Summer Vakay

Once upon a time there was a beautiful queen (and by beautiful I mean beautifully delusional) who decided to take her two children camping....

The fairytale genre will be referenced here not because I want to entertain you two but rather because a camping trip with a 2 year old and 10 month old baby should only ever take place in our imaginations!!!!!!

When said trip was propositioned to me months in advance I jumped on it. My dad and his wife, my sister and her family-this meant 4 adults and 2 kids helping entertain and look after my kids; yes you might say this was a "rookie" move.  I was confused.  I was liking a camping trip with kids to having round the clock Nannies....or maybe even a vacation where I send my kids away ( I realise now that-that is actually "camp" NOT, I repeat, NOT CAMPING!).


The night before departure I received a little "blessing in disguise" TWO SICK KIDS. Now, kids don't judge me, sick kids meant that I could drug you both, black out the back seat, put soothers in your mouths and drive in peace and delightful quiet! And that is exactly what I did!  4 hours and not a peep! 4 hours and not even one eye opened. 4 hours and I thought I had died and gone to heaven! I suppose this was someones idea of a joke-the calm before the storm!

I arrived! (kids still sleeping)  I waved to Grandma and Grandpa (kids still sleeping)  I parked (kids still sleeping) I turned off the engine (kids screaming). At this point I should have taken a knee, submitted to my tom foolery and got back in the car and driven home.  I have suffered my whole life from over confidence and was about to get schooled.

The first night you were both wide awake and wanted to be a part of the action.  This meant a baby cage beside the camp fire.  Oh how brilliant everyone thought I was pulling that out of the car.  "What a great idea Heidi. Oskar will be able to play and crawl about without the risk of being burned, touching and eating pine needles...and on...and on." said one camp dweller.

 I am sure I smugly grinned thinking YES I AM A GENIUS!  I might actually have been a genius had you not begun to scream, and scream, and scream! No, you were not interested in being "protected" and were desperate for escape.  Yes I am an idiot-why would any one person want to be in a mesh pen when they could be exploring wilderness-again ROOKIE! You were promptly put to bed.

 Ila-seriously! If I say do not walk near the fire pit because you will get hurt-I mean it.  I do not mean, nor do I think it is necessary, for you to have chosen that exact moment to test every word and direction out of my mouth.  If you are reading this as a teenager-stop right this minute and come and tell me how thankful you are that I scolded you and put you to bed-which ruined your fun-but saved your face!

Dear Lord why did I ever think this was going to be fun??? 

The plan was always to return to the campfire-it is both your faults that I was too tired and was asleep at 730pm. Just in case you need assistance seeing what I missed out on it was as follows: Smores, beer, wine, cards, good chats!

Day 2 (first full day) Grandma was a rockstar and had enrolled you in swim lessons. I packed you both up. Walked down to the pool-I was excited to be in the water with my girl-excited for you to learn to swim.  The duration of the swim lesson was to be 30 minutes every day for 3 days. The 15 we were a part of-were life changing. I will venture a prediction that although you love the water you will not be an Olympic swimmer.

If you are ever looking for a core workout-please, by all means, borrow a child of mine-the struggle to keep them still and head above water in the pool will be like a 2 hour TRX class.

Thank goodness you both tuckered yourselves out with the constant crying. You were exhausted refusing to smile. Fatigued through refusal to share, hug, play, talk, take a soother out of your mouths....wiped out by being complete assholes! Bedtime was a precise 7pm.(maybe you both being sick was not a blessing-I am an idiot for thinking so-sick kids=KIDIOTS! Childrasses!

You must have been happy to sleep so early because you had plans of your own.  How delighted I was when Ila began her rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on repeat at 2am.  This woke up Oskar, Me and pretty much every one else-this was only cute for about 10 minutes....after that your voice was annoying.  At 3am when I said you were killing me you kissed my forehead and said "All better?" I smiled and then thought about 100 ways to end my misery....I am not sure Craig's List handles this type of issue?????

Day 3-Your Auntie let me sleep in. No point in rushing to the pool for a swim lesson. No worry about cougars or bears attacking us-your screams were enough....I am shocked people didn't pay me to leave.  Now Oskar-what happened to you?  You were so mellow. So happy. So content. Now if I even look away for a moment you are gone. 

Chloe was on Oskar duty-her job: Make sure Oskar doesn't eat any nature! Now who said that if you do the same thing over and over and expect different results you are insane?  Oskar-why might I ask do you eat dirt? Bugs? Grass? Rocks? Thread? Blankets? Pine Cones??  I am just curious if you realize that rocks don't actually taste good???!!!! You didn't shit out a bandaid-like a friend of a friend's kid but there was a multitude of vegetation.  I am thinking the bandaid might have hurt less.

Day 4-The family Event.  Due to a late nap I had to roll you into the wedding anniversary of my aunt and uncle like Jay Z and Beyonce. Your ride was covered in a UV blanket-you could see out but no one could see in.  If anyone ventured a peek-Chaos! Tears! Thrashing! 

I was no longer a Mother of two-I was now relegated to "handler" of Diva stars! Your LIST OF DEMANDS was anything but short:
1. Don't let anyone look at, smile, speak to, or nod in your general direction
2. Do not offer ice cream, chicken tenders, Mac and Cheese-none of these will be sufficient. (Do not remove them either-in case you change your mind)
3. Do not put on Barney, Sesame Street, Diego because I want to watch Sesame Street, Barney and Diego.
4. If "Star" happens to cry, scream, lie on the floor in angst of how the night is moving along understand that it is completely the "handler's" fault and thus she should immediately do whatever is necessary to make the "Stars" happy.
5. Be aware that there is nothing you can do to make the Stars happy.

Oh how wonderful a parent I looked. Such well behaved kids I had that night.  Ila running around through the tables and choosing the exact moment of Grandpa's speech and song to take a dump. This might have gone unnoticed had you not announced it loudly and everyone in a 2 table radius heard and a larger population knew by the wonderful fragrance as I whisked you out screaming.  Oskar, I lost you on numerous occasions and of course found you next to a power outlet every time. I am sure my Aunt learnt a lesson that night-Heidi and her kids are no longer invited to social events.

 Day 5-I enjoyed whacking a couple of mosquitoes off your heads.That was a small bit of joy. Today you covered your blankie in chocolate ice cream. This posed a dilemma: should I clean it and thus you would be without for a few hours which most likely would mean listening to your inconsolable cries. OR let the chocolate stain your best friend?????  Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm

 On the walk back home I happened across some high pressured sprinklers; could this solve my problem quickly? YES!!!! I literally held the dried chocolate stains in the water and watched as they were thrown from the pink fuzz. 2 minutes later a blanket cleaner than when first purchased. I handed the soaking blanket to one delighted child and instantly sleep crept over. IDIOT! Now I had a child sleeping with a dripping blanket covering shoulder to toe.  AMATEUR-I removed said blanket. HOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

"Please (I asked a restaurant worker) do you have a drier accessible? If you do please please please-can you hear that???? That is my kid-please dry this so she stops."

I sat down and waited.......SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH The quiet was soothing and soon the aforementioned worker was waking me up-blanket was dry-I had to go back. No it was not common for people to come and have a nap in the diner. Yes it was the dinner rush. Yes people knew whose mother I was and therefore it would be overlooked.  Nap duration-27 minutes!

Day 6-Drive home.  Now, nothing, and I mean nothing serves a road trip better than a bum change on the side of the highway. It is during these (numerous) times when I struggle with my anti-littering stance. Yes that diaper travelled with us a ways!

(Picture not from this trip-however you get the idea that this is a regular event on White Family road trips)


Lesson Learnt: I will never do that again! Well unless they invite me back next year.

Scientific Advancements Falling Short

If I was a parent in the year 1735 my worries would of course be different than that of today's. I would spend my time concerned with whether or not my family would be hit with the plague, and if so, would we survive it?! Seeing as though my kids are generally fat and happy-we might stand a great chance!

If I was a parent in 1955 my worries may be around whether my kid was a communist dressed in the disguise of a baby or whether my kid would "catch"homosexuality" or "black" from the local water fountain at the park-thank goodness we have realized you can only get these things from kissing....or is it playing Red Rover???? I can never remember.

The point is this-these would be FAR better than how science has failed me as a parent in 2012.  It is in this day and age where we constantly talk about how advanced we are and how far we've come that I realize that almost every day I am let down by scientific/engineering/technological failure.

1. The car ride. Seriously people-automotive engineers, parental influence etc.... Can we not combine the limousine and the mini van/SUV together?  Can we not, for the love of all things HOLY, add the freaking partition option onto all family automobiles?  Would you not find that road trip or drive to the supermarket just a little more enjoyable if you could simply press a button and a soundproof window just appeared behind the driver's seat?!

2. The stroller straps.  There is nothing quite so embarrassing, challenging and infuriating than trying to get the struggling toddler, in the midst a full blown tantrum, into the stroller and then DO UP THE STRAPS/BELT! Maybe Ila has super strength and will be the next heavy weight champion in that stupid weight lifting contest where the guys where onesies and grunt BUT either way I find it almost impossible to get her to BEND at the hip and SIT when she just doesn't want to.  Now, what if, and I am just throwing this out there...what if we invented a bar that comes down from above (think roller-coaster) and pushed the hips down and back. So Strong would this bar be that if your stroller tipped over or even flipped in the air your kid couldn't get out!!!!!  You see, I need this, why you ask??? Well the other night while out for a leisurely stroll with the family-Ila was not only difficult to get in the stroller but when she decided she had had enough she twisted and strained until she had basically fallen out of the stroller-a secure bar is needed.

No photo will accompany this because at the time I was too busy trying to keep calm-I was not thinking 'future blog moment'

3. Sunscreen. Yesterday I received a text from my friend Jen which read and I quote "Putting sunscreen on a kid...there must be an easier way!!!!"YES YES-why isn't there??? Another friend (Michee) suggested that we dip our kids in a vat of sunscreen-all they would need is swimming goggles and nose plugs.  I figure that the reason Michael Jackson covered his kids faces with blankets and subsequently named one of them as such was not because he was a weirdo but instead he didn't want to deal with the sunscreen fight every day (remember NeverLand is in a sunny city-that's sunscreen everyday folks!) Some say that their kids drive them to drink-maybe his kids drove him to the blanket thing.....

....as you can see I haven't quite got to the whole "covering the face thing BUT I AM CLOSE!

4. Dinner time. Tell me people why is it so difficult to get the spoon of baby food into an 11 month old baby's mouth?  Honestly-feeding Oskar is like trying to cut a triangle in a swinging cantaloupe-impossible but not without value!  Any comments I have here, or ideas about an old-school dentist's chair and chin straps, most certainly will be too restrictive and borderline abusive however maybe just maybe when you are in the midst of feeding your own kids you will think I am on to something.

Kids, I hope that by the time you have your own trouble makers that these issues have been rectified by my suggestions or that someone has come up with something even better!

Parental Failures

I guess an apology is in order-so I am so sorry that you both are normal and average. I knew it was going to be that way the day we were at the Zoo and I was pointing out the animals-"There's a Ginormous Elephant!" I wouldn't have thought that this was a disservice to your educations had there not been a woman to my right also pointing out the animals to her kids.

You see kids that Crazy Mom Who HOME SCHOOLS and then wonders why her child doesn't know how to be around other kids (HEY FOLKS SO WHAT IF YOUR KID IS GREAT AROUND ADULTS-HE/SHE NEEDS TO BE SOCIAL WITH PEOPLE HIS AGE-NOT YOURS) was saying the animal's names in English, Spanish, French and F'ing Mandin-are you kidding me?! Who has time for that? And if this child one day grows up to work with the UN will it be necessary to know the Albanian name for monkey? (Well maybe....Ju jeni një majmun). Sometimes, let's be honest, I will see a goat and say-look at them there goat-when the proper name is North American Hybrid Open Wood Mountain Goat-you can see where I went wrong raising you.

I apologize that neither of you are gifted!  Firstly, I realize that ALL kids these days are either gifted or have a learning disability and thus you are different because you are in the middle with no group to join.  I also know there is some weird two and a half year old living in Calgary who has been invited to join Mensa (www.canada.mensa.org)-but let's face it-that kid is weird, his days are filled with learning useless shit like who was the 7th PM of Canada....never in my life have I needed to know that tid-bit of info and you don't see me a member of Mensa for realizing that some bits of knowledge are useless. Bottom line-you most likely won't be inviting him to your birthday party.

YES, there was a moment when I thought things might be different for you-Ila, you talked early and well-then I remembered that everyone I know also speaks so this was dismissed as a non-talent.  Oskar, you crawled and stood faster than your sister-again I also walk so that couldn't mean anything...Then there was the swing in the other direction-the odd time you got stuck under a low table, maybe-every once in a while one of you might eat dirt, lick the Mall floor, put your entire head in the water table at the Science Center----still the things you can do evens out the stupid stuff. Thus, again, you're average.

I suppose it was my lack of ingenuity during my maternity leave that is to blame.  I confess that I did nothing but play, sing, dance, read and hang out with you.  I did not invent Baby Gourmet Baby Food and become a millionaire. I did not write a book about Vampire Love, or one about a Wizard Kid with a lightening bolt on his forehead-I did think about it but it seems someone already wrote a book about a game where kids kill kids and are hungry so I had no choice but to just be average myself.

I did not lie about you either-I did not and will not tell other Moms that you are something you are not.  For instance-Ila you stutter right now.  I think this may have something to do with your brother crawling and causing you large amounts of stress and suffering-I certainly do not guess or pretend that you do this because you have an extensive vocabulary and are so excited to get the words out that you stumble on them. I say own it kid!!!!!  Unfortunately there are other Moms that, when their kid bites, they say something like "Oh Johny is very tactile and thus needs to experience everything with multiple ways of touch-he's a genius actually!" and YES folks I did meet a Mom who tried to use this excuse as to why her son had Ila's shoulder in his mouth-the kid was 10 months old....of yes very tactile, I see an invitation to Mensa in his future or maybe even the next Doogie Howser.

 But kids-all of this aside, 私の素敵な小さな子供たちは、あなたが私の目には驚くべきです！

The Terribles.....

It is official!  I am now in the possession of a TODDLER! This tiny tyrant, whose head spins round, foams at the mouth, and back arches out of my arms in the throws of a tantrum use to be my sweet angel.

It is because of this, and this only, that my parenting book entitled How To Raise the Best Kid EVER has now been changed to Please Stop Being An Asshole in Public!  I must have been naive or in denial-I had seen these episodic examples everywhere: The tired mom at the gym wrangling her kid into a jacket.  The Child lying on the floor of Toys R Us crying...I had assumed that these "parents" needed to get their shit together and start disciplining their children-seriously if I could quiet 35 sixteen year olds with one look how could these people not control a pint size pest?

I have now seen the error of my ways. I confess I was a better parent before I actually became one.

I will give you credit you have transitioned me slowly-occassional outbursts, the odd dive to the floor, an emotional hit at me when you were over-tired. You were taken to the step (thank you Super Nannny), or airlifted to your room-within minutes returned with a hug and a sheepish I am sorry...I was becoming over-confident. (Yesterday at the park, after pushing a boy 3 years older than yourself-you said "Can't I just say sorry?") Dear God please help me!

February 2, 2012 however will officially be CHAPTER 1-How I Get Noticed.  It is safe to say that everyone on Flight 4456 to Puerto Vallarta remembers us-you just a little more than me quite possibly. How could you not be etched into their minds....

AHHHHHHHH, NOOOOOOOO, walking the aisles, the two person diaper change at our seats (a BIG No NO) because I could not hold you still, CRYING, grabbing and throwing toys, crawling over me, then Nanny, then Oskar, waking up Oskar, fish hooking Oskar, the tiny body thrashing against seats, stealing and sucking a baby's soother-then waking that baby an hour later by screaming right next to him...if I am ever murdered by a Sniper rest assured it is that mother's payback for making it the worst flight of her life also. When exiting the flight-the attendants, passengers, pilots, ground crew let out a sigh and hoped that we would not be at the same hotel or on the same flight home (Lord Hear Their Prayers).

I wish that had been a one time kinda thing however on the return flight a kind woman sitting across the aisle from us offered, and changed, Oskar's poopy bum so that we wouldn't chance waking you. Again, she will remember us.

I have to ask myself: -WWKMD?  What Would Kate Middleton Do?  Maybe if I focus on what her actions might be to quell future mishaps I will not have to look at younger version of myself.  The dirty look, reflected back.  The "Ila this is not funny" turned and in the midst of a screaming fit thrown back at me "Mommy you are not funny-go to your room." "Mommy you are making me crabby." and so on... I am sure when the Princess has children she will not yell "JESUS JUST BE QUIET" in the parking lot of Coop and will of course not have to wonder when her baby girl is frustrated at her younger brother why she says "Jesus Ocker this is unacetible." (spelling is deliberate)  I figure that this would resolve the issues that have recently come to my attention at the park. Ila you push, you are quite bossy, and very dramatic....yes yes you come by it honestly-I do, daily, receive the Oscar for Best Dramatic Performance of a Housewife...but no one but your father gets good seats for that performance.

If I look to Windsor, maybe-just maybe, instead of you not being an asshole in public-I will not look like one myself.

I will leave you all now with a Curtsy, slight head nod, and a gentle wave....

2026: A Message From 2012

Kids, I have sat you down on this day in 2026 because quite frankly you've become quite jerky as teenagers and you seem to think that this is all my fault.  You have decided that you know everything, that I am an idiot, unreasonable, and too emotional and so I have taken pen in hand to remind you of this day some 15 years ago. Be careful kids-I know you think you're "Super Cool" and in control but I have news for you...

Today began like any other day-you both woke up cheerful-full of beans, and honestly a joy to be around. Of course, I never have high expectations anymore-I now am the parent of a toddler!

As an aside, I do feel that for mental health practitioners to be properly trained in dealing with those who suffer from Mania or Bi-Polar Disorder that an afternoon, or even an hour, with a toddler who has a "now crawling" sibling would sufficiently prepare them for any dealings they may face with this unfortunate disease.

We ventured downstairs for breakfast and the ever dreaded diaper change.  Before I could even hit the last step: PANIC-SCREAMING-DISTRESS! The ever-beloved pink, fussy blanket with satin trim has been left upstairs and now I have one 2 year old lying on the floor in an emotional mess called "good morning." Oskar, bewildered (I do hope as a teenager you have learned to cope with this confusion your sister causes you) whimpering as his happy mood is dampened by the revolting display on said floor.

Blanket recovered from the bed-breakfast has begun.  How could I have forgot that the Cheerios I am eating are so much better than the ones in your bowl.  How could I forget that the baby food I am trying to feed you is not the flavor you like. How could I forget that to eat breakfast you must be sitting in the right chair, with the beloved blankie behind you (for quick getaways and emergency cuddling), that the su-su (pacifier) has to be in plain sight at all times...really HOW COULD I?!

Insert 3-4 cups of coffee here! Diaper and change of clothes for each child begins.

I always start with you-Oskar-as you are easier to handle: 1) you are currently smaller and can't speak 2) a little tickle under the armpits and you are happy to have a quick change....this has become more difficult as you have transformed from my mellow-Buddah baby to a crawler. This has caused havoc and ruined your sister's life but for me it just means I have to pin you down because you have eyed a plug in, stairwell, fire hazard that needs exploring. I do hope that at 15 you have all your body parts and both, or at the very least, one of your eyebrows still present.

Ila, you are next. I bribe you with TV, my phone, explain that a dirty bum is gross, show you a new-cute outfit, tap dance, bring in a Zebra and David Hasselhoff to distract you BUT still you freak out.  Right now you're 16 and most likely think everything is yucky and gross and "girls don't fart" BLAH BLAH BLAH-well little lady you fought me tooth and nail every day to keep your dirty diaper on- to the point where I now just lay a leg across you to get it over with!

Now that Oskar is crawling, and your life is destroyed beyond repair, I have to constantly watch you. If my sweet boy so much as looks your way, casts a casual glance in the direction of your play-a yelp escapes your mouth "OSKAR NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He may be 15ft away from you-but that doesn't matter.  Now, 16 year old you thinks you're pretty darn smart. So smart you most likely think you could live on your own or even start university tomorrow... let me ask you then "What is the IQ of the person that believes her brother has a super power that allows him to magically look at your toy "with his eyes", remove this toy from your death grip "with his eyes", and bring it to him???????" Just Saying!

I will fast forward to the end of the day and remind you that this morning we fought to get your green jammies off and now we are fighting to put them back on.  I do believe that 1 outfit is all you need or want-think of this the next time you ask for money to buy Justin Bieber vintage wear.

....Oskar I am sure you are gloating that currently this really isn't about you-careful son!  Today I dressed you in a onsey-or better yet a BODYSUIT! Get off your high horse or I will pull out pictures and bring them out the next time your friends are over!

If you think I am emotional, irrational, a horrible mom please remember YOU CREATED THIS MONSTER!

Marriage and Other Blunders

On the eve of my 4th wedding anniversary, I feel that it is only right to address this to you kids, and to tell you what is really happening with your parents while we try and raise you into happy, normal human beings.  I know that 30 years or so from now, when you are each having your first child, I will lie (or possibly forget) and tell you that things were amazing and that children didn't change a thing...and that kids... is utter crap!

The mystique of marriage and sharing 2 childless years with your father was no preparation for what was to come. We spent those short years in a haze of pressed clothing, romantic dinners, quick-spontaneous weekends away- until our life was throat chopped by a plus sign (planned of course).  How naive we were to think that we could keep the facade alive during pregnancy and after the birth-How were we to know that freedom and romance was about to be Genie Bueller (Ferris's sister) high kicked, karate chopped, and box shot into oblivion!

We had had a non verbal agreement about passing gas, hygiene and the like. We put our best faces on for each other-went for runs and worked out together. This chapter was slammed shut the first time the pregnant belly decided she controlled things. No longer was your father cuddling me on the couch-instead he was across the room trying to be free of my awful omissions.  Gradually the tight jeans were thrown in a bin marked "DREAM JEANS" and put in storage. Gone was the possibility of painting toe nails or tying up shoes.  It is not romantic, no matter what some rom-com tells you, to be in a store with swollen feet and to have to ask your husband to untie your shoes...all the while hoping that you don't fart while his face is dreadfully too close.

This, still, was not the worst of things to come.

Nothing takes the sex drive out of a marriage faster than coming home from the gym to explain to your husband that no you didn't sweat THAT much, that in fact at 8 months pregnant and still teaching a step class that you had IN FACT peed your pants while working out and that NO ONE seemed to mention this-and you always felt that pressure "down there" so NO you really hadn't noticed until the class was already complete. No, I was not the "mythical" horny pregnant lady that exists in men's movies to help them take the step into fatherhood by promising endless sex-if I couldn't see or control my bits anymore why should anyone else have exploring rights!

After you both arrived things were even more mountainous than the "getting ready." Suddenly all we wanted to do was hold, look at, check to see if the baby's breathing, show off the baby etc. Gone was the clean house-replaced instead by the forensic crime scene of cheerio dust and obvious struggle-why is it so hard to change a wiggling baby's diaper? At first we forgot about being a couple and instead were the parent's of Ila and then Oskar.  We proudly took thousands of pictures and emailed, FB'd them out-taking credit for how cute you each were-omitting the countless funny looking shots. We over-looked the exhaustion because of our little bundles of JOY...then we each, in turn, woke up after difficult nights-clad in spit up, poop under finger nails, unshowered and not caring-we realized, that yes, we needed a night out-just us! Instead of the 8pm reso-we opted for the 530. Headed down and enjoyed a liquor less (who needs a hangover when you have a 4am wake up call) dinner with the Calgary over 70 crowd.

1.5 hours later we were safely home-babysitter confused but paid-ready for bed.

You see kids-our new romance was being in bed asleep before 8pm.  Usually with kids between us-or with us in separate rooms cuddling with a little mattress tyrant. Romance was putting dibs on grocery shopping-so you could get out of the house and leave the kids with the sore loser. Romance was nap-time where one of you needed to be cuddled to sleep (of course who could help falling asleep as well). Romance was not having to participate in bed time routines. Romance was having 5 seconds alone to go to the bathroom without someone sitting on your lap!

Instead of subtleties-Sex was blatantly put on the table-"Do you wanna? They're asleep-MOVE MOVE MOVE!" We learned that everyone knew what this "new sex-life" was like-even the police man who let us off of a U Turn ticket when my husband explained that he was rushing home because I had just said yes there would be LOVIN TONIGHT! He looked at the two sleeping babies in car seats in the back, at me-smacked the trunk and tipped his hat as we sped away.

This was-is the new life. The better life. One where your floor is a toy minefield. Where your addiction to cigarettes turns into an unhealthy relationship with fishy crackers. Where you are woken by giggling and tiny footsteps. Where, when you are angry at each other, instead of yelling or slamming doors you spell out A-S-S-H-O-L-E and B-I-T-C-H. And still you quickly forget because your kids are having a tickle party-and who can stay mad when there is an opportunity to payback the little bugger who made you pee during a repeater knee. Where we must stand as a united force against you two or crumble alone! 4 years and we have a marriage full of joy, laughter, happiness, tension, exhaustion, frustration-exactly how marriage, and parenthood is intended to be!

Loot Bags and Unicorns

As my daughter's first birthday approached I was certain that I had to throw something large-something that was special and would be remembered therefore I invited everyone I knew-all my friends and my husband's; included family and the like!  Of course the one element missing from this list was Ila's friends-being only 1 she didn't have any- so that left more room for my friends.  (OH dear-will her wedding guest list be the catalyst to end our relationship when I try to invite people she doesn't know????) Maybe the first birthday is really about the MOM-you come, you eat, and ultimately you praise the Mama for how cute, how sweet, and oh how smart her little one is.  

With Ila clad in a beautiful Spring dress, we started the party.  I pretty much ignored the birthday girl as I ran around trying to make sure everyone was having a good time.  In her moment to shine, The Birthday Cupcake-I forgot to gather the troops and it wasn't until my Aunt whispered to me(during Ila's first intro to sugary icing) that I realized that we forgot something. "Shouldn't we sing???" OH SHIT---YES YES we should sing!  It was haphazard, off key, and at the end of the day I figured that we should have got a cake, a camera with a timer, a card-board-cut-out clown and taken one family photo of a fake birthday-she wouldn't have been the wiser and I wouldn't have thrown a party for myself for her birthday.

Over the second year of her life I swore that I would not get swept up in the craziness of the "Birthday Mom".  At the gym, Mom's groups, and in the grocery store I would overhear Moms discussing elaborate birthday parties for their children: petting zoos, elephant visits, climbing walls and water slides, clown visits, cirque du soleil and so on and so on.  Secretly, I believe that every Mom wants to be envied for how creative and expensive her party is-How she "wows" the other Moms and puts their kid's birthday parties to shame.  What a coo to be talked about in the locker room, "Did you hear about Kim's party, they gave out diamonds and a live unicorn in the loot bags."

I set out to have an ordinary, quiet party with Ila's friends from our weekly playdates.  My goal was that this year she would actually enjoy her party. I decided on a messy craft and the beloved ice cream cake to make her heart flutter-I didn't decorate and instead assumed she would rather just play with the guests. 

The night before her party I went to my cousin's daughter-Brooklyn's 4th birthday party! This was where things began to go array...what seemed like a normal-low key event was instead a Build a Bear party. Are you F'ing kidding me?! Each child got to select a beautiful stuffy and then stuff it, adding a heart and a star for a wish. Both my kids were given a HUGE stuffed animal-one that I would have killed for when I was a child. Oskar was even included-did that mean I was to include babies in my activity tomorrow? Should I be giving out baby appropriate loot bags? Oh crap-there would be a detour to Walmart on the drive home.  Of course I was naive, thinking this was it.  I over looked the indoor slide, the jungle gym mats every where to play, the huge play house in the back yard, the endless things to play with....the multiple snacks and full dinner served....the booze for parents-the variety of alcohol t ensure that each parent sufficiently enjoyed themselves. (AHHHHHHH-we need Baileys and coffee liquors-note to self).

AND THEN A LOOT BAG! WHAT THE F!!!!! Didn't we already get a Bear-didn't my 9 month old baby, who can't speak, get a Bear???? Now a loot bag-I casually looked to my husband to explain that this birthday girl's loot bag would need to be JACKED up tomorrow-we could make sure that no other kids saw what we gave her....did we have a live baby she could have or puppy....maybe even a car???

As if things weren't bad enough, as if I already didn't feel like a failure of a mom-totally letting my two year old down-HE showed up. A cop, the child's uncle-fully dressed in his uniform (little boys in awe everywhere-even adult men a little spellbound). He hadn't come alone-NO- he brought his companion-the BELOVED POLICE DOG.  Each child was lined up to have a chance to meet Trooper, the police working dog! Of course I couldn't help notice a few dads falling into line as well...

 "Eric, get Sesame street on the phone-we need Elmo!"

Maybe she was tired? Maybe she wasn't feeling well? Maybe she wasn't in the party mood? But let me be frank-my darling two-year-old cried about the craft I prepared for her to do, she cried about the people who came to her party, cried about the food, became hysterical over our singing, refused the ice cream birthday cake and in the end hated every aspect of her party EXCEPT the plastic whistle and Rhythmic gymnastics ribbon (that had come in Brooklyn's loot bag)!

The Gym and Mommy Brain

"They" say that while a woman is pregnant and then sleep-deprived with a new born that she suffers from the clinical disorder- Mommy Brain.  At first I thought that this was ridiculous-I wasn't forgetful-I had in fact stopped caring about everything but myself and getting that baby out of me.  I no longer cared about whether my belly hung out the bottom of my shirts (although my students were most likely traumatised by this).  I no longer cared about my friend's plights with men, work, anything...I was a pregnant asshole!

The moment I realized that I was actually ill-that my bright mind had been sabotaged by a 7lb tyrant was on my first day back at the gym after my first child.  I have been teaching classes since high school and have always felt at home in any gym and fitness room-why should this day be any different.

Donning my biggest clothes and making a sports bra out of a wood shelf and leather straps I headed to the gym to just "test the waters."  As I strolled through the doors I became arrogant-over-looking the fact that people were not sure if I was pregnant still, obese, or a new mom....the spit up on my shoulder and shit underneath my fingers nails should have been an obvious tip!

I strolled by the Spin room-hmmm totally packed! Well-this instructor must be awesome to pack a gym at 11 am....I would try this class.  Because I am an instructor, and a complete idiot, I made my way past the front row heading to the bike directly in front of the instructor (who was not present yet).  Old habits die hard and I figured-at least this way I would not cheat my way through this class. 

I fiddled with my bike seat, gears, set my water in the holder, and boarded PURE HELL!  I began "warm up" peddling-better known as passing the time so you don't have to chat with anyone until the class starts.  Still pleasantly unaware of the other members of this class-my eyes were forward-I was clueless.  Slowly, the quiet drone of male voices increased...did I not hear one female in this class????  Where the hell was I? I looked to my right and then sheepishly to my left. Oh you have GOT to be kidding me-how is this possible-how did I not see that the whole room was filled with men.  I took a long, discreet look at the gentleman's legs beside me-it just kept getting better.

"Are you guys professional athletes?"

"We're Flames!"

Finding Out and So On

I would love to say that when I found out I was pregnant with Ila that Eric and I held each other, that there were fireworks behind us while we cried with excitement. Instead, I looked at that plus sign in total disbelief, walked out of the bathroom, and threw that stick at my husband.  It is obvious to everyone, I am sure, that I am not only very romantic, but also handle the knowledge of change very well. I, of course, headed to the store to buy more tests and proceeded to spend my day peeing in the bathroom.  YES I was thrilled but terrified....What God, Stork, Leprechaun, Magic Bean would give a Jackass like me, like us, a baby??????

I mean, I was great at advice-not taking it.  Great at talking-but listening.....Great at doing exactly what I wanted-whenever I felt.  Please Lord do not let me fuck up this kid like I am sure I have with the countless teens I have taught!!!!

You'd think by baby number two I would handle the "finding out" a little better. Instead, I sat holding my 5 month old daughter on my lap, staring in complete horror, at the plus sign.  This time I began to sweat-this poor second baby has me to contend with-poor kid! It was worse the second round because I was already well aware of my failings in parenthood-come on who yells at a 4 month old teething baby?! At least I still looked 8 months pregnant-if it weren't for the pee-test I might have been able to go to delivery never knowing-just thinking I was a lumpy Mom...Maybe even deliver in Walmart???

It's interesting though how the first pregnancy you plan, plan, plan. Discuss names, design the bedroom, buy, buy, buy, talk to everyone about your baby, buy stocks in Baby Einstein and Toys R Us, rub and talk to your belly-savor every moment.  Ila's room was finished by the time I was 6 months pregnant-stocked with diapers and wipes and clothes-she began to sleep in it 3 months before her brother arrived. Oskar's has yet to be completed-we may move before this ever happens!

Oskar, I am doing my best to give you the "second-child-syndrome" that so many, including myself suffer from.

How I Met Your Father

March 31, 2007

Work, Wax, Home, Shower, Get Ready, Meet Friends, Head to Pub, See Guy, Play it Aloof, Watch Him, He Dances, Approach, Chat, Get Okay From Twin Brother, Kiss, Leave to Next Venue, Confuse Friends Who Are Unaware there are Two, Go for Supper, Leave Before Dinner Arrives, Say I Love YOu, Buy a House, Elope In Vegas, Decide To Have a Baby, Get Pregnant, Really Get To Know Eachother, Have Said Baby.........

and so it begins .....

Of course kids when you ask in the future I will tell you that we met at a church/work/friend's picnic and that we courted, never drank, waited until we were married before having sex or living together, and that through it all we knew we were responsible soul mates!