Sunday, October 31

The End of The Line

I try hard to be a good mother, but I usually come up short. Or, more accurately, all my best plans are better in theory than in practice. And sometimes, I am just plain tired. But I do my best.

I have a lot of role models in my neighbourhood. There's Super Mom. The name says it all. She's the one who built a fence when she was nine months pregnant. She takes her three boys out every day so they can have rich and fulfilling lives. When things are slow, she'll take the boys outside for a game of road hockey. She doesn't sit on her front step and chat on the phone while her kids are playing. She actually plays with them! Pretty super, eh?

Then there's the Librarian. She goes for a jog every morning at 6am. I wave at her as she goes by. She rides her bike to work. She takes her kids to the local swimming pool, and walks there. She has beautiful gardens, and lovely ivy climbing up the side of her house. She probably serves her kids healthy meals. I really like her, but I don't measure up.

Emilie isn't perfect, but she tries to be. She has such a good heart, and loves children. All children. She dreams up wonderful games and crafts for the children. She has FOUR HOUR long birthday parties. She decorates the exterior AND the interior of her house for every holiday. How can I keep up with her?

Elise is more my speed. I like her a lot. Her house is attached to mine (we live in semis). Every couple of months, one of us will say "Can you hear us through the walls?". What we mean to say is "Can you hear me screaming at the children through the walls?". Well, that's what I mean to say. Elise is more relaxed when it comes to parenting than I am. She helps calm me down. She reassures me that my little angels will survive elementary school (but has made no promises that I will). She has physically restrained me when Sarah was climbing a rock wall at the park, saying "Let her try. She can do it!". And I appreciate that.

As wonderful as all the ladies in my neighbourhood are, they are out of my league. I admire them, and they feel sorry for me (I'm sure!). They seem to do things sooooo much better than I do. For instance, I am quite sure that none of them have sprayed their smelly kids with Febreeze instead of giving them a bath. I only know one other person who may have.

That's right, I wouldn't be surprised if Lisa sprayed her kids with Febreeze.

Anyway, this morning, there was a light dusting of snow. My children wanted to play in it before we left for dance class at 9am. I thought, "Here's my chance to shine!". Dan and I got all the kids fed, dressed, and outside, with plenty of time for play...and for pictures!

I must confess, I was pleased with myself. I was pleased that I took the kids out. I was pleased that (for once!) I had snow boots before the snow fell. For once, I got to be Super Mum! And it totally does not detract from my superness that I lied to the children and told them that the snow was the wrong type for making snowmen.

On the way to dance class, we drove past the Librarian's house. She was out with her kids. They had already built two snowmen. She was smiling at her children. Sigh. I returned to my rightful position at the bottom of the heap.

This afternoon, I emailed Lisa a couple of the snaps I took of the kids out in the snow and carving pumpkins. This was her response:

These pictures are priceless...

We are also just carving the pumpkins now...however the kids are acting up, the sink pipe in the kitchen broke and flooded my one is dressed for the day, we are just finishing brunch (late because of the flood) and we are expecting one of Trystan's school friends to go trick or treating with...oh did I mention that Kelly borrowed my vacuum and hasn't returned it yet so my floors are also filthy gross...not exactly a day for pictures over here...just sent the kids to their room to play; hopefully, Kelly will return the vacuum soon and I am just about to clean...all in all a very crappy stat to my favorite holiday...this year sucks...I hope tonight is better but I do not anticipate it will be...lets hope I at least get pictures...haven't had Halloween pics since Trystan was 3! *gasp*

Great pics though...hope the girls enjoy trick or treating

And that is why she's my best friend. She and I, together, are here at the back. Snickering.

Friday, October 29

My Philosophy

I am a nice person. Kind. Considerate. Compassionate. Sweet. I try to be good to small children and the elderly. I give to homeless people at every opportunity (one even knows me by name and asks after the children!). I believe in non-violence. I have always admired brains over brawn. I'm a "Use your voice, not your fists" kinda girl...until I had children.

I have three daughters. Girly girls. Delicate little things.

They are nothing like me. This has caused me a great deal of anxiety. I don't want my girls to be pushed around. I don't want their good-nature to be abused. I want them to be strong. To be loud. To fear no one. I want them to be better than I ever was.

So, there's this demon-child in the kindergarten class with the twinnies. We'll call her Chantal (because in the third grade I hated Chantal sooooo much!). Chantal has decided that she just loves my little girls. So much that she feels compelled to pick them up and hug them, then drop them unceremoniously to the ground. I know she does this because
  1. Katie told me
  2. Bethie told me
  3. Dan saw it in action (but thought it looked like great fun and DID NOT intervene)
Katie and Bethie enjoy the hugs,  but are upset about bouncing off the pavement afterwards. At first, they tried running away from Chantal. But Chantal would chase after them. Then they told Chantal that they didn't want to be hugged anymore, but Chantal refused to cease and desist. The twins then reported Chantal's behaviour to TWO teachers. Those teachers were unable to stop the "love fest". Katie and Bethie decided to pull out the big guns: they told me.


Yup, I went off like a rocket. How dare Chantal put her hands on my children!

The twinnies and I had a little chat. We talked about respect. We talked about appropriate behaviour. We talked about soliciting help. We talked about how they are not allowed to play with children who hurt them.

Then we talked about the facts of life.

Here are my facts:
  1. Let people know that their behaviour or words hurt you
  2. Give them a chance to correct the situation
  3. If that doesn't work, appeal to a higher authority
  4. If that doesn't work, take care of the situation yourself (do it hard and fast)
  5. Remember, there are TWO of you. Always help your sister. There is power in numbers.
I feel that my children were not put on this Earth to be terrorized.They can learn it now, or they can learn it when they are 30. The easy way, or the hard way. Either way, it will end! And that is what I included in the note that I sent to school.

I received no response from the teacher.

I am beside myself. Fixated. Obsessed. Enraged.

The next time something like this happens, I will not send a note.

The teacher can respond, or not, to my face.

Wednesday, October 27

The Pumpkin

I know you've been waiting, holding your breath, wondering if Katie or Bethie won a painted pumpkin in the raffle. Well, the wait is over!

The kinder teacher drew five names. After the fourth name, Bethie started praying, "God, please let me or Katie win a pumpkin. PLEASE, GOD!". We all know that Bethie has a direct line to God's ear (freakishly so!). Like always, her pray was answered! The fifth name chosen was Katie's!

The twins were thrilled! Upon arriving home from school, they demanded that I rush to the school and pick up their pumpkin. I refused. This sounded, to me at least, like a job for their father!

This morning, Dan went to the school to pick up the pumpkin. He arrived home with it, and I rushed to see this wonderful spectacle. I was sure that it would be spectacular! Full of colour! Awe inspiring! A reflection of the collective artistic abilities of 23 five year olds!

Instead, this is what I saw:

Blah. Some purple paint slapped on to a pumpkin. Where's the "fancy" in that?

At least it matches my front door...

Tuesday, October 26

Notes Home

Mornings are good for me. For the most part, I am home alone to do whatever makes me happy. Usually, I need an hour or so to send out emails and muck about on the Internet. Then I will read my book for a couple of hours. The panic comes about 15 minutes before I have to pick up Sarah from daycare. I cram a couple of hours of work into that 15 minutes so it looks like I've had a super hard day.

(Dan, I'm kidding. I just said that to be amusing. Really, I do spend my mornings cleaning and dreaming up lovely ways to amuse our beautiful daughters. And oh how it tires me. I need to go out tonight to re-energize!)

Anyway, my day starts getting stressful at about 3:10. My stomach goes into knots. I know what is coming. Ten minutes later, the school bus comes into sight. Big sigh. I have to face the music. And it ain't pretty.

My daughters get off the school bus, smiling and full of cheer. They are so excited to tell me about their day. But all I can hear is the sound of my heart racing. All I can focus on is getting into their school bags...which they have conveniently dropped on the driveway for me to pick-up.

Once inside, I retrieve their agendas and flip to the plastic letter holder in the back. This is where the teacher puts her little notes. Most days it has at least one note in it. And I sigh.

The notes aren't saying that my children are bad...or good. They don't even specifically mention my children. These are letters from the school asking for money! Lots and lots of money.

Brace yourselves! Here's a totally on topic rant!

The following list are the examples that I can think of off the top of my head:

School supplies...$170
Terry Fox Run (min) donation...$30
Scholastic books (first time)...$12
Scholastic books (2nd time)...$6
Pizza money...$28
Dance class...$120
Martial Arts...$120
Violin lessons...$120
School fair...$20
Movie Night...$8
School dance...$10
Saunder's Farm trip...$26

(Please note that this list is the combined costs, as I have two daughters enrolled in the school)

See why I get nervous?! The girls have been going to school for less than 2 months. By the end of the year, we are going to absolutely broke! The school doesn't care, they hype the children up so they come home announcing that they would be absolutely devastated if they were unable to participate. Thanks. The school holds me hostage. Pay up or they will break the hearts of my children!

Do you want to know which fancy, schmancy private school I send my children to? I don't! They go to the local public school!

Okay, back to the point of the story. The agendas. Yesterday, I opened the agendas and found a little note. I groaned (out loud) as I wondered how much this note would set me back. It turns out that the kindergarten class had painted five pumpkins and they were going to do a draw to see who could take them home. No purchase necessary! After I recovered from my shock--induced heart attack, Dan and I did a little jig in the kitchen. At last we had received some form of communication from the school which did not require a mad dash to the ATM!

The children were excited, too. Bethie and Katie just knew that they were going to win a pumpkin. Dan and I tried to explain that they might not win. They refused to acknowledge that possibility. I asked them what was going to happen if they didn't win? Bethie looked at me and announced that she would pitch a fit. And then I said a word that I probably shouldn't have said in front of the children because I can see how this is going to end...and it ain't pretty!

So off they went to school today, eagerly awaiting the results from the draw. I am sitting here at home wishing that the teacher would have taken the pumpkins back to her own house, or given them to the French teacher as a "Thank You" from the class, or dropped them off the roof of the school to show the kinders that "this is your brain on drugs. Any questions?" (my second favourite commercial of all time!). Instead, I sit and wait. Waiting for the results of the kindergarten draw. Knowing that the draw will decided if we have a good week or a bad week. AHHHH!

Wednesday, October 20

My Man

I just read Bibliomama's blog, and have been inspired by her post "A Real Man?". Like, Bibliomama, I do not put much stock in gifts and flowers (although a lump of chocolate is very much appreciated!). Any fool can produce a gift, but a real man does so much more.

A real man gets up at 5:30am everyday, and goes to work. When he arrives home, he overlooks the mess and the chaos, and makes sure that he keeps up the facade that his wife has had a "hard day". Despite not having to go to work herself. And being home. Alone. Sans enfants.

A real man helps make dinner. After the children had been fed, he ushers them upstairs where he proceeds to bathe them. He puts the children to bed. Twice. Because the first time didn't take. Then he comes downstairs and helps to clean the kitchen.

After all the work is done, a real man doesn't relax. He grabs a colouring book and crayons, and then colours a picture for his little girl. Because she wanted a pretty picture to give her teacher, and he had made a promise to her that he would colour something beautiful.

Then he colours another picture because he knows that when one girl gets something wonderful, her twin wants exactly the same thing. Then he colours yet another picture for the baby. So she doesn't feel left out.

A  real man understands how very important these things are to little girls. And he understands that this means more to their mother than a handful of flowers or a truckload of gifts. Thank God for real men!

Tuesday, October 19

A Quick Poll

This morning, I called the school to inform them that I wanted the twins sent home on the bus instead of having them go to daycare. Usually, I leave a voice mail. However, the school secretary (forgive me, I don't know her name) answered the phone. I was taken by surprise. Here is what was said:

School Secretary: Good morning!
Me: Oh! This is Bethie and Katie's mother calling...
School Secretary: Hi Gwen! it a good thing that she knows me by name? After all, my children have only been attending school for six weeks. And there are only about six hundred children in the school. But she remembers me. (Lisa! Stop laughing!)

Truthfully, it's kinda giving me a complex.

The Halloween Ball

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, lived a beautiful princess named Katherine. Katherine loved to look pretty. Every day she would pick out a lovely dress , wear her "high heels", and put on her tiara. Every day, Katherine would hope and pray that she was invited to a ball so she could dance the night away.

But no invitation ever came.

Princess Katherine gave up on her elusive prince and decided that she would host a ball rather than wait for an invitation. She made her own invitations and decorations. She even came up with a theme: Halloween.

But Princess Katherine had no mask to wear to her Halloween ball. She looked high and low but found nothing suitable. She panicked. She couldn't go to the Ball without a mask! What would she do?

Princess Katherine had an idea, and it was a good one! She found an ordinary pen. Standing alone in front of the bathroom mirror, Princess Katherine got to work. At last, she was ready!

Princess Katherine presented herself before the masses. There was a great gasp amongst the peasant folks. She knew that she had created the "perfect" mask. And now, her prince would surely come!

The wicked queen was enraged! She shouted at Princess Katherine, wondering out loud what would possess the young princess to colour all over her face. But Princess Katherine ignored the raging Queen. Because Princess Katherine just knew that her handsome prince would take one look at her face and fall madly and wildly in love. Nothing, not even the crazy ramblings of the old queen, could diminish the pride felt by Princess Katherine.

Sigh. This is a true story.

Monday, October 18

The Grocery List

I went to the grocery store yesterday. Actually, I went to four grocery stores, but that is a whole different story. Anyway, before I left to do the shop, I asked Dan if there was anything he wanted. Dan started naming a bunch of things. I asked him to make a list.

Dan gave it some thought, and then sat down and wrote the grocery list. Because he loves me. Because he wanted to help.

Dan handed me the list. I read it, put it down, and went to get the camera.

Dan asked, "Why are you getting the camera? Are you going to put my grocery list on your blog?".



This was his list:

First, we'll ignore the spelling mistakes. Really, Apple should come out with an app for that. Or Microsoft should create a pen that has a preemptive spell check. Until then, we must suffer through spelling mistakes because we all make them!

Second, Dan wrote down 10 items before he even thought of what the children would need. And what would our offspring need? "School snacks". What did you have in mind, Danny? Anything in particular or shall I just "wing it"?

Did you read the next column?

Here's a close-up:

Dan, while thinking about what we need for the week, thought "Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner" and then wrote that down. You half expect him to write "x7". He didn't. I guess he thought that would occur to me without him having to write it down. Unlike "Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner." The half-wit he married needs specific instructions. Not specific like "chicken, pork, beef". He doesn't want to insult me. But more specific than "Food".

Sigh. One of us is an idiot. And he thinks it's me...

Friday, October 15

The Congo

Let me introduce you to Cara. I met her years ago. We hit it off. She made me laugh. She cheered me up. She made my life better. Just by knowing her. Cara is one of those ladies who is just...good. She's kind, and sweet, and compassionate. She focuses her love and attention of everybody else. Particularly children. Any child. Every child. I can only think of one fault, and it's a biggie. She lives in Calgary. I have nothing against Calgary, other than it's too damn far away from me. I miss my friend.

Cara and her husband, Alistair, have three children. The first two are close together in age. Shockingly close. They are blond hair, blue eyed beauties. Full of laughter and fun and mischief. Her third child currently resides in the Congo. Adoption is a long, and heartbreaking, and excruciating, and expensive process. Cara can practically feel this baby in her arms...yet he is still way too far away.

The Congo is a Hell on Earth. Especially for children. It no longer matters who is fighting, and why they are fighting. The focus is (or should be) on how they are fighting. Rape has become a weapon. The raping of women, of girls, and of babies. Both male and female babies.

The raping of women is used to instill fear. And pain. And shame. It is used as a method of control. As violence. As a means to dehumanize the civilians. The raping of children and babies is cruel, unforgivable, sinful.

When Life's pressures overwhelm me, I always say to myself "There is a woman my age in the Congo would give her eye teeth to swap positions with me". Because my babies are safe. Are clean. Are fed. Are happy. My babies have never had to hide at night. My babies have never had to watch their mother being beaten and raped and humiliated. My babies have never had to starve. Because they were blessed enough to be born white, middle class, and in Canada. And that is the only thing that differentiates them from children in the Congo.

Cara's child is in the midst of all this horror. She longs to have her baby home. Safe at night. Belly full. And tucked into his little bed. There are a lot of obstacles. And delays. Her heart often takes a beating. And she carries on. Taking care of her older children. Hoping that her baby will soon be home.

What frustrates me is the cost involved. Here is a beautiful, happy family who has reached out their arms and opened their home to a baby whose life would otherwise be short and bleak. They are eager to accept him, to love him, to enroll him in Gymboree and other fun activities. They will help him with his homework, ensure that he gets a good education, and pay for him to go to university. They will take him to the doctor's, hold him close when he's sick, and cuddle him when his heart has been broken. But Cara cannot afford the fees involved. I do not know of any family that could. The fees are enormous.

My friend, who has reached out to help a stranger in a strange land, is asking for our help. She is not asking for the thousands and thousands of dollars that she needs. She is asking that we look through a collection of eco-friendly products to see if there is anything we'd like. For ourselves. For others (especially as Christmas will soon be here!). In purchasing from this link, we will be helping a small child who, until now, has had very little reason to hope for a happy future.

If we can all help out a little, what a tremendous difference that would make!

Cara (or "Cams" as I will always think of you!), you are a good person and deserve good things. Your baby will come home. Soon, hopefully. Keep your head up. Hold onto your Faith in the goodness of others. Behind you stand countless friends, family and strangers, cheering you on. I'm there, too, with my pom poms in hand waiting breathlessly for an updated family picture. With all five of you in it!

Wednesday, October 13

My School Rant

Dear Principal of the Twins Little School,

I haven't sent my children to school with a letter for you in about a month. Not because I have nothing to say or I respect that you have far more important things to do than to read about my "worries", but because I was afraid that at some point, you would shoot the postman. In this case, the "postmen" are my little girls. So, I've eased up.

However, I see that you have struggled without my guidance.

I apologize.

I saw hints of this struggle when I got a newsletter home from school asking me to ante up $20 (TWENTY!!!) for pizza days. Really?! That's a lot of pizza for two five year old girls! I send my little angels to school with a piece of fruit, a sandwich, some cheese and crackers, and some juice. And food comes home in their lunch box! This pizza must be tiny or gourmet or something. What's the name of the place you get it? "1 for 1 Pizza". Sounds like a good deal.

Oh! Before we get off the topic, thanks for the 12 hours notice that I need to ante up $20. Love, love, love the midnight dashes to the ATM!

In the same newsletter, you invited me to a "Home and School meeting", a Board of Directors meeting, a movie night on Friday, and to a couple of assemblies. On top of that, you have asked me to volunteer for all sorts of activities. Really? I kinda get the impression that you want me to be more involved, but the last time I showed up at your school when I was invited, I was the only parent there. And, you seemed sort of surprised to see me.  Imagine what a dork I felt like sitting all by myself at the front of the gym and having every child and every teacher stare at me for the duration of the assembly. Therefore, I am going to decline those invitations. You understand.

I have been given lectures via newsletters about how I should save the planet, recycle, and NO MATTER WHAT ensure that my children are sent to school with a "litterless lunch". After I googled "litterless lunch" and figured out what you were talking about, I complied. My little cherubs have "gone green", despite the fact that they are losing weight because they cannot open their "litterless lunch" (I shall cc you on my letter to Rubbermaid). Too bad, I say, we must all suffer if we are going to save Mother Earth.

Well, Mother Gwen is a bit ticked. I have banned juice boxes, plastic wrap, disposable utensils, and brown paper bags. I have sought out "green" alternatives. Just as you have suggested. In the 500 newsletters you have sent home in the last month. In duplicate. I was informed that the oldest sibling at the school gets the newsletters so as not to waste natural resources. How come I still get two of everything? Is it because my kids are in the same class and being identical twins leaves some room for confusion as to whether or not they will both be returning to the same house? Or is it because you are not sure which twin is older (Bethie, but only by a minute), so you just give newsletters to each of them thinking I'll sort it out at home? No, really. This might sound like I am being snarky, but I am dead keen to understand.

But that's not why I am writing to you. I am writing to you because you sent home a letter yesterday, in duplicate, saying, "There are currently cases of impetigo in your child's class. This infection often appears on the face, particularly around the nose and mouth. It presents with small purulent lesions that become encrusted."

Ummm...what did you think my reaction to this would be?

I went crazy. This is the kind of thing that I would like to know before my children have spent all day with sickly, "encrusted" children. Also, I have some follow up questions:
  1. You referred to "cases". How many cases are there? 2? 18? Makes a big difference.
  2. Are the little encrusted darlings been held out of school?
  3. When did the "lesions" first appear? Today? 6 days ago?
The letter goes on to say, "If you notice lesions on your child's skin, we ask that you consult a doctor". Golly, really? Thank goodness this letter was sent home. Normally, we just let "lesions" fester, hoping and praying that they'll go away all by themselves.

At the end of the letter, it reads, "N.B. If you consult a doctor, bring this letter with you". Okay. Will do. Because if my child has oozing facial lesions, I may forget to mention to the doctor that impetigo is going around my child's class. Or, the doctor may not believe me. In which case, this letter, on school letterhead (!), will come in very helpful!

Looking forward to the next newsletter(s)!


P.S. If you are going to send home notes telling me that the school has been infected with impetigo, please let the school secretary know. When I called this morning, she was unaware of the situation, and asked me "if I was kidding". Which lead me to think, 1) do parents commonly call up and make jokes about contagious diseases?, and 2) was I really the only parent who had follow up questions?

Monday, October 11


I am thankful for fresh fruit everyday. For clean, running water. For free, accessible health care. For affordable medicine. For vaccines. For public schools that accept everyone, regardless of sex, race, religion or income.

I am thankful for our home. For 4 walls and a roof that will protect us from the elements. For our safety. For our neighbours, who delight in my children and who look out for each other (and each other's children).

I am thankful that I can read. That my children will read. That my children will have opportunities that most people in the world can only dream of. That their focus won't be on preventing starvation, fleeing from violence, or survival. They have the luxury to grow and thrive.

I am thankful for the sound of little girls laughing. For kisses blown at each other. For giant hugs. For the love and comfort of having my family around me.

I am thankful that there is a child in the Congo who will soon be with his Mummy, Daddy, brother and sister in Calgary. I am thankful that Cara's love doesn't comprehend differences in race or territories mapped out by waring countries. Her heart has reached across the ocean and grabbed hold of her child, and the hold she has on him is stronger than all the forces that may try to diminish that bond.

I am thankful that I get to share my dinner of Thanksgiving with those that I love most in this world:

Despite their "nuances" (yes, Dan, this includes you. Exhibit A: insisting on wearing sunglasses while you are photographed eating your Thanksgiving meal), they are everything to me. And I am everything to them. My cup runneth over.

Sunday, October 10

Prima Ballerinas

I let the twins play outside...alone. We live on a quiet street, with very little traffic. The girls aren't "up to no good". They usually just pretend they are princesses and dance about. And I get a little break.

Katie and Bethie had been outside for a while before they came bursting in the front door shouting, "Come and watch our performance!". I dropped what I was doing, and went outside to watch my little ballerinas sing and dance.

I took the camera.

Although the show was wonderful, I must confess, I was distracted. What could possibly distract me from their angelic voices and gracefully dancing?


Bethie and Katie had raced around my gardens picking almost all my marigolds so they could "fancy up" their "stage". AHHH!

The best bit was this:

These were the flowers that I was meant to toss at the twins after their performance. They had thought of everything!

Thursday, October 7

The View From My Home

The other day, I was washing dishes and feeling rather sorry for myself. The day had gone miserably, and it was no where near over, and no one seemed to understand me.

I glanced out my kitchen window and saw this:

I ignored the weeds (hence their existence in the first place!) and focused on the brilliance of the yellow marigolds and the complementary purple asters. I was "wowed". I thought, for sure, that these asters weren't going to make it. They had looked so pitiful during the summer, that my only hope was that they would survive. I had no expectation that they would bloom. But they did. And I was thrilled.

Today, I was walking past my front window and saw this:

Sarah is the little one at the end of this "train". My heart soared. Emilie had taken the children for a walk or to the park, and now they were coming home. And all I could think of was that I have the best views from my house!

Wednesday, October 6

Favourite Part

Every evening during dinner, I ask everyone "What was your favourite part of the day?". Each person gets a chance to answer. We've been doing this for years, and we all love this tradition.

On Sunday, we went to the Papanack Zoo to celebrate Tyler's birthday. Near the end of the party, each child got a chance to feed the animals. The twins chose to drop their feed into the rabbit pen.



Sarah was a little more brave. She, with help from Mum, fed the goats.

That was about 3pm on Sunday. Every five minutes since then, Sarah has said, "My favourite part?". I have to say, "What was your favourite part?". She replies, "Give animals crackers. They lick my hand!". Every five minutes. I'm supposed to act surprised and delighted. My enthusiasm has waned. Significantly. However, the "updates" continue!

Tuesday, October 5

One Day

Weekday mornings are difficult for me. First of all, Dan leaves for work so early that I have to prepare the children for school and daycare on my own. Secondly, the twins don't "do" mornings (and Sarah does them too damn early!!!). Just waking them up is a battle! Third, none of the children like to eat breakfast. Fourth, none of the children willingly get dressed, and hardly ever wear what I would like them to wear. And lastly, all three girls are slow! Needless to say, there's a lot of shouting in my house in the mornings.

Today was different. The stars must have aligned. It was wonderful.

Two thirds of the children came downstairs without a fight (Katie came down when I offered to hold her hand). Two thirds of the children ate all of their breakfast (Sarah had been grazing since 5:20am, so I was not upset about her skipping some of her breakfast). Not only did the twins get dressed without a fight, they put on the clothes that I have been dying for them to wear!!!

Here are some snaps of my Highland lassies:

I was thrilled!

I packed the twins off to school, I took a deep breath, and prepared myself for Sarah's daily fury.

But Sarah was a dream. She was eager to get dressed, and was eager to put on her jacket, hat, and mitts. I was shocked, especially because she knew she was going to daycare (Sarah has fought me on going to daycare since the twins started school). I was over the moon!!! I told her that since she was being soooo good, she needed to have her photo taken, too.

Ta da:

I practically skipped to daycare. Everything had been so perfect.

Once inside Emilie's house, Sarah removed her outerwear and started playing with Olivier. Olivier is only about fourteen months old. Typically, he drives Sarah crazy. Today, she delighted in "fetching" the ball for him.

I turned to Andre and said, "I can't believe how wonderfully it's going today!". He replied, "It's only one day". Yes, it's ONE day. That's ONE day more than we had yesterday...and it whispers the promise of MORE DAYS to come!