And it goes on...

I have done many disgusting things as a parent. Things I never thought, as I gagged on the sound of someone eating a banana near me, possible. For instance, I have voluntarily held out my hands to catch my childs puke because nothing else was handy. Pretty remarkable considering I once vomited into a friend's sink after watching her baby spit-up during her post-nursing burp. However, nothing I have done in the past in terms of grossness compares to yesterday.

Yesterday I scooped poop out of Sebastian's diaper with a plastic spoon smaller than the nail on my pinkie finger and smeared it into a small plastic container until it reached the fill line halfway up. And then I did it again.

Actually in the interest of full disclosure, Hugh did. Both times. Because apparently I haven't completely lost my gag reflex.

The last 30 days by the numbers

4 - hours I spent sitting in a walk-in clinic with Ava who was diagnosed with Strep throat.
1 - hour I spent at my doctor's office to discover Ava's Strep throat was, in fact, not Strep.
3 - the number of kids in my house who got hand, foot and mouth disease.
12 - days in a row spent inside my house with kids who were quarantined.
1 - day spent in the great white somewhere before round 2.
7 - the next set of days I did not smell fresh air while my kids succumbed to Fever #2 one after another.
1 - day that my husband called in sick because he too got some wicked cold/flu thing.
400 - fervent prayers that everyone would be better for our trip to a wedding in the Okanagan.
10 - hours it took us to get to Salmon Arm which everyone was miraculously better for.
13 - hours we were in Vernon for the wedding.
10 - hours we were in Kamloops visiting family friends.
6 - times Sebastian puked on our way to Kamloops.
0 - changes of clothes I had on hand for him.
2 - pairs of jammies I bought in Kamloops.
2 - times Sebastian puked in Kamloops.
1000 - more fervent prayers that no one else would be sick for the drive home.
12 - hours it took us to drive back to Medicine Hat in which no one else was sick.
4 - storage units we bought from Ikea when we stopped in Calgary. Toy clutter begone!
2 - roadside pee stops.
1 - roadside poo stop. Say no more.
1 - time Sebastian threw up the night we got home.
10 - hours it took me to put together the storage units using pictoral instructions, a phillips head screwdriver and that damn allen key!
3 - more times Sebastian has thrown up in the last 4 days.
2 - the amount of times Hugh threw up yesterday
3 - the amount of times I threw up yesterday.
0 - the amount of times Tristan and Ava have thrown up...SO FAR.
1500 - more fervent prayers that they do not get sick now too.

How have you been?

Then again, maybe not

Being a parent myself now, I appreciate my mom at a whole new level. I recognize the sacrifices she made so that I did not have to go without. I am thankful for the boundaries she set for me and I realize they were truly put in place for my protection. I understand in a whole new way that my mom was never out to get me, no matter what I believed as a teenager, and that she never once made a decision without agonizing over if it was the right one, only wanting to do the best job she could and not having the luxury of a crystal ball to tell her if it was the right one. I appreciate this because now it's my turn to agonize and set limits and boundaries and wonder if I'm doing any of it right or if I'm scarring my children for life.

So it was with great delight and surprise, after wiping Tristan's hands and face after lunch a few days ago, I heard him say "Thank you Mom. You take good care of me." I scooped him up into a great big hug, and rained kisses down on him while he giggled, my heart full and soaring, he gets it! All the things I do for him, he gets it! He appreciates it! I let him down to go play and savoured the deliciousness of that comment for hours in a happy little bubble of joy and fulfillment.

Sometime later that day I saw the kids playing together on the floor with a talking My Little Pony that Ava got for her birthday and I stopped to watch. This pony comes with a stethoscope, a thermometer, a medicine spoon and a box of kleenex and was currently sneezng up a storm. After much bossing from Ava and negotiation from Tristan one of them finally got to wipe the poor pony's nose with a special mini kleenex. Just as I was about to commend them on their kindness I heard the pony say, "Thank you. You take good care of me."

Things I have learned planning Tristan and Ava's 4th birthday party

1. I do not like the taste of icing. I used to like it. Until I had to ice 6 cakes in the shape of balloons. It's shocking how much icing you end up ingesting while doing this.

2. How to do a proper crumb coating so you don't get cake bits in your icing. After doing it wrong and getting cake bits in my icing.

3. My kids have more friends than I do. 17 of them are coming to the party tomorrow.

4. My oven is not level. The front of the cakes came out significantly higher than the back which made my "balloons" very lopsided.

5. How to make paper kites. I made 19 of them for the kids to decorate tomorrow during the party.

6. Hugh needs a deadline to make him go gang-busters in the yard. He's been working every night after work until dark to get the underground sprinklers hooked up and buried so we can set up the trampoline we and the g & g's bought the kids. Sprinklers are done, unfortunately there is a large pile of fence boards in the way.

7. I am all about the easy way out. We're doing a Teddy Bear Picnic themed party so I googled teddy bear cakes and how to make them. ARE YOU KIDDING ME! As if I'm going to that kind of effort. Twice. I decided to use stuffed teddy bears holding the ribbons up to cakes in the shape of balloons. Cake and a present all in one place - what could be better!

8. Tristan and Ava have a much sharper level of awareness than I have previously been used to. This morning I brought down the Care Bears that I bought for the cakes. (I was looking for old-fashioned teddy bears but this is what Wal-mart had, GOOD ENOUGH!) I was hiding them behind this huge board when Ava said in a singsong voice, "Oh Mo-om! I think I see Care Bears in your hands!" So much for that.

9. The dollar store is cheap crap heaven on one hand and parental purgatory on the other. "Keep your hands on the stroller and stop asking me to buy one of everything we see. No, you don't need a book light as YOU DO NOT READ!"

10. Despite how chaotic and insane it's going to be I'm looking forward to the party itself. And not just the part when it's all over. This might mean I'm crazy. But crazy or not, Tristan and Ava are 4 and it's time to celebrate!

Hoodwinking 101

If you have ever taken care of children not your own (who speak in sentences) you know that in the absence of the people who know kids will basically try to get away with murder using the tried and true line, "But Mommy always lets me!" Like, "But Mommy always lets me get the water myself!" or "But Mommy always lets me have 2 cookies!" Their genius is they ask for things that fall just this side of the maybe line. It's not like they're asking for 10 cookies, that would be an automatic no. But 2? Well maybe they really are allowed two cookies and maybe they really are allowed to press the button for the water on the fridge. Then again, you think as the water is pouring onto the wood floor, maybe not.

My sister Jane moved to Vancouver at the end of May but had to come back for a wedding. One morning, during the week she was here she kindly let us sleep in. Although that may not have been intentional since it's sort of hard to pretend you're still asleep when the kids have jumped into your bed to cuddle, asking, "Abbey are you awake? Are you awake now? Are you awake yet? Oh AAAAABEY!" while also laying on your head and kicking you in the back in a nice staccato rhythm. Whether she just needed to remove herself from arms (or feets) reach or whether she thought food would help tame the beasts I don't know; at any rate Jane hauled herself out of bed to make the kids breakfast, specifically toast.

My kids eat alot of toast and they always ask me to cut the crusts off and I always say no. Not because I actually care if they eat their crusts or not, I don't like eating my crusts, I just can't be bothered cutting them off and figure they can eat around them.Yes I am that lazy.Now Jane has spent almost as much time with the kids as I have and she knows this routine so her automatic respnse was negative when they first asked. But she had been gone for 3 weeks and Ava, eyes shining, head nodding and conviction throbbing in her voice was saying, "But Mommy ALWAYS cuts the crust off!" When Hugh got downstairs and saw their crustless toast he laughed "they got you did they?"

Unlike the time she picked the kids up from preschool and Tristan asked if he could drive.
"Abbey can I drive?"
"No."
"Whyyyy?"
"Because you're a kid and kids aren't allowed to drive."
"But WHYYYYY?"
"Because that's the rule."
"But I don't want that to be the rule!"
"Well it is, so hop into your carseat."
"But I want to DRIIIIIVE!"
"But. you. are. not. going. to."
"BUT I WANT TOOOOO!"
"Tristan quit arguing! You are NOT DRIVING."
"But...But...But...Mommy always lets me!"

Let me repeat, the key to success is be believable.

In which there is adventure, nudity, and friendship

I have a good friend, Heidi. I met her through the Twins n' More Club here and she and I instantly connected. She is a true kindred spirit and I've never waved her off without having laughed till I cried at least once in the hours spent together. Heidi is always up for an adventure and is the kind of person things just happen to and happen around so she always has the craziest stories to tell. If you ever come to visit and meet Heidi make sure you get her to tell you the story of the Newfie she met while living in New Brunswick who moments after introducing herself to Heidi began talking about her "veegoina".

As I said I met Heidi through the twins club so obviously she also has twins - a set of boys who are only six weeks younger than Tristan and Ava. She also has a six year old daughter, who along with Sebastian we consider the bookends to all our 3 year olds. She is the kind of mom I always thought I'd be and she consistently inspires me to be more creative and spontaneous in my parenting. Heidi is the mom who makes pirate swords with cardboard and tin foil and plans treasure hunts. She will set up a store in their basement and takes her turn as the cashier...and she actually loves it! She's the one who said to me on the phone one evening, "Oh, the neighbourhood kids all got their jammies on and are here for story time so I better get to the playhouse." She has a strict dance in the rain rule and everytime it rains she and her kids run outside for a moment of magic. A while ago we were driving down some back alley when I saw a cheetah-print footstool sitting beside a dumpster and Heidi loves animal prints. "Stop the van! I said to Hugh, "I need to get that stool for Heidi!" There are very few people I would consider giving something I got from a dumspter as a gift and even fewer people who would love getting it.

A few months ago while both our husbands were working during the annual city festival, Spectrum, we decided to take our gaggle on an adventure together. Because the festival was happening in the downtown core where parking is next to nil, the city was offering free bus rides all weekend and we thought it would be a fun adventure to take the bus and check out the festival. We met at Heidi's bright and early on the Saturday morning. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the children were doing little happy dances of joy and so we walked (the kids skipped) a few blocks up the street to catch the bus at our neighbourhood MAC'S. All was sweetness and light and thrilling adventure until we had been waiting at the dodgy bus stop for 20 minutes and the kids began getting restless. I wonder if we should have checked the bus schedule," Heidi said.
"It's free bus rides all weekend for Spectrum, they must be running the buses pretty regularly," I said. "I'm sure it'll be along any minute."
30 minutes passes and the kids are complaining about being hot and thirsty so we pull out the large ziploc of goldfish crackers and bottles of water that we packed for just such an emergency though frankly we had not expected to need it so soon. We carefully ration the water because the last thing we need is to be stuck on the bus and have someone announce they need to pee. And you know they only tell you they need to go when they absolutely cannot hold it for one second longer. At this point no other passengers have shown up at the bus stop, which is the main stop in our area of town, and we are seriously wondering if these city buses even exist.
45 minutes and every child but Sebastian has been in some form of timeout or another and I'm feeling like if I have ask my kids one more time to stop putting stuff from the ground in their mouths I am going to LOSE IT!
55 minutes and suddenly people are coming from every direction to catch the bus and hope is revived in our listless little ones who all jump off the bench to see who can be the first one to spot the city bus which must be arriving momentarily...
10 or 15 more minutes pass and apparently it really is mostly the crazies who take the bus. We have now officially waited for the bus in the hot sun with 6 kids, most of whom are at an age not typically associated with patience and long attention spans, for over an hour. Finally, to a chorus of the shrillest excitement the bus arrives and as I manhandle my stroller onto the bus Heidi casually mentions the long wait time to the driver.
"Oh," he says, "that's because on Saturday mornings untill 11:00 it's dial-a-ride."
Dial-a-ride? Dial-a-ride! Please tell me if there is any another city you can call for a bus like it's a cheap taxi.

As it turned out the bus ride ended up being the highlight of the Festival and minus a brief hour where we walked through a street or two we spent the entire day riding the bus and the kids were so thoroughly entertained and so good that Heidi and I had the unheard of wonder of an almost entirely uninterrupted conversation. Who knew a bus ride could be such bliss?

When we did first get off the bus downtown we figured since the kids did drink all that water at the bus stop and we had been fortunate up to this point the first thing we needed to do was find a bathroom. And since it was incredibly busy because of the festival we ended up with all eight of us and my stroller crammed into one bathroom in Tim Horton's to take turns peeing. We quickly developed a system and because I was jammed between the sink and my stroller I was the hand-washer and Heidi was the pant puller-downer and back -upper and the toilet hopper-onner and -offer. You know you're good friends when....I thought as Heidi wiped Ava's bum and hopped her off the toilet. Then it was Tristan's turn. Why does one of them always have to have some sort of neurotic issue? A few weeks earlier Tristan had been sitting on an automatic flush toilet that flushed, very loudly, while he was still on it and he now refused to pee sitting down in any public toilet. No matter how much I assured him this one wouldn't flush by itself and wouldn't be loud Tristan stood in front of the toilet with his hands over his ears. That is not the best place to have your hands if you are a boy standing in front of a toilet with your pants down. Which I think he realized because he started shouting, "Mom! Hold my penis! Hold my penis!" But I was wedged between the sink and the stroller and the lineup of children. I looked at Tristan. Heidi looked at Tristan. We looked at each other. Then Heidi, my friend of the crazy stories shrugged her shoulders and reached out.

I may not be an Olympic athlete but...

We've been watching the Olympics with our kids.
They loved the Opening Ceremonies - Ava loved the drummers and kept asking if we could just watch that and Tristan spent almost every moment between each section of fireworks asking when the next ones were coming. So we really enjoyed it....

As for the events, they love the diving and think every replay is a new dive, could care less about the gymnastics unless the people are falling off things and can't tell the difference between the men and the women in the swimming.

The other day I pointed out that there was a Canadian in the swimming so we should cheer for him because we're Canadians to which my kids responded, "NO! NO! We live in Medicine Hat!" This prompted a discussion on country which is not as easy as it sounds when your kids think the house they live in is Medicine Hat. I'm not sure where we are in our local Starbucks drive-through but as my kids have very passionately argued, it is NOT MEDICINE HAT! I'm still working on my arguements for that so I kept it simple, Medicine Hat is a city in the country of Canada (I wasn't touching provinces or territories with a 10 foot pole!) and therefore we are Canadians. The end. Because I said so. I dare you to argue.
After pondering that idea for awhile Tristan looked and me and said, "Mom, you are a fabulous Canadian."