blog – “it was tough but now it’s better” doesn’t quite apply to babies OR toddlers. There are still many moments when I want to pull my own or one of my children’s hair out. There are other moments when the Tina Fey scenario – drinking a diet sprite alone in a motel room – still sounds like absolute bliss. Some days the hours go by so quickly I don’t have time to breathe; other days 20 minutes in the playroom with both kids seems to last for hours.

I don’t expect any of that to change in 2012, but I feel a bit more prepared for what lies ahead than I did this time last year. I greet the New Year with crossed fingers for healthy children and for the supposed 99% efficacy of our chosen method of birth control.

Wishing health and happiness to you as well in 2012! Thanks for reading along on our journey….

See you next year!

Tis the Season to be Nice

Christmases past have been a learning curve for all of us. It has taken 3 years and I finally think Toby has grasped the concept that there is something beyond the wrapping paper, that the guy in the big red suit is worth not being afraid of, and that the baby’s name is NOT, in fact, Jay-Zee. (Some lessons more crucial than others when visiting the Catholic in laws…)

But this year, above all others, Toby has fixated on the differentiation between Naughty and Nice and the important ROLE this plays in the receiving of Christmas gifts. It’s a clever trick to play on kids, getting them to be well behaved on the threat of being passed up on Christmas Eve, but I take no credit for it; the kid announced this notion to us out of the blue last week and we have no idea where he was taught it.

Well…not NO idea, I suppose. He does attend daycare everyday and comes home with all sort of interesting and sometimes misinterpreted tidbits. I suspect that someone, sometime over the past few weeks, CASUALLY mentioned the fact that they were all under observation for good behaviour by Mr. Claus and Toby took it very seriously to heart.

Not only is he on his VERY BEST behaviour these days, but also he is quick to comment on the naughty behaviours he observes in his peers (with a sad shake of his head).

Anthony, for example, failed to keep his hands on his own body today at lunchtime, but Toby reassured us that he “put them back on his own!” after having this pointed out to him by our loud-mouth-Christmas-reminder.

The other problem with his sudden insight into this is his very endearing and earnest concern for his little sister’s behaviour. Mia, unlikely Toby, is going through a bit of a naughty phase right now. I mean, who can blame the girl? She has JUST gained independence and we go and stick a tantalizing tree complete with colourful lights, balls and toys on strings at varying distances from her reach. She now knows enough to shake her head from side to side (WILLING herself not to touch) as she approaches the tree with outstretched arms but that's as far as we've gotten. The girl is PERSISTENT.

Her insistence NOT to learn the rule around tree touching reached a peak yesterday; I arrived home to find a giggling Mia in a heap on the grey chair with (a very frustrated) Rob holding her down in place while looking in the opposite direction.

What on EARTH are you doing? I asked him.

“I’m giving her a TIME OUT” emerged the gruff voice from he peals of 11-month-old laughter.

“OH…” I replied, “How’s THAT working for you?”

It appears Rob and I have lost our touch. We have mastered the art of 3-year-old manipulation discipline but when it comes to stubborn, excessively mobile 11 month olds we are stumped.

We are all hoping to wake up Christmas morning to find the Christmas tree still standing with lots of well deserved presents for Toby underneath it…and hopefully a little something for Mia as well. Fingers crossed!!!