A Trip to the Theatre

Toby had his first “cultural experience” this weekend.  His beloved Grandma Lynda brought me up to be a well rounded cultural child by torturing me with numerous “special trips” to the symphony, the ballet, Stratford plays and all kinds of luxuries that required me to sit still, not talk and pay attention for hours and hours on end.  Or so it seemed.  I don’t think I truly appreciated how lucky I was until well after I had learned to tolerate, then enjoy and then later on love all of the things she exposed me to.

I am so pleased to know that she holds the same standards for her grandchildren and that they too will learn the art of patience through varying forms of “cultural experiences”.

Not wanting to get him too excited too far in advance, Grandma phoned Toby on Wednesday night to invite him out with her to the theatre and then lunch at Boston Pizza afterwards.  He was SO excited.  The whole family was down in Toronto for this event but it was only Toby and Grandma who set out for the big adventure on Saturday morning,

Toby chose to wear his finest pants and his black plaid sweater.  He put them on secretly in his room and came downstairs proudly flaunting his smart outfit to us.  I took the token picture with him excitedly (and somewhat nervously) standing proudly beside Grandma before they set out.

I don’t know if it was the excitement in the air, the smartness of their dressy outfits or just the joy of seeing two people you love so much revel in the pure excitement of doing something special together, but it was a fulfilling moment for ALL of us.  I returned home from my own adventures to meet an excited Toby and Grandma eager to tell me about the various details of their day.

I have to admit, a lot of the details centered around what pizza they ate and who won the checker game at Boston Pizza but there were intermingled quips about Princesses, balloons and evil step mothers to prove they HAD seen a children’s play as well.

After his exhausting day Grandma was the obvious choice for bedtime routine and she took him upstairs to read him stories.  After the stories they snuggled into bed and reminisced about their day.  Toby politely thanked my mom and then very sweetly but apprehensively said, “Grandma?  Um…I actually didn’t really like the play all that much.”

My mom was surprised but pleased with this sudden burst of candor, so maturely timed.  The funny thing was that she agreed; it HADN’T been that great of a play.  She told Toby that she appreciated his honesty and that she hadn’t actually liked it all that much either.

Toby let out a deep breath he had likely been holding in since about noon.

“OH, GOOD, Grandma,” he said with relief.  “Cause I actually didn’t like it AT ALL.”

Halloween Heartbreak: An Update

It took 5 days. (Five LOOONG and barf filled days!)  Finally today Toby was ready to go back to school.  Apart from falling asleep on the school bus on the way home, the transition back seemed smooth and seamless.   He had a great day and happily sat down to dinner with us afterwards, eager to fill us in on life at school

We had heard about the usual – who was there, who wasn’t etc. when all of a sudden his eyes got big and he dropped his fork to tell us the EARTH shattering new he had just remembered.

“Mommy,” he said very seriously, “You won’t believe it.  October is GONE.  Everything October has FINISHED!  Now there’s this NEW thing and we’re on the 5^th.”

When I asked what this “new thing” was he shook his head in disgust. “ I don’t know…all I know is that it’s the FIFTH.  I guess I’ll have to listen more carefully tomorrow.”

And with that he picked his fork up and attended to his stir-fry.

You forget how important it is to make smooth transitions with these vulnerable little sponges.  I’m sure Mrs. Shields had made a big production of November 1^st, preparing the kids for the NEW month and the NEW themes with the ritual changing of the calendar.  Toby’s favourite thing about kindergarten is the dependably predictable calendar and so far, his short career as a JK student has only included the ONE transition from September to October.   Here I was spending all of my mommy energy making sure he was fever free, hydrated and nourished enough to have the strength to go back to school when really what he needed was a heads up that it was a NEW month called NOVEMBER.

They should really include stuff like this in our mommy manuals, don’t you think?

Halloween Heartbreak

My children were born with this innate ability to break my heart, and they do it regularly, in the most unpredictable of ways.

For the past 21 days we have been on the countdown to Halloween.  Usually it’s on the way to school but sometimes it’s over dinner that the conversation comes up: “How many sleep until Halloween?  Twenty?” Toby would ask, hopeful that he had miscounted and the days would be fewer than anticipated.  They never were- - he was always right, and his patience was put to a test on a daily basis.

When FINALLY the big day arrived, Toby could hardly believe his good luck.  He put his costume on to go to school in with such excitement it was contagious.

The line between your child’s happiness and your own is often blurred.  I spent Halloween morning in my own cloud of excited anticipation for the much-awaited event, until, of course, I got the phone call from school.  Toby was sick.

Of ALL DAYS!!!

I rationalized this impossible scenario to myself by assuming that

a) The school was overreacting

And b) that it was probably nothing we couldn’t drug up with the usual concoction of Tylenol and Advil in order to squeeze some trick or treating in anyways.

To my dismay, I was wrong.  Even TOBY had lost his vigilance towards the most anticipated event.  Arriving home that night, I found him lying on the couch in a giant ball of feverish lethargy.  Not only did he not CARE that he was missing Halloween but he had an unrelenting and rapidly escalating fever and, just to make his point loud and clear, vomited all over the place as I walked in the door.

I took Mia out trick or treating anyways.  She was, I have to say, a very cute chicken, and she took the job of walking up to each house and holding her bag out rather seriously which made her an even CUTER chicken.  But deep down I was heartbroken.  I felt like I used to feel going to weddings as a single person while all of my friends had dates.  And although it was really nice of them to share their dates with me during the slow dances, it didn’t replace the ache I had longing for my OWN date to be there.

The day after Halloween, Toby was feeling no better and he had STILL not even broached the topic of his missed Halloween.  After putting him to bed at a record early time of 5pm, Mia suddenly had an epiphany: she had mom and dad ALL to HERSELF.

It was just after bath that the full realization of her single child status hit home.  She came bouncing onto the couch with her bottle and blanket and loudly tried to determine which parent she would sit with,’ Meeena sit DADDY!” she said climbing onto his lap, only to announce a few seconds later, “Meeena sit MOMMY” and crawled over to me.  Finally she settled in between us, pulled the covers up to her chin, picked up her bottle and solemnly announced with a satisfied sigh, “Meeena home...”

Life is exhausting; I’ve had my heartbroken by both of my children all in the span of 48 hours.  While Toby’s heartbreak came from sadness and empathy, Mia’s was all pride and joy.   It’s amazing how loving two people so much can bring such wild and fluctuating emotions to your day-to-day life.  What a wild ride this is…

Hurricane Sandy's Morning Lesson

Just when you think life can’t possibly get any busier, along comes Hurricane Sandy.

At first it started with an eye roll on my way to work.  SUUUURE I needed to get my emergency-preparedness kit ready.  RIIIGHT it’s going to be SO windy that I need to come up with an evacuation plan for my family.

How about I wear a raincoat to work and plan to stay indoors tonight?  That sounds a little more realistic; those weather people are ALWAYS stirring up drama.

And so I eye-rolled away at the frantic warnings and Presidential address.  In fact, I believe I was watching something in that vein when the power abruptly went out on us last night. 

“At least I’m not in the back corner of the basement running on the treadmill,” I thought to myself as I heard Rob shriek as he was pummeled backwards into the wall as a result of the sudden cessation of forward momentum.

Having the lights go out is romantic. 

Until you remember that you have two kids, a dog, and a house that relies on well water for all of the necessary amenities.  AND that you have only just recently won the annual “it’s cold enough to turn on the furnace” debate (which is now suddenly a moot point).  And that your husband is a big smelly I-just-ran-on-the-treadmill-and-I’m-sweating-all-over-and-there’s-no-water-to-take-a-shower-with-mess.

If that doesn’t zap all romance out of the situation I don’t know what does.

And so we frantically ran around the house, putting extra blankets on sleeping kids, trying to figure out what lights and appliances needed to be turned off, how to light the gas fire place, where the batteries to our flashlights were and calling Hydro One to report what must have been the 93,000 home to lose powered.

(Let me just pause for a moment to smugly add that I at NO POINT needed to use the single can opener or the canned food I had been so ARDENTLY cautioned to keep in stock by the local radio announcer)

We finally put all practicality aside and went to bed for the night only to be awoken 7 hours later by a hungry, and rather impatient almost-2-year old’s repetitive request, “LIGHT – ON!  Light – ON!”  And back into action we sprang!  Complete darkness and intense coldness embraced our 7am bodies as we scurried around the house lighting candles in an attempt to mitigate the effect these dire conditions would have on our sensitive (light requesting) 2 year old.  Finally the house was as good as it was going to get and we went in to get our frustrated Mia out of her crib.

They say that seeing the world through the eyes of a child makes everything better.

And they were right.  Mia didn’t care that she was cold, nor that the wind was still howling against our house.  As we prepared ourselves for her usual terse remarks about the abysmally dark and sad state of our house, Mia burst into song.

“Happy TOOOO!!!!” she shouted excitedly, clapping her hands together, “Happy TOOO!!!!!” she sang as her bewildered eyes took in the myriad of candles we had lit around the house.

Mia, always ready for a party, had taken one look at all the candles and made the obvious assumption: she had woken up to someone’s birthday party.

One, Two, Or Not!

Mia’s newest obsession is with the game of Hide and seek.  She is not only quite an avid participator, but she is much more adept at the game than Toby ever was at such an early age.  She has come up with a few hiding spots that are, although not ingenious, quite sufficient at hiding enough of her to make a game out of it.  Then again, it doesn’t get much worse than hiding in the middle of the room (which Toby used to do, triumphantly, during his games of Hide and Seek).

The other night, though, her true hide and seek sense of humour came through.  I got home for a very brief interval between my regular office day and my night shift in the after hours clinic.  I had initially planned to stay at work but called at he last minute to say I’d be home for a short time to hang out with my family.

I burst through the doors to a dead quiet, empty house and was greeted only by a very serious Mia who was eerily standing alone in the front hall.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, slightly disappointed that they weren’t all around to hang out with me in my brief interlude at home.

But Mia’s next expressive and overly enunciated word explained it all,

“HIDING!!!” she said in an excited whisper and threw her chubby little finger up to her lip to emphasize her point before covering her eyes with both hands and quickly reciting her Hide and seek mantra, “One….two…OR NOT!”

AHA!  So Rob WAS excited to see me.  SOOO excited, in fact, that he and Toby were making a game out of it.  This was EXACTLY what I needed and why it is worth the extra driving!

I quickly dropped all of my work stuff, grabbed her hand and set of about the house  reciting the phrase, whith childish flare, “Wheeeeere’s DADDY?   Wheeeeere’s TOBY?” while I looked in all of the obvious hiding spots.

I believe I was looking under our bed, bum in the air, a giggling Mia by my side, when Rob and Toby came stomping up the stairs, loudly declaring their whereabouts (they had been in the basement getting something out of the freezer for dinner) and blatantly dissolving the imaginary game of hide and seek that Mia had so ingeniously invented.

“What are you looking for?”  My uber-practical husband asked expectantly.

“You?”  I answered sheepishly…

Sometimes life is just more fun seen through the eyes of a 20 month old…

Toby's First Homework Assignment

Toby was sent home the other night with his first ever homework assignment. 

Drumroll, please….he had to count as high as he could count.

I figured this activity would be an easy one and decided to engage him in it this afternoon as we drove home from school.

It took about 20 minutes, but all on his own, he made it to 127.  Yes, that’s right, ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY SEVEN.  All in a row.

Toby approached the task with a very serious, slow and methodical, over-enunciated determination.

It was, quite possibly, the boringest undertaking motherhood has ever presented me with.

When he hit 43 he dropped one of his raisins and I thought the challenge was over.  Turns out it was only a brief 10 second reprieve before he announced that he was going to go back to 40 and repeat 40 through 43 to be sure that he was still on the right track.

When he got to 75 a strangely parked car appeared out the window.  Again, a glimmer of hope came to mind, but still the monotonous count went on right where it left off after we had fully explored WHY this car was parked sideways halfway up Pretty River Parkway.

At last he reached 99 and took a great pause before asking, “What comes after 99 mom, TEN?”

“No!” I encouraged eagerly, “Ninety Nine is the last number before….ONE HUNDRED!  You did it!  You counted to ONE HUNDRED!”  

But what came next?

You got it…

“One hundred…and ONE…”

Finally he reached 126 and rather abruptly announced that he couldn’t count any higher because his voice was tired.

THANK GOD.

“Good, job, Toby!” I said, “Tonight when we get home we can tell Daddy and write in your school agenda that you can count to One hundred and Twenty Six.”

My concluding remarks were initially met with silence before a quiet but still determined whisper came from the back of the car,

“One hundred and twenty seven…”

The Sad Boy on Page 4

Mia’s vocabulary is exploding in front of our eyes.  I absolutely ADORE this stage that she is going through; the daily excitement over her new words, the bizarre American accent she uses when she over-annunciates things and the weird facial contortions is takes her to say the most basic of words are all so endearing that I want to stick her in a bottle and keep her 20 months old forever.

OK who am I kidding?  I don't REALLY want her to stay 20 months old forever; that would put a SERIOUS damper on my future life plans.  Suffice it to say, I am enjoying this stage immensely.

Tonight, however, her rapidly growing language skills brought us a new challenge.    We were enjoying some carefree time in the basement; Toby was perusing a Sports Illustrated and wondering aloud why Daddy hadn’t been invited to run against Usein Bolt in the 100m final at the Olympics while I was indulging in the latest Food and Wine magazine.  Mia, wanting to be part of the action, grabbed one of Toby’s books, and asked me to read it to her.

It was a rather boring book about 2 little kids who find an egg and the egg breaks and they are sad but then the chicken lays another egg and they are happy again.

(Who WRITES these books!?!?!?)

She was only partially paying attention until we hit the part where the boy was SAD.  I made a sad face as I said it so she would know what I was talking about and then I moved on.

Mia looked at me, looked at the book, and then promptly (and rather bossily) turned the page BACK and DEMANDED to know what was UP with the sadness.  Phrased in typical Mia-speak:

“SAD BOY?”

I explained that he was sad because the egg was broken and boldly flipped forward to the next page.

WOAH WOAH WOAH!!!! She proclaimed (In typical Mia –speak: “SAD!!!!”)  before turning the page BACK with her tight little fist.

She stared again at the sad little boy before making her melancholy observations,

“Sad HAT”

she lamented

“Sad SHOES”

as she pointed to his pitiful feet

“Sad BOY….”

she grieved, still holding tight to the page so I didn’t DARE try to tear her away YET AGAIN from her experience of this boy’s intriguing moment of anguish.

She sat very still for about 30 seconds, (which is probably the equivalent of 5 years to my dad) and then looked up at me with the most empathetic and hopeless look as she very sweetly asked, “HUG?”

Yes, Mia. You can hug the boy.

And so she gripped the book in her hot little hands and hugged the poor sad little boy with all of her love.

I’m still not quite sure WHY she was so fascinated by the poor sad boy on page 4 of the book, but I’m glad to see that she isn’t all just a bundle of mischievous energy; she can be pretty sweet, sometimes, too.