Bread Crumbs In The Butter

A conversation with my son

A month or so ago, as I was making dinner and he was doing his homework, Alex and I had a conversation about the size of our family and his desire for a male sibling.

"I want a brother" he said. "I have three sisters and no brother. That's not fair and those girls are mean!"

He has a point. Those girls are champions at doing all of the things that older sisters are supposed to do to their brother to make him wish he was not only an only child, but that girls from all over the world were banished to an island in the Pacific until they were needed for procreation.

I replied "Alex, I am not having another baby. Sorry, buddy, this is it!"

He thought about it and said "No, I know. But how about we adopt one? A boy. Who is the same age as me?"

Maybe I had some born-in mother sense that told me how the rest of this conversation was going to play out, because while lovely in theory, the idea of having another person to be responsible for in this house just isn't feasable for me. Still, I humoured him.

"Yeah. We should look into it! But he has to be in the same grade, but younger than me, so born after February.  And he can't be better looking than me, cause he will steal all the girls. And you can't tell him he's your most favourite boy in the whole world like you say to me..."

I could see his nine year old brain working and processing through what he was saying. I saw the progression.  I've lived that progression as I start out with what I think is a phenomenal idea and unleash it into the world before I have realized on my own that it's just plain horrible to even consider.

"Wait ..." he said. "This is a bad idea. Forget I said anything!"

And that was the last word in the Alexander Sibling Conversation.

A letter to myself

Dear Chantal,

I hope this letter finds you well. If memory serves, I think it does even if I tend to sugar coat some of the period of time that represents who I am sending this to.

You're a new mom! Which means you made it through eight months pregnancy. We told everyone who would listen that the baby was coming early and they looked at us like we had two heads. Take that, suckers!

I know you spent a good part of your morning somewhere between tears, fear and a genuine fixation with what is happening to your body.  I'm hoping this letter will shed some light and give you hope? I can tell you, the scars on your stomach are not going to go away, but they will fade. You will still look at them quite often and wish them away, but you won't sob. In fact, you'll earn quite a few more. I won't freak you out with how many pregnancies just yet, because I know what Kristyn was like as a baby and chances are you started your day with puke in your hair and that's enough for now.

Would you believe me if I told you that sixteen years from now you will be starting your day with a hot cup of coffee before your children even open their eyes?  You'll shower alone and style your professionally coloured and stylishly cut hair and put on clothes you probably would now call too dressy for church. You will go to work and be in your office putting out fires before your kids even pack the lunches that they themselves made. Your house will be messy and you will be behind on the laundry because time improves us steadily, but it doesn't work miracles. Besides, that's why you will have four kids.

I'll let you chew on that for a bit.

Four kids.

As I write this, all four are not only still alive, but healthy and amazing.  I can't wait for you to see what we created.  They are the four most foul smelling, ridiculously smart, hilariously exhausting, fascinating people on the planet. They yell at each other constantly and trust me, they get really mean. Even the mean part will impress you because they can be really witty and cutting to each other. I can't even begin to hurl some of the insults they've thrown out.  They are energetic and expresessive and engaging.  A couple of them are more reserved than the other two but even they are outgoing and confident to a degree twelve year old us would be jealous of.

We have done an amazing job.

When I sat down to write this, my intention was to advise you to slow down some and to work on your neurosys and worry less, but I know you will calm down some.  The more kids we had, the more me that we became.  As the years go, you will go from the worry wart who calls your obstetrician's office with every twinge to the woman who gives birth in her master bedroom one freezing cold night in 2003.  Those solid food charts on the fridge? They won't last. In fact, I'm not completely unsure that your son's first solid food wasn't something he found in the yard as we raked leaves. I would have written it was strained peas in his baby book, but truth be told, I never bought one.  We only have three on the shelf and only one is written in.

I'm not saying you or I become lazy, but what you're about to embark on requires not only guts and a firm stomach, but all of your focus and attention too. You're going to feel completely insane for a few years and I'm sorry.  You're even going to break a few of your precious cardinal parenting rules. Meaning yes, you will yell and cry and swear and your kids might even see you drink a bit too much and yell "In your face!" as she beats someone at cards. 

You are going to face some heavy stuff. Conversations you tell yourself you are prepared for now, but nothing, and I mean nothing, makes you ready for some of the things you are going to say, hear and do. I'll tell you this now, don't worry. You'll do it and do it well. I know I still have a ways to go, but I'm pretty sure the us from sixteen years in the future is writing a similar letter with the same words of encouragement.

Love,

Chantal

ps - Waking up in the morning and your first thought being "God, how long until bedtime?". Yeah, I'm sorry to say that hasn't gone away yet.

 

Eye To Eye

A month or two ago, Kristyn and I were standing next to each other, chopping vegetables for salad. I glanced over quickly as I spoke to her and noticed something. We were eye to eye. Now, Kristyn had shoes on and I didn't, but the fact remains, my thirteen year old daughter and I were standing at the same height. 

I don't know why I was so shocked. At thirteen I was the same height I am now, which is just shy of six feet tall. Kristyn now stands at just under 5'11" and I think she will grow just a bit more.

I'm stunned though because I'm just not sure when this happened. Just a few short years ago, she was a tiny toddler, nipping at my feet as I went about the business of being her mother. The contrast between those years and the present have me reeling in a way I didn't know I could.

She has long, lean and shapely legs.  I used to bite the baby fat on those legs as she laughed manically.

She has thick, gorgeous and rich coloured brown hair.  I used to put sunblock on her head because she was so bald. 

She has stunning, bright and knowing eyes. To me those eyes will always be the massive ones from her face as a baby, as she looked up at me when I fed her.

She has a wisdom that is well beyond her years. She is a refreshing combination of book smart and people savvy. I used to read to her and watch her struggle to get the words out as she had such a hard time learning to speak because of her hearing. 

She's also pleasantly (and sometimes hilariously) naive.  I used to wonder if her head was always in the clouds as we walked through our little life together. I had places to go, but she had bugs to watch and people to say hello to. She was never in a hurry, but I always was.

I've never wanted to slow down more.

She Gets All The Firsts

Kristyn will be fourteen this year and as mortified as she was, I've told you all about her starting high school in the fall.  Considering she will have to travel to the next town to go there, John and I felt it a good time to start thinking about getting her a cell phone.  She immediately attacked this idea with an excitement only shown by today's brand of teenager. We told her that we would get her one as a grade eight graduation present.

She seemed fine with that, but by mid-January, she started making noise about wanting a phone really badly. This was aptly timed with her best friend turning fourteen and getting a phone of her own.  Being the hard-nose disciplinarians we are, we stood our ground.

Only, I didn't give birth to dimwitted children. They're actually quite smart and bit crafty.

In February we received a note home that Kristyn had been chosen to head to either Carleton or Ottawa University for enrichment courses. We said yes, she enrolled and will attend in May.

Two weeks ago she said to John and I "Mommy and Daddy,  I was the only one from our school who chose physics and now I have to go to Ottawa U alone. Everyone else is going to Carleton."

I had no reply besides "That's interesting" or "Uh huh, you'll make new friends, suck it up".  You know, the usual parent stuff.

She persisted with it, and you'd really have to see this child's beautiful hazel eyes when they're trying to portray self-doubt and worry to understand what we were up against.  

"But, I'll be all alone. All day. In Ottawa. And I'm from a small town. What if something happens and I have to find a pay phone or responsible adult?"

John and I blinked at each other.  Being of a crafty sort ourselves, we knew where she was headed.

"Okay, baby." I said. "What should we do?"

She twisted in her foot, looked right up at both of us, gave us a great big hug and said "What if I got my cell phone early?"

We were kind of sunk. The kid had a point.  The idea of her being on that large campus with a small group of peers and no way of getting a hold of either of us sent me in a spiral of panic.  And there is no way in the home of Damien that I am doing something crazy like lend her my precious Blackberry!

So, last Friday, we took a very excited Kristyn to Telus and bought her first cell phone.  She was so stoked she was shaking as she picked out the pretty purple slider texting phone. She is a walking ball of unlimited texting this child.  She sent almost four hundred texts her first weekend!  I hesitate to say she comes by it honestly, but I know you know where she got this from.

And it's not her father!

Fish Fries & Marshmallow Peeps

This first long weekend of the year has been idyllic, to say the least.

We've enjoyed friends, family and food.  My mother visited on Thursday, pepped my kids up with sugar and prezzies and left on Friday morning. We fried fish on Good Friday and Lucy and I may have had some Pinot Grigio and beer.

The night was clear and warm. We sat on the deck until the wee hours.  Yes, that is my foot on the table and I don't care what you say. And yes, that is a Jimmie Johnson beer cozy. I'm not ashamed. Also, notice the low cal beer?  Don't worry, I'm keeping an eye on the size of my ass.

Easter Sunday morning was the best by far. The kids were up at the crack of dawn. Actually, Alex was up first. His screech that the Easter Bunny had stopped by was enough to wake the birds.

Kristyn and Erin stayed up late to help us hide eggs this year. I can't tell you how bittersweet it is that we've gotten to this point.  The pride they exuded this morning as they helped their younger siblings hunt for eggs (they were pretty sneaky hiders!) made me well up a bit. Of course, that didn't last long because Alex approaches Easter Egg hunts with the tenacity of a soldier in a mine field. I don't recommend getting in his way.

After the hunt, we teamed up to turn out a breakfast feast that I am still full from at almost 2pm.

Yes, that is a bowl of Cadbury Mini Eggs and a bowl of Peeps on the table. What? Is chocolate and marshmallow not a part of your Easter morning table?

*Forgive the grainy photos, I've been using my Blackberry while my beautiful, and expensive, camera is being fixed.

As I sit, the dishes are put away, the eggs are cast aside in favour of the new basketball hoop the Easter Bunny brought and a serious game of 3 on 3 is set to begin.  On this beautiful Easter Sunday I am reminded of just one thing. I am so blessed.

Greener Grass And All That

Days like today make me wish I was a stay at home mom again.

One of the kids is sick, which was aptly timed because I did not sleep well. I woke up looking for any excuse to call my boss and tell him they'd have to try and live without me for one day.  When Meg announced that her tummy and head hurt I didn't even question her or argue with John over who had to stay home from work with her.  I immediately volunteered.

When I have a day off, especially an unexpected one, I feel a weight lift. As though I've got a breathing room.  Seven surprise hours to get caught up on those things that have been nagging me. (I won't mention that I'm still in my jammies or that I had a two hour nap) .  It makes me wonder what I was whining about the ten years I did this full time.

Then I remember. My kids are not as needy as they once were.  Yes, we're crazy busy most days here, but the overall preparation is left to them.   They dress themselves, wash themselves and, blessed-be, they wipe themselves.   The older two make their own lunches as well as those of their siblings.  All four bring their clothes to the laundry room and John usually throws it in the washing machine before he leaves the house.  Even Meg, as she lays there not really all that sick, doesn't require much attention. I've been mostly offering up my services as cook, reader and tv host to her.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I want to be a stay at home mom again.   Yes, now that they've all grown to an age where my day would be pretty much like this.  I just munched on a bag of Nibs.  So housewives eating bonbons do exist - and I want to be one!

Those Years

Shortly after they kids return from Christmas vacation, I got a note inviting John, Kristyn and I to a high school parent information night.

I was so happy!

Okay, seriously. I picked my jaw up off the floor and wiped back the tears that started to flow once I realized that my daughter was starting high school.   Then I walked to the fridge and looked for some beer.

That parent night was last night.  Kristyn had already toured the school and participated in some classes thanks to a grade eight orientation day last week, so she was old hat.  John and I walked through those doors as green as any parent can get.  I was sure the principal would be on to us as soon as he saw us.

We made our way into the cafeteria and found some seats.  It wasn't that easy.  As soon as we walked in John went straight for the last row, behind the audio visual equipment.  I grabbed him by his collar and forced him closer to the front with me - Kristyn had already found her friends and distanced herself from the arguing idiots behind the Powerpoint station.

Slowly our friends and their daughters walked in (there was a serious shortage of male babies in 1996!) and seated themselves with us.  John surrounded himself with his friends and I kid you not, he got a stare from the gym teacher.  A stare that is clearly used on disruptive fourteen year olds, which as it happens, I was seated right next to.  So I gave him the look I reserve for my disruptive seven year old. 

After a blessedly brief presentation, we were split into groups and given a tour of the school. The first stop was a room where the vice-principal explained the new high school curriculum.   I was so pleased because I had a tonne of questions.  When I went to high school there were thirteen grades and none of this "destination based" course level stuff. 

And yes, I did raise my hand enthusiastically from the front row. Several times.  My husband made fun of me and called me a keener, but I wanted the principal to know just how awesome I am.  If that makes me a keener, then so be it.   She answered my questions, which she said were excellent questions (ha!) and we were able to move on, only slightly behind schedule.

We were led through the school by some very cute peer guides.  It was great to see the whole school and tour the classrooms.  I sat close to the teachers in each room, with the exception of the math and science room.  This is where the differences between John and I become clear.  He sat right up front in that room and I'm surprised he didn't bring his Big Bag Bachelor of Science (Math) with him - or at least where his big leather Carleton University jacket. I'm sure it didn't even occur to him until then.  He'll find a way to work that in at some point in the sixteen years we will have kids there.

I was struck by how easy this school makes the transition from elementary to secondary for its students.  Kristyn is going to have a great first year and it's going to be fun to watch her experience it.  She has her eye on a few clubs and many sports teams.   I can tell she is excited, but she is reserved like her father, so I only had a slight twinkle and raised eyebrow to go on.  She appreciates my enthusiasm, but I think I was getting annoying on the ride home.  I kept turning around and saying "So!!? SOOOO!??? What did you think!?"  She tolerates me like her father does. It's all I ask.

I'm excited for her because I liked high school.  It wasn't the best years of my life, but I had fun and some days I would kill to go back there.  Only I'd know what I know now of course!

Coughing Update

Remember my post about poor Meg and her coughing?  Serendipitous timing had her asthma specialist's office calling me the very next day to remind me of her upcoming bi-annual appointment.

Her lung function is so good that he thinks perhaps Meg's coughing is more allergy and post-nasal drip related than asthma.  She does have asthma, but it only flares up when she has a cold or through too much strenuous activity.  So he has taken her off the Advair and put her on Siymbicort, which is designed to help allergy affected asthmatics. We're going to see how that goes.  He has also taken her off the Singulair and added a stronger allergy medication.

So far, Meg has been sleeping beautifully at night.  He said we would see results pretty quickly and so far, we're very pleased.

Her facial eczema has cleared up and the dark circles under her eyes are gone.  She looks rested and she's more focused.  More importantly, I'm not laying awake at night worrying that she's going to cough herself to the point of vomiting.  Cause dude, cleaning up puke at 3am is fun for nobody.

A Split Second

We were in a department store.

I was looking at tee shirts and she was right next to me.

She said "Mommy, I'm just going to get a sip of water from that fountain right there."

Totally out of character in public, where everyone is plotting to steal my child, I just nodded and let her go off.

Before getting back to me, she must have caught sight of her sister who I had said could go look at earrings and shoes, in another aisle.  She must have decided it was fine to go with her.  She tells me now that she knew she was safe.  I didn't.

I looked over one shoulder and mumbled "Meg..." as I sized up a really cute ruffled shirt.

No answer.

I looked up and around and behind me and said, louder, "Meghan."

No tiny little shadow anywhere around me.

I looked over to the water fountain, down one aisle, down another.  I ran into the washrooms, to where they keep the purses and belts and jewelery.  She was not in any of those places.  I started to get frantic. I wondered if perhaps as she was sipping her water someone noticed she was alone and just scooped her up.   Or, maybe she had come back to where I had been and was gone and now she was running frantic like I was?

With my heart pounding, my head whirling and my hands shaking, I went back to the tee shirts and still, no Meg.

How I managed to say "Excuse me?" to a clerk is beyond me.

The clerk could see I was upset so she looked a little panicked.

"Have you seen a little girl. She is wearing a black coat, brown skirt and red tights.  She has brown hair and brown eyes and she coughs a lot. You can hear her cough if you listen! Can you page her? Please page Meghan to come back here.  She won't know where here is, but at least you can let her  know I'm looking for her."

The tiny little clerk didn't freak, but she ran from me.  I totally forgot they have procedure for stuff like this - procedures where they shut everything down.  But I thought "Screw it. Find me my kid!"

As she talked to a manager I started to run.  I ran and I yelled and I didn't care who thought I was nuts.  I had on a wool turtleneck and my whole upper body was stinging and itching with sweat from my panic. 

I stopped suddenly.  And I knew it was her. Just like I had told the clerk, if you listened, you could hear her cough.  I heard her cough.  It was the best sound in the entire world.

There she was. Smiling and laughing with her big sister in the pet department. So not a cool place for them to be without me knowing, but they won't do it again.  It was better than where she could have been.  At that point, she could have been buying a fish for all I cared.

I scooped her tiny little body up and didn't even have the heart to scold her or her sister.  We found the clerk, thanked her and assured the manager that we were okay.

I never, ever, want to relive those minutes where I didn't know where she was. I know she's not the first to do this. Hell, I did it to my mother!  Still, not knowing where your child could be?  Killer. Awful. Complete and total kick you in the gut pain.

Wine waits me now. Well deserved I think.

The winter is coughing season

From October to May my poor Meghan suffers.  She's had asthma forever and it drives her nuts.  During the summer months, she is pretty much okay unless she gets a cold or her allergies are really bad. So that means she can count on a pretty good July.  Poor kid. 

She gets ridiculous red patches of skin around her mouth and red sores around her nose.

Last year she was in class, coughing her usual cough, when another teacher came in to ask Meg's teacher a question.  She heard her cough and said "Whoo! Who has that big cough?" 

And some little brat said "It's Meghan. It's always Meghan!"

She was humiliated.  Can you imagine carrying to weight of all that coughing along with the idea that it disrupts everyone too?  We try to be patient at home, but even here, where she's safe there are times where it grates on our nerves. I can't even imagine her nerves!  She lays in her bed coughing and I know she's not sleeping well.

For years she was on Flovent and Ventolin.  Then we added Singulair. Then switched her from Flovent to Advair.  We saw an improvement last winter, she only got pneumonia once versus the four times the year before.  So far this year though, she's really struggling.  I don't know what we're going to do.

A good friend is exploring food sensitivities for her daughter who has similar issues and I'm wondering if we need to start exploring this sort of avenue?  She hasn't grown much over the last year and it's starting to affect her behavior.  She's edgy, fidgety and less focused - and trust me this kid is usually the epitome of focus!

Do you have experience with this?  Have you tried naturopaths or other alternative methods? What about traditional medicine? Is there something we should let her allergist know?