Two weeks of random

Ahhhhh. Holiday.

Now granted, as I said, we'll be spending a fair portion of this holiday sitting around in our house sans preschooler, and not jet-setting off to exotic locations, but still. There will be friends and family and relaxation and good food (since The Man will be cooking while we're both off work and YAY!) and for me that beats out Bora Bora every time.

:)

We're on day two of the holiday and despite the torrential rain of last night, it's decided to clear up this morning and be sunny. The only thing we have to do today is sweep the entirety of the daycare yard. This is no mean feat; it took the two of us adults a good two hours to do it last time. Such are the joys of parent participation daycare. I could be the one in charge of saving popsicle sticks and old egg cartons, but nope. But it's exercise and the rain last night, despite ruining everyone's grand summer plans, has made it cooler. Given it was supposed to be 30 today and we were going to do physical labour in the hot sun ... I am terribly grateful.

We got The Boy a haircut yesterday. It didn't go well, there was much flinching and grousing and whining despite me shoving fruit bears into his mouth as fast as possible. He looks like a little man now. He's getting taller and losing those baby proportions, and noticeably, as one of the friends said last night, growing and changing at a rapid rate. He's taller and bigger and his vocabulary has increased and the fluidity of his language is better and all told he's just growing like a weed. And still tells me in bed at night that he needs me close by all the time. That he loves me. And when I pick him up, he wraps his little arms around my neck and holds me close.

I know that in future he won't want me to be his favourite person. He won't look to me to make it all better. But I hope that he'll still want to hug me and hold me close on occasion. And I know I'll always look at him and be proud.

And now I'm off to hang the laundry out and hope that the rain doesn't start pouring down again. At least in this part of the city the rain isn't likely to dissolve our clothes from the pollution.

July 25

Today was the 40th anniversary of our daycare, and there was a huge block party.

Tonight is also the "CElebration of LIght" with fireworks in downtown that is usually attended by 100,000 people or more.

Tonight is also the local "Illuminaries" lantern festival at a local park.

Tonight is also, as I've mentioned, our bbq.

*******

Tonight is also the first time it has rained in weeks. And not just rain, might I add. THUNDER and LIGHTENING and TORRENTIAL RAIN.

Excellent.

BBQ

Today we are hosting a bunch of guys from The Man's work for a BBQ. One of them is a co-op student. There are two guys who were in elementary school the year I graduated high school.

I feel ancient.

Small world ...

So the other week I bit the bullet, social phobe that I am, and approached a new (to me -- her kid's been there a while!) mom in the daycare about a playdate. She accepted with alacrity, and we made plans over email to have her and her son, a year older than mine, come to our house this morning for a short while. I was a little nervous about this .. I don't know her well, I don't know her son, and my son has been ... difficult, lately. I hoped it would go well. I knew that with people I know well, my son acting poorly wouldn't be a problem, but first impressions ... well, you know.

They arrived at twenty minutes before the appointed time, while I was still in my nightgown. First impression = AWESOME. We had to send them back around the block.

(And you all wonder why I feel socially awkward. Oh, I know, when someone says 10am and you arrive at 9:40, you have to expect that they won't be ready, and the arriver should probably be the one feeling awkward, but I feel like these kinds of things always happen to me, and I really should have been, you know, DRESSED or something.

Moving on.)

So the playdate went reasonably well. My kid is a tad more immature than hers, so while he (her son) was all playing with the toys and looking at the books like a good child, mine was running about like someone had fed him speed for breakfast (which I hadn't, incidentally). So I'm not sure if they will want to reciprocate, but ... meh. You know, I'm just glad I did it for me.

But they did play very well in The Boy's room for some time, so she and I did small talk for some time, during which time she mentions that her husband had also grown up in Victoria. And then we realized he went to the same high school I did. Four years ahead of me, we figure, but then she says ... hey, but I bet you know his sister!

Uhm. Yeah. I did in fact know his sister. I went to school with her for six years, in fact. We were in the same accelerated program, in fact. We used to, on occasion, RIDE THE BUS TOGETHER. (This is remarkable because it was a city bus, not a school bus ... a lot more chance involved.)

Good Lord.

You know, I suppose it's not all that amazing. There are tons of ex-Victorians living in this city. But still. To find someone living two blocks from me who has a child the same age as mine and who grew up blocks from me and who I know, tangentally?

Still a little weird.

Of superheroes and star wars

A year or so ago, we introduced our son to Spiderman. Oh, not the shows or (goodness!) the movies. The theme song. Easily found on YouTube, by the way. And we taught our two year old to sing it, which we thought was very cute. He knew the whole thing, beginning to end, and would sing it for us. We loved it.

We're geeks, I know.

Superheroes have been making a regular appearance here. I don't know what it is -- it's partly just that he's a boy, and they appeal. It's partly his older cousin who likes them and who hands down shirts and shoes with characters on them. It's partly the new daycare which has increased his cultural knowledge so much he now knows the name of the black spiderman, which of course has never made an appearance in this house in his knowledge. Until now, of course.

Spiderman and Batman are our favourites, apparently. I don't know where Superman fits in -- apparently he doesn't have the cache of the other two, since he is pooh-poohed. However, we aren't discriminatory -- this afternoon while playing Batman / Spiderman we welcome to our little clique SuperWhy, who is the superhero with the Power to Read! (Thanks PBS!) We take all kinds.

I think perhaps it is because of Superman's first "name". "Batman turns into a bat." I was told the other day. "Spiderman turns into a spider". And ... "Superman just turns into a super." Which isn't a thing, after all. At least, not something small and creepy.

The other day I was conversing with a colleague who mentioned that her son once received a cape as a birthday present that had Batman on one side and Spiderman on the other and -- you can tell I'm the mom of a boy obsessed -- my eyes actually lit up the way they used to when someone mentioned a shoe sale. Her son has grown tired of it and too old and we are now the proud owners of this cape -- so proud that we wore it to daycare on Friday and shared it with all our friends. And wore it out of the house today to Stanley Park. And in the car. And this afternoon in the backyard.

Another colleague saw it, and her own eyes also lit up, being the mom of not one but two small boys. She then confessed that her older son, heading to kindergarten this fall, is much more of a Star Wars fan. "Oh!" I said, interested. "So how old was he when you let him watch the movie?" Because we've been debating. Star Wars is part of our own childhood, which we want to share with our child, and we think three is too early. But five? Is five too early?

"He's never seen it." she said. It's all from daycare. This explains a lot. Like why I was creeping about my backyard earlier today pretending to be Venom.

Man, am I living the life, huh?

Aftermath

Yesterday there were only four of us in the office -- vacation time -- and I spent time in my office with a closed door with two of them, one of them a storm of tears. I think that the planets have aligned so that I am just a magnet for emotional distress these days.

I went for a walk at lunch with one of those colleagues, and I asked her about her sweet and sensitive but emotionally volatile son who is almost five.

"Oh yeah," she said. "Tantrums like that are a regular feature at our house. They're less frequent now and last less long, but definitely. A regular feature."

Knowing that her child, heading into kindergarten, is perfectly socially adjusted and normal, I felt enormously better about my own child's emotional well being.

I do have a tendency to overreact about these things.

Ironically when I dropped off The Kid at daycare yesterday morning, they remarked that he'd had such a GREAT day the day before. So I guess it was just all saved up for me.

Anyway. We shall not dwell on this issue longer. Today it's gorgeous and we're off to the little train in the park ... I think. Providing we can battle our way through the tourists.

Tantrumy

This afternoon before I left work I called and ordered Thai food from our local pick up place. They don't deliver. I mentioned it to The Boy who was nonplussed ("I don't WANT Thai food") but seemed fine. We got there. I managed to find parking next to the beach which was no small feat in a crowded city on a hot summer day. We got the food. He said he wanted to sit in the restaurant and eat. I said no, we had to go home.

And then I entered the realm of insanity.

He cried. He screamed. He kicked. He flailed on the ground. He ran away from me. I ended up carting him back to the car, half a block, by his arms, shutting him in the car and locking it, and going back for the sandals he kicked off on the way. I thought to myself that I would sit in the car until he calmed down and then drive home.

But the car was filled with more screaming. Attacking of the parent. Attempts to bite, kick, claw, and then climb out of the car. Once through the sunroof. (Which I had opened in an attempt to prevent us from roasting in the sun and heat.)

He didn't calm down for half an hour, and then when I attempted to get him back into his seat, thinking he was mostly calm, there was more screaming. I had to hold him down to get him into the seat, and I didn't get him strapped in properly and he got out half way home and I just kept driving.

With my child loose in the car.

I am officially pinning on my "World's Worst Mother" badge.

Not for the tantrum. For the driving with an unsecured child. For not being in control enough to get him into the seat.

There's a part of me that's really worried about this. First the hitting at daycare, then the more aggressive behaviour with me and The Man, and now this. The anger of this child is actually scary. And it's getting worse. And it's horrible. He's been clearly more upset at home recently, clearly more prone to anger and upset, with a hair-trigger reaction to anything negative that is wearing on my patience.

And then there's part of me that realizes that he's three, and this just happens. And a single bad tantrum with some episodes of age-appropriate undesirable behaviour is hardly a behavioural problem. The fact that it's been unremarkable at daycare recently at least seems to indicate that he's getting it. I know that he's still acting up a little here and there, because if I ask they tell me, but clearly it's nothing out of the ordinary because they don't mention it unless I ask.

It's a big transition for him, from 12 kids to 24. It's overwhelming, the number of children. I'm working more, so he's been going every day instead of two days with a break and then two more days, and that's clearly hard on him. And he's not emotionally mature enough to remove himself from the other kids when he feels overwhelmed and play by himself for a little while, and so by the end of the day he's emotionally just worn out.

I guess the only real problem that remains is that I just don't know how to help him. I'm sure that I would have found full time daycare too much at his age too. And while he's a smart kid, I can only talk to him so much about taking a break from the other kids before he gets too overwhelmed -- there's such a huge difference between talking and acting, at this age, especially when the talking by me is so removed from the situation at the daycare.

I suppose that so far this evening there hasn't been a word of protest against bedtime should be a good sign. And I also suppose that this too, like every thing else in life, shall pass and get better and change.

But I sure as hell won't be getting Thai food again any time soon.

Vacation time

I booked time off work yesterday -- days at the end of July and the beginning of August. I'm looking forward to this so much that I've already gone ahead and booked a massage and a haircut, and I think there will be a pedicure in there as well.

As a matter of practicality, I've also booked in two of the cats for appointments, long overdue. I will probably get someone in to fix the dishwasher too, since it's on its last legs.

I have a feeling that this will be less a vacation than a time to catch up on things.

Sigh.

A new perspective on things

I'm emailing today with a friends of mine. He's childless, lives with a girlfriend. I hadn't heard from him in a while, and it turns out he'd been on vacation for two weeks. So I ask what he's been doing, and he enthuses about how much FUN it was, and how they did a new FUN thing every day and how GREAT it was and how bummed he is to be back at work.

And I'm intrigued. Because I have no idea what fun looks like to a childfree person any more, and I ask: more details, please. Just what are these fun activities??

And he says:

* visited parents

* went hiking

* went swimming

* went kite flying

* picnicked in the park

* went to the beach

* went to the petting zoo

* went to local Vancouver museums / attractions

And I thought ... this is your vacation? This is what The Man and I do every weekend because we need SOMETHING to keep this child busy and entertained. Seriously, we went kite flying three weeks ago; parks are a weekly (or more) activity, as are beaches. Picnicking is usual just because we eat so often. Swimming at the pool is a regular thing, and GOD KNOWS we visit my parents a lot because THEY BABYSIT.

And then I think: those are the types of things that as a childfree person I thought were fun. And then I think: what the heck did I DO when I didn't have a kid, because I certainly wasn't doing those things all the time, because they were a relative novelty.

Perhaps it is now that I do them all the time that they aren't novel, just every day activities with a kid. Perhaps it is a good thing that I'm now living life more than ever before, because I have a kid who wants to get out! and do things! and experience things! Maybe this is what's meant by living life over with a child, seeing things his or her way, and how your life is enriched with meaning once you become a parent because you are living so much more than before.

......

And perhaps it's also why, when The Man and I have vacation days coming up, we'll be taking The Boy to daycare and then sitting motionless on the couch for eight hours a day.

Parenting in a padded society

I'm an overprotective parent. I admit it, totally. I follow behind my child, hands at the ready, protecting him from falls, tripping, cars, adults, and mean children. I protect him unnecessarily from friendly dogs, from trees he might collide with, tiny twigs he might trip over. I'm getting better at it, although it may not be obvious from watching. At the playground or at the beach, he can get as much as 20 or even 30 feet before I get nervous, as opposed to the 10 feet of last year, and the two feet of before that.

And yet the strange thing is that I remember the best days of my childhood being those when my parents were no where in sight. Being out in my backyard or the next door vacant lot with some of the kids from around the neighbourhood. I don't remember my mother ever playing with me, and for the most part, I don't remember wanting her to.

I don't ever remember venturing very far -- my mother was probably always within yelling distance, or if she wasn't, another adult was. The farthest I went was walking to school, which I did without an adult from kindergarten onwards. Most of the time with other kids; some times alone.

It's still more freedom than my child has, more than he'll probably ever have, until he's a teenager and the wonder of adventuring through the neighbourhood is long lost.

It's just a fact of life these days. I don't know how I might circumvent it, since anyone these days who lets their child have the freedoms that were common in the 1970s gets lambasted for it. Even if I did let The Boy out to play on his own, who the heck would he play with? No one else is allowed to randomly wander the neighbourhood.

So this article was very interesting. One of the things I did most as a child was curl up with a good book; it never occurred to me that my child, not used to adventuring, might lose the love of doing so within a book if he was never able to do so on his own.

I'm not sure the situation is as dire as he notes but it's food for thought anyway. And while I don't think I'm going to let my kid randomly wander around on his own any time soon, maybe I'll hover a little further away at the playground next time.

You know, six feet away rather than within catching distance.

Update

It's been many days since I was informed of any ill behaviour on the part of my child at daycare. In fact, the other day on the way home he informed me that he had been "respectful" at daycare. I have no idea what this means, although I dare to interpret it as a good thing -- I did ask, of course, and he said something about how he didn't hit or push anyone today. I made a big deal of this and mentioned how proud I was etc. etc. and am very glad I didn't call in a child psychologist to deal with my suddenly aggressive and out of control child when in fact this was a (very) temporary issue.

**************

Today it is bright and sunny and I feel terribly virtuous that I already have a load of laundry hanging outside (mostly because I had three bundles of laundry yesterday from daycare, because there was so much dirty water play outside, so I just threw it all into the washer when I got home last night). It's close to dry, and it's only 9:30. The next one is in the washer, the temperature is increasing, and we have nothing to do today beyond enjoying ourselves. Tomorrow is the day we get ready for the week; today is the day for adventures and books and playing in the yard. And maybe a picnic, with kite flying. The possibilities are endless.

Some times, you just have to laugh

I have a three year old. I've mentioned this, lo, once or twice before. Any person out there familiar with three year olds will realize that one of the favourite tactics of the three year old is the "I didn't hear you" tactic.

And it works, of course. I HATE being ignored by my child.

So taking a cue from my sister, I introduced the concept of teasing my child about his "listening ears". When he's not listening, for instance, going over and checking to see where his listening ears are, and making sure he has them on. At other times, just saying "put on your listening ears!" or "Where are you listening ears?" It's perhaps a little heavy handed, but it's been working.

Until this evening.

When my child, who was being naughty, was asked where his listening ears were. And he dutifully mimed putting them on, and then immediately mimed it again. "I'm putting on my naughty ears" he said. "When I'm done with these, I'll put my listening ears back on."

So much for that technique. Any new suggestions?

Addendum

Actually I did think that the most interesting part of the article, linked below, was this quote:

If a mother truly wants to be radical, she adds, "get your guy to do 50 per cent of the housework."

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Seems really very inappropriate, really. Because let's face it: any women who can afford to spend a night at the bar with her friends? Clearly has someone at home holding down the fort.

Huh

So this article intrigued me.

The whole "drinking while mommying" thing has really hit the proverbial fan these days, and I'm not sure what to think of it. I'm not the type of person who really enjoys evenings like that -- even in university, my "hard drinking" days, I would rather hang out with a few friends and play music / eat dinner / watch movies while drinking that head out to a bar with a bunch of people. I did that too, but I much prefer a quieter intimacy. So it comes as no surprise whatsoever to me that I also don't enjoy that as an older adult. My preferred method of relaxation is a book and some alone time; some knitting and a good movie.

On occasion, though, I do drink. I like having an open bottle of wine around the house, and I do have a glass every now and then. I'm a very cheap date; I can drink about a glass a night with a meal and that's enough for me. I can honestly say that while I might joke about needing two, I never have done so (at least, not for years). I just don't want to. I only have a glass once a week, sometimes twice, on average.

So I don't get the whole "going out to drink to get away from the kids and reclaim who I am" thing. It wouldn't work for me, on a number of levels.

What I DO get is the urge to have some time to yourself, doing what you used to do before you had kids, not for reliving your youth, just because you LIKE to. I mean, no one would suggest to me that I am reliving my youth when I kick back with a good novel for an afternoon. Maybe those women really liked hanging out with their friends in bars in university / post high school / as young single people. That's what they did to relax. And there's nothing wrong with that.

And writing an article about that makes about as much sense as one saying "Mother read book all weekend leaving child in back yard to play in sandbox!"

Now, leaving aside the marginal cases where the mother is getting drunk and neglecting her child (or reading her book to the extent of all else and neglecting her child, which is possible, I suppose), let's just take a step back and realize that these articles? are ridiculous.

They are part and parcel of the redefinition of motherhood that is currently going on. They are part and parcel of the cult of the perfect mother, the cult that we apparently all should join and should completely abandon every last iota of our own personalities, hopes, dreams, desires, and enjoyments while we pour every last molecule of our being into our children and our homes and to a lesser extent, our partners. (I'm not suggesting our partners demand this of us; but there is still a culture out there that suggests that this is actually desirable -- witness The Man's last boss, who had a SAHW and who suggested to The Man, when he wanted to leave work at a perfectly reasonable hour to go home and be with his family, that I quit my job so that he could focus on his. This was 2007, people, not 1950. WHO KNEW.)

And you know, there's just nothing wrong, nor even newsworthy, about a group of women who take a break from bring a mom and a wife and a employee every once in a while and go blow off steam in a bar. That's their choice. That one choice alone does not at all mean that they are not excellent, attentive mothers who love their husbands and hold down a good job. All it means about them is that's how they relax.

We all deserve the time to relax, however that is needed.

Even mothers. Perhaps especially mothers. What is this media spotlight on mothers who drink? Yeah, sure, I know, there were a few -- a very few! -- cases of mothers out there who obviously drank too much while in the public eye. And now we're all under the microscope. The vast majority of mothers who blow off steam with a drink are just doing it because they like it, that's how they relax, that's who there are. It's nothing more than that.

It seems so much more sinister, though, that the media jumps on it. Not just here, I've seen it in other places. Women drinking! While mothering! How dare they! How dare they take some enjoyment in their lives while mothering! At a backyard barbeque where a man has a beer and the woman has a martini, guess who gets lambasted the next day.

There are so many issues here, so many problems and sadnesses and sentences that start with "yeah, but". I know that excessive drinking ruins lives. I know that child neglect, due to any circumstances, is a real problem. But as a child who grew up with parents who had a drink most nights, and who still do, let me just note that drinking in and of itself can be as harmless a pastime as reading a book. It's meaningless, when, like everything else in life should be, it's done in moderation. Everything in moderation, people -- this is the real key to life.

And more to the point, we need permission -- nay, we don't need permission -- we just need to quietly sit down and take what is rightly ours: the right to take time off from a job that is 24 hours, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. How we do that is our own business.

So stop with the drinking mommies. It's ridiculous. If they were eight childfree women in their thirties at a bar, no one would care. This is mommy bashing, make no mistake about it. They deserve that time as much as any one else. And the media needs to go the hell away and let them get on with it.

A few steps forward ...

I went to the daycare this afternoon and related my child's wonderful step forward in the hitting and cognitive comprehension of same, and was SO pleased with myself but clearly should have done so this morning since they were not, after today, prepared to believe that he had completely turned over a new leaf, the light gone on in his wee head, into completely angelic behaviour.

And neither had I, but a girl can dream.

They let me know that this morning my child had been playing with another kid, running around and laughing and there was some tapping. And then the play got a little more rough, and they intervened before anyone could cry foul and sat down and explained the situation and showed The Boy how tapping to get someone else to play with him was much less effective and pleasant than simply saying ... hey, wanna play with me?

A certain amount of social awkwardness is alas encoded in my kid's genes.

So I was pleased to hear that -- that they are watching him closely so no one gets hurt and he doesn't misbehave to the point where there must be consequences, that they are helping him figure out what he wants to communicate and then he does so. It's all good, right? It's a learning process. She said she thought he really got it, and some repetition of the situation over the coming days will really help. So hooray! He's taking it in, he's processing, he's testing, he's being helped, it will all get better!

Right?

And then at lunch he took his cup of water and emptied it over another kid's head. And then lied about the fact that the same kid had done the same to his own (totally dry) head.

Sigh.

Frustrated

The newest book from a favoured author of mine came out June 24. Today I woke up and decided I wanted to go and buy it, in hardcover. And so over the course of this morning I have visited or called three -- 3! -- locally owned and operated bookstores, including the nearby sci-fi / fantasy specialty store. None of them have it.

The Chapters four blocks from here has fifteen copies. I don't need to call ahead, I just need to go and buy it. It'll be cheaper there than at the other places.

I want to support local businesses. I want to support especially local, small bookstores. But it's unbelievably frustrating that not a single place has it in stock, even the place that specializes in that exact genre. I give up! I give up, I am going to go and buy it at Chapters.

Sigh.

Other notes

Whether or not the time off from daycare and the trip to the beach and treats with mom did anything at all ... this morning The Boy himself brought up the pushing at daycare -- first that someone did it to him (which I'm sure is true -- it does happen) and then that he *didn't* do it (which I know is not true), and then, once I reacted calmly and non judgementally, revealed that he did push too. And we discussed, as the daycare says, that this is a "mistake" and we all make mistakes, but it's important to try not to do so, and if you do, to say sorry afterwards.

Who knows what will happen next, but I'm glad it's percolating around in his little brain, glad that he's considering things, glad that he brought it up with me to talk about it.

I'll hold off on my "Worst Mom" crown for a while yet.

Happy Canada Day!

One of the first things that The Boy really loved to read was his atlas. We had a very small discount atlas that I picked up at some discount store years ago; it had its inaccuracies and the borders weren't neatly drawn, but he loved it and at 21 months old would carry it around and call it his "Boomby" (the name of the publisher was "Bloomsbury"). It was that atlas I took on the plane with us to Alberta that Christmas, so he could exclaim over the countries of Africa and the page called "Index to Maps" that he loved so much. It filled the hour and a half he sat on my lap which was of course a God send.

Taking advantage of this, we would throw in a little patriotism / education with each viewing, and before long he was able to pick out North America / Canada on the map. Every single time we would take out the book -- which is *our* country, where do *we* live, etc. etc. We pointed out to him which flag was Canada's, and he greatly impressed his grandmother six months ago by showing her which flag was Canada's from a row of them outside a building, and telling her proudly that *he* was Canadian.

The Boy now has three atlases (tell people what he's in to, get more of them ... but I do think that three is slightly overkill) and still enjoys looking at them. And we still do the repetition of our place in the world. I am proud of this country and our place in the world -- for me it was only after almost 15 years of wandering and searching that I finally accepted the fact that I was a west coast Canadian girl at heart, no matter how many other personas I tried on which didn't quite fit. And I want to try and express that to my son. He can wander as far as he needs to -- and in fact I will encourage him to do so -- but this is where he came from, this is where he began, and as such it will always be a part of him, big or small.

So this morning, I thought we'd continue on with the edumacation, and once I remembered myself that I was off work for an actual reason, I said to him -- hey! Guess what! Today is a special day! A very special day! It's CANADA DAY!!!

He was extremely excited. There was jumping and whirling and general merriment. His face lit up, and he whirled around and said to his dad making breakfast in the kitchen -- daddy! guess what! it's Canada Day! it's OUR DAY! It's a DAY FOR US!

Indeed.

Happy Canada Day to you all, even those of you who aren't Canadian. We're inclusive like that.