Life with an Alien

I'm not sure when it happened, but one night I tucked my Angel Face into bed. In the morning someone else was in her place.

The hair and eyes looked the same. The voice sounded the same, but abruptly changed to a distorted, whiney screaming. About everything. Since that day, things have not been the same around here.

I expect the whining--that's just a kid thing designed to pay us back for all the things we did to our parents. Whining I dispise, but I can live with. The over the top reaction to everything is what sends us all running for cover waiting for it to be over.

Friends with grown kids reminisce about their kids' teenage years. I listen intently to their descriptions because they sound vaguely familiar. Its like living with an alien they say. You should just shake hands and make friends--they will be here for a while they tell me. A few years, maybe.

My quivering lip is mistaken for sadness at my baby growing up. Really it's just the thought of "a few years, maybe". They are talking about teenagers. I'm not.

7 is the new 16. Someone could have told me.

Where There's Smoke, There Are No Mosquitos

Made our traditional maiden camping voyage for the 2011 season.

Traditionally it snows on us on May long weekend. It's just part of the charm of camping at this time of year. This year was different, though. Nope. No snow. Just rain and wind. Then it got to the mid 20s (celsius for any US readers). It was beautiful on Saturday and even Sunday was warm inspite of the cloud cover.

There were only two problems this weekend. Mosquitos. Pesky, buzzing blood suckers who turned the kids faces and necks into connect the dot maps. Hated to do it, but had no choice--went for the full on bug spray with heavy DEET concentration--yup. I broke out the Deep Woods Off.

Before you chastise me for putting that stuff on my kids, I tried the lower level kids stuff. It didn't work. These were not regular mosquitos. They were the killer bees of mosquitos. They swarmed the truck when we pulled up. Then they swarmed us. I'm not kidding. You didn't dare open your mouth because they would choke you in a second. It was seriously worse than Manitoba in mid July.

Really, I hold the province of Alberta responsible. They instituted a fireban, so we couldn't even get a smoldering fire going to smoke the mosquitos out. You are supposed to come home from camping stinking like a campfire mixed with bug spray. Honestly, its hot! Truly, camping without a camp fire is like smoking without a cigarette--its just not the same. I'm guessing here--I don't smoke!

Work From Home Lunacy

I've learned a some things by working from home. In addition to learning that only a lunatic tries to work when kids are at home and awake, here's another....

I have learned that IKEA kitchen tables are really, really sturdy. Any time I took a work phone call my kids would wait a minute or two to see if I would be more than a few minutes.  Then when the time was just right....wait for it...they would jump on the kitchen table. I don't mean hop up on it, I mean step onto it with their dirty little feet and start jumping like its a trampoline. Together. At the same time. Their heads just missing the kitchen light that hangs over the table, but the breeze still making it sway. Somehow they avoid falling right off with the skill and precision of a circus performer.

There I am trying to pay attention to my client and sound professional. All the while I'm wildly waving them off the table and giving my very best crazy mom look to get them off. Mouthing "GET DOWN" in full shout. It failed. Every single time. Because really, what else was I going to do?

"Yes, very important client/colleague, would you please hold--yes, I just have go scream like a banshee at my children and lock them in the closet so I can finish this call. Thank you."

Somehow that doesn't sound right. Then they would hear the telltale words--the clue the fun was about to end. As I closed my phone call and said goodbye, the words weren't out my mouth a nanosecond and they were off the table and back to playing with their toys.

Kids are brilliant--and they have the memory of a knat for anything they have done wrong. The looks of complete confusion and "Who us? When? Doing what?" were Academy Award performances.

For a split second I think I've imagined the whole thing. Until the phone rings and the excited anticipation is palpable. I see them silently exchange an entire conversation with their eyes as they plan their ascent and their escape routes.

Yes, I have learned that to work from home with children around definately requires special tools. Phones, faxes and computers with internet. But most important is a very sturdy kitchen table. I would never have guessed.

Green, Green Grass of Home

Once upon a time a family had a lovely back yard. It had beautiful grown trees that towered over the yard offering just the right amount of shade and breeze on a hot summer day. The only problem with the yard was the lawn. Because of the shade, the grass was difficult to grow.

The family invested in new dirt and all new sod. They were ecstatic with their lush grass and its deep, deep green colour. Finally! But the joy was short lived as the next year the grass came back, but thinner. Dirt and seed, but only a few blades came in. They babied and pampered that section of the yard. Still no grass. "Next year will be different", they consoled themselves.

It will be different all right. This year the family will have a nice shaded area with a beautiful view of this:





 Which covers up this hole--this is partially filled in. I'm sure it's half way to China and I don't know where the rest of the dirt went. Maybe he ate it. 

Gateway to China

 I'd be ok with that if I wanted to go to China via underground tunnels. And I wish Nakoda wouldn't grin so smugly about it:


Expert Excavator

 Grin away, Nakoda. I'm looking into renting you out to excavation companies--to help pay for the replacement dirt when you stop digging (and you will). Anyone else need some holes?  I'm happy to share!

We All Fall Down

Yep. Every single one of us will fall. It might be career related or life related, but we all will fall. What happens next is what separates the strong from the faint of heart.

We venture into parenthood with a trunk load of happy stories about how children complete you, your life and your family.


computerclipart.com

While all of those things are true, they also complete the side of you that you genuinely do not care to know.

It's that side that has the most awful thoughts and seems to be completely lacking in rationalization. Children have the most unusual skill set. They can simultaneously fill you with joy and rip apart your sanity until you are reduced to a heap on the floor babbling something about doing this by choice. 

All at once, every plan to be the perfect, most patient, caring and nurturing parent ever born fall to the floor and lay in a puddle of tears. My tears. I've broken and am ready for the straight jacket. And then they stare at me in silent disbelief, completely unsure what to do. Do they dare poke the bear?

They muster all their empathy into one simple statement: "Mommy, when are you going to get up and make us a snack?"   A stronger person would just stay on the ground.

Husha, husha we all fall down.

Who Walks Who?

After we drop my daughter off at school, my son and I head home to walk the newest addition to the family. The last few walks have been tough because my son doesn't want to walk that far. He whines in that grate-on-your-last-known-nerve way that only kids can--for the whole 45 minute walk. Walk with me a minute:

Him: "I can't go any more"
Me: "We've only gone two houses. You can go farther."

Him:  "I can't walk farther"
Me: "Are you sure? You're a big boy who can do anything you want to."

Him: "I'm too tired" followed quickly by  "My legs are just tired"
Me: "But you did a four hour hike at Nahahi Ridge last year. And you are bigger and stronger now!"

Him: "Piggyback me, please? You can do it, Mooooooom!"
Me: "I can't walk Nakoda AND piggyback you--Mommy might drop you."

Him: "It's just because I'm so tired." (every syllable stretched as far as possible).
Me: "You shouldn't get up at 6am."
Him: "But Mooooooooooooooooooooom!" with full body flailing and head thrown back at an unnatural angle.

So I figured out the perfect solution: have him ride his bike. He loves to ride his bike! That will fix it. Nope.  I think he whined more. I tell him we are too far from home for me to walk his bike so he needs to ride it.

"Help me, Mom. I need a push." his sweet boy voice says with eyes glistening in plea. I melt.

Picture it: The dog walking beside me on the right. Me bending to the left, half jogging, pushing his bike most of the way home. At least Nakoda got 45 minutes of walking in--and I have new muscles to target in my workouts.

I was smarter the next day: the wagon--that will work! We had a whine free walk, I think.

The wagon is this green machine with horrible hard plastic wheels that vibrate over every pebble in a way that sends seizmic ripples up your arm. It amplifies every single rock, twig or ant it rolls over. It is noisy. So noisy that the dog keeps his ears down the whole 50 minute walk.

Is this really better than whining? Marginally. Every so often the wagon clips my heels then Nakoda's.

I tell myself the exercise is for the dog.  He needs the exercise to be happy.  It's to burn off his energy.

So why am I the one that is so tired?!

Life Immitates Art

Sometimes, there just are no words! Really, I couldn't make this up.

Kudos to the clever soul who put this together and put it on Facebook.

A Moment of Weakness

You know those moments when you think something sounds like the best idea ever? Then a while later you ask yourself: What was I thinking??? I'm living it now...

My whole family has been hounding me lately for a pet. Not  gold fish, a bird or any other caged animal. A "real" pet. My son wanted a kitten--but my husband doesn't like litter boxes because then the poop is in your house. Everyone agreed they wanted a dog or a puppy.

"A puppy?!" I thought to myself. "Are you nuts? I'm still recovering from baby sleep deprivation!" They are all crazy. I ignored them for a long time.

I countered with the ever popular winning arguments: they are expensive, they shed, they are a lot of work, they poop all over the yard.  Nothing worked. Maybe because secretly, I wanted one too. It seemed reasonable. We started to really think about getting a pet.

Everyone at least agreed not to put mom through Puppyhood right now. I'm too tired and too busy. I thought that was great because it would limit our choices. I mean really, how would we ever find a dog that was right for us that wasn't a puppy?



Looking at the Cochrane Humane Society web page yielded this adorable face.

I should mention that I find it physically impossible to go into a shelter and come out empty handed. I thought my husband understood that about me...apparently in 11 years of marriage that hadn't come up.

We called to make sure he wasn't adopted. Of course, he wasn't. We went to see this mush ball of fur and doesn't he come straight to the kids and lay at their feet. Hmmmm...OK so he's cute and furry. But he's big--about 50 pounds of dog. Neither of my children weigh 50 pounds yet. We play with him. We walk him. No pulling and no barking--he has some manners. He can sit and shake a paw. He's very charming.

Two hours later paper work is filled out and we go to leave without him (they have a rule that doesn't allow same day adoptions). Despite the valiant effort of a good friend to dissuade me. Both kids are sad to leave him behind and my son cries on my shoulder. My daughter says "He's the missing piece of our family, Mom." Well, who can argue with that?

My moment of weakness is named Nakoda.

He is home with us now. And I will spend my work time cleaning up dog poop and putting my flower beds back together.

What was I thinking?!