Tag: humor

My Five Rules for Bedtime

Bedtime, right?

When our oldest was a baby I had visions of cuddly story time, quiet chats as we put our little guy to bed, maybe even some insightful conversations about his day.

No.

Is that happiness I hear?
Do I hear happiness in here?

There are moments of sweetness, of course. Who doesn’t enjoy being asked, “why are your arms so squishy?” or “can you leave now?” or “Are you going out? You’re not wearing yoga pants so you must be going out?” It’s just like I always pictured.

Trying to get four energetic boys ready for bed is how I burn off all the Oreos I eat. Even if I pace it out and try man-to-man versus a zone approach I still end up looking like Miss Hannigan.

And so, I present to you My Five Rules for Bedtime.

1. Leave Mommy’s shoes alone. I don’t mind if you try them on, but not when you should be brushing your teeth and definitely not when that’s all you’re wearing.

He is surprising agile in those
He can strut around in those better than I can. So proud.

2. Don’t eat the toothpaste. If you stumble upon a dried up, clumpy mound of white pasty goodness, leave it alone or toss it in the garbage, but please do not eat it. Or if you can’t resist, wait until I leave the room.

3. Farting during the bible story. No. Ditto for prayers.

4. No naked running. No naked hurdles. No naked dancing. No naked — look, just put some clothes on.

5. One brother on the toilet at a time.

——–

Your turn – bedtime rules you have or wish you’d had – go.

Coffee Shopping Like a Real Grown-Up

Once upon a time I went to a real coffee shop without any kids.

This is that time.

You can read it over here at Coffee Shopper’s (some of my favourite Americans blog over there).

Be sure to follow them on The Twitter and their own blogs, too. The tea-drinking, coffee blogger, Elizabeth and her partner in crime and caffeine, Laura. They are good people.

The Change Your Name Store – In Review

If you go through life being called “Jananice” or “Janet” or “Which one are you?” (I do not have a twin, for the record) you contemplate changing your name. When my sister and I played we often took on new personas. Most often I chose Angie from that TV show (don’t pretend you don’t remember).

When it wasn’t Angie, we fought over who would be Ashley. I don’t know why. And that was when we weren’t reenacting episodes of “Solid Gold”.

The very talented, Leanne Shirtliffe, recently penned a children’s book The Change Your Name Store and I knew I had to have it. I thoroughly enjoyed her first book, Don’t Lick the Minivan and was anxious to see her handiwork with children’s literature. We were not disappointed.

Go. Buy it. Now.
Go. Buy it. Now.

This story follows the adventures of Wilma Lee Wu who decides to change her name. She finds the Change Your Name store where one can try on different names to find the right fit. The catch is that when you try one, you are transported to the country of origin. Love this.

As a parent of all boys, I appreciate that the main character is a spunky girl who does not fall into some of the stereotypes of young female heroines. As a teacher, I value the multiculturalism celebrated in this story along with the underlying theme of liking who you are. The rhyming narrative flows naturally and engages young and old.

The illustrations by Tina Kugler are fun and inviting. They capture the feel of the story and the characters just right. Our boys enjoy finding all the little details on each page. Wilma’s pet dog is an excellent addition and ALMOST makes me want to get a pet.

When asked what he liked best about the story, our seven-year-old replied, “that you get to visit the country when you try a name.” I agree. When asked what I should changed my name to, without hesitation he answered, “Babette”. Not bad, and definitely better than what they wanted to call their youngest brother (Boomer). I wonder what country Boomer comes from?

This book should be on your shelf.

The Super Effect

Mommy, I have a snack?

No, Little, it’s almost dinner.

But I SUPER hungry.

I SUPER not want to listen to you.
I SUPER not want to listen to you.

——-

Daddy, I have a popsicle?

They’re for after dinner.

But I SUPER want it now.

——-

I have a drink?

No, Little, it’s bedtime.

But I SUPER thirsty.

——-

I SUPER want a piggyback ride.

——-

I SUPER want to play the piano

It’s not your turn, buddy.

——-

I play on your iPhone?

No.

But I SUPER want to.

——

You take my shoes off, Mommy?

You can do it yourself.

But I SUPER not do it.

——-

I be excused?

You’re not done your food.

But I SUPER done eating.

——

I’m just going to start using this strategy, too. Sorry, I’m not doing yard duty, I SUPER don’t want to.

Nope, I SUPER hate cleaning toilets.

I’m just going to stay in bed, guys, because I SUPER love sleeping.

——–

What do you feel SUPER passionate about (or SUPER want to avoid)?

 

Dorothy Who?

They live among us.

They come in all colours, shapes, and sizes. From the outside, you’d never be able to tell.

They mow their lawns, go to work, enjoy the odd handful of M&Ms. They can carry on a normal conversation, have acceptable hygiene, and if asked, they’ll agree that leggings are not pants. But they aren’t like us.

You think you know people, but do you? They could be living in your house. You might have even married one.

In fact, it might be years until you learn the truth.

It might go something like this.

One evening your family is enjoying a meal outside when your youngest child points out how windy it is. You casually remark that you might all get swept up and taken to the Land of Oz. Your children giggle and then ask if you can watch that for the next family movie night. They turn to your husband and ask if it’s an appropriate family movie and he offhandedly replies, “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it.”

You're off to see the who of the what now?
You’re off to see the who of the what now?

He’s never seen it.

The Wizard of Oz.

He. Has. Never. Seen. It.

Ever.

Never, ever.

Hypothetically, that would be pretty awful. And one might need time to process a lot of life choices at that point. Hypothetically.

They are out there, guys. Be on your guard.

 

I'm sorry, did you say "never"?
I’m sorry, did you say “never”?

Kindergarteners: They Don’t Care

Yelling out the window is not a learning centre.

Neither is chasing a classmate with a spray bottle. Stop it.

Flushing play-doh down the toilet? Also not a centre.

Please don’t pet the tadpole.

We don’t save Lego creations, no, not even if you “put it down really gently” in the bin.

Kindergarten.

I love it. Another year is wrapping up and this time of year is my favourite. This is when we get to reflect on the growth and success of the past year. I’ve been teaching this age group for about 14 years, give or take a maternity leave or two (math is hard, guys). Every year I learn new things.

Have you ever noticed a kindergartener when he dresses himself? I want to live my life with that kind of “take me as I am” attitude. Very few people over age five can pull off sports shorts paired with a long-sleeved, plaid, button-down shirt. Or socks and crocs with a winter vest overtop a t-shirt. They don’t care. 

I dressed myself. Obviously.
I dressed myself. Obviously.

Some might say that kindergarteners have inflated egos and sense of self and they would be correct, but part of that is amazing. If you didn’t have a crazy ego you’d never think that coming in 8th in a race means you won. They don’t care.

Need a pick-me-up? Come to kindie gym and watch them run laps or do dashes from one end of the gym to the other. It is the best. It is physically impossible not to smile like a lunatic who ate too many Oreos when you watch them run their little hearts out with complete abandon. And their peers cheer them on and pat them on their backs regardless of how they performed. They don’t care.

This year I learned once again that being outside is better than just about anything. There are articles and books and jargon-filled resources that essentially all say the same thing: Magic happens when we learn outside.

Just going to do some writing on my own for a while.
Just going to do some writing on my own for a while.

 

Don't know the lyrics? No problem.
Don’t know the lyrics? No problem.

No matter if you are indoors or outdoors, kindergarteners will sing along with any song, even if they don’t know the words. Because they don’t care.

I think I need to care a little less, too (but not about flushing play-doh, seriously stop doing that).

_____________

South Meets North

lincolnlogs20140501-100

 

Okay, fella, time to head back.

Just a second. I need to process this. THIS outpost is on the Canadian side of the border, right?

Yup, it sure is.

lincolnlogs20140501-127

So that means they have unlimited maple syrup?

Yes.

Ketchup chips?

I guess so.

Bacon?

Well, Canadian bacon – yes.

Grrrrr…

Settle down, settle down – we need to go now, come on.

lincolnlogs20140501-64

I’ll leave when I’m ready, Wrangler. I need to hear more.

Maybe just tone it down a little, no need to get so excited.

What about poutine? 

I think that’s more of an East Coast thing.

Toques? Hockey? Smarties? Overly apologetic patrons?

Yes, yes, yes, and I guess so?

lincolnlogs20140501-152

 

But I’m tired of salmon. Every night it’s salmon, salmon, salmon. I could even settle for the cherub-looking forest ranger – he looks tasty.

He is not on the menu. Let’s go.

In a minute. So let me get this straight: this outpost has all those things plus they get free health care, Don Cherry, and ketchup chips? I don’t know what to with all these feelings!

lincolnlogs20140501-76

It’s true, they do have all those things.

Do they have running water? Heat? Drive-thru Starbucks? Cable TV?

They aren’t savages. Yes, of course.

If they have all of that, why would I bother going back? What does the US have to offer that I couldn’t possibly get in Canada?

Special edition Oreos. And M&Ms.

Start the Jeep, let’s go home.

lincolnlogs20140501-100

__________

All photos are property of Burrill Strong photography. This is the second collaboration Burrill and I have done.  You can check out this talented, bearded photographer at his blog and on twitter @sgtwolverine

Nope, I Just Dancing

Into the van, boys. We are going to Target!

Little, do you need to pee first?

No, I just dancing to music. It’s in my head.

Really? 

Yeah, I dance. See?

Never trust a preschooler with a reputation for peeing his pants. Even if he did use the facilities only ten minutes earlier. Against my better judgement, I didn’t force the issue and we took off to Mom Mecca: Target.

As we pulled into the parking lot, Little says in a tiny voice, “I wet.”

So many feelings! I was irritated that he peed his pants when he is capable of staying dry. I was peeved at myself for being irritated because I don’t tend to get upset with toilet training mishaps. I felt bad for his older brother who had brought his Lightning McQueen, velcro-closure wallet with him to buy a toy.

After checking the diaper bag and discovering no spare clothes (now I had to add Bearded Husband to my list of irritants) I had a plan of action.

Well, we’re going to buy you a pair shorts and you’ll wear those. AND YOU WILL LIKE THEM.

Now it was time for the big brother to jump into older and wiser sibling mode:

Little, you are going to have to wear whatever we buy, that’s what happens when you pee your pants.

Now, Little, when you pee your pants, Mommy isn’t angry, but you won’t be getting a toy.

Little, I will get a toy because she didn’t have to spend money buying me new shorts because my shorts are dry. I never pee myself.

You know, you peed your pants.photo-51

Our shopping trip was mostly uneventful after that. The boys got into a slight altercation in the sock aisle, but it was nothing a threat issued through clenched teeth couldn’t diffuse.

We chatted and giggled while we finished up our shopping. As we wheeled towards the till, my youngest piped up:

Mommy? I get a toy?

No, Little, I spent that money on new shorts since you peed your pants.

I so sorry. Please? You buy me a toy? I not always pee my pants anymore.

It might take me a while and several seasons of preschool life, but eventually I learn: Never trust an almost 3-year-old. Especially one who has perfected using his cuteness for evil.

Don’t feel bad for him, though. He did get to ride home in a “big boy booster” instead of his car seat. Oh, that’s because – wait, did I mention this already? He peed his pants.

———

Unfortunate shopping experience? Share. Bodily functions involved? Even better.

Aches, Pains, and Ginger Ale

I had already pushed my luck and stayed up later than I should have. Just as I was drifting off to sleep sometime after midnight a little voice cried out, “Mommy!” I hopped out of bed to discover my third born quietly crying in the bathroom. He was tired, hot, and the light was “too bright”. I comforted him and tucked him back into bed only to be beckoned once again a mere twenty minutes later with more tears.

This good-natured almost-five-year-old rarely complains. I did my best to find out what was bothering him and then he drifted back to sleep. This is where is all becomes fuzzy. At some point in the wee hours of the morning he succumbed to a stomach bug. My Bearded Husband and I agreed long ago that this clean-up was my department (don’t worry, he takes care of vermin and clogged drains) so he sweetly asked me for help when he discovered our boy covered in sick. It always amazes me how I can be yanked from a deep sleep and jump into decisive and efficient action. Not bragging, I’m really surprised at myself every time. I cannot recall how often this scenario repeated, but by 6AM I knew I would not be able to be an effective (or pleasant) teacher with so little sleep and a potential conduit of “bleh” coursing through my body. I called in my last remaining Family Care day.

When I got up for the first time that day (or was it last? I was so confused) my body cried out at the injustice. I tense up whenever one of the boy is sick so my entire upper back was knotted and turning my head was a challenge (just stay out of my peripheral vision boys and the world is your oyster today). I had that queasy feeling you get from pulling all-nighters, but those supply notes weren’t going to write themselves. In fact, I wrote them twice. Once for the wrong day, and once for the correct one.

We muddled through the start of our day surprisingly well. My little guy kept down his toast and ginger ale and seemed to be on the mend. Mid-morning, however, he had that drained and pasty look and told me he was cold. Nothing a good cuddle couldn’t fix, right?

He's a twitchy sleeper, that one.
He’s a twitchy sleeper, that one.

I gladly wrapped my arms around my boy and we sat quietly on the couch together looking at the family portraits on the wall. “I wish I was sick every day so then I could always get to have pop,” he told me just moments before he drifted off to sleep. On my lap. Curled up and snoring. That hasn’t happened in at least three years. My neck started to ache, my left foot fell asleep and I had an itch I couldn’t reach because my arm was pinned under my boy who all too soon will turn five.

And it was completely worth it.

Celebrating all of you who are the special someone to someone little. Or big.

Boom Goes the Dynamite

Here, kids - wave this fire around for a while.
Here, kids – wave this fire around for a while.

What better way to celebrate a former ruler than by having a day off work and lighting fireworks all weekend? Happy Birthday, Queen Victoria, we’re just going to have some pyrotechnics in your honour. No need to feel left out there, Canada. We’ll do the same for you on the first of July. Unless you’re our teenage neighbours who randomly fire them off throughout the summer, holiday or not. It’s 1am, people with kids won’t mind – little people sleep through everything, right?

This year we thought it might be fun to do an earlier celebration with like-minded neighbours. It might still be light out, but there’s no need to keep our young children up until well past 10 to cry about the loud noise and scary popping sounds.

Can you help?

Wanted: Fireworks Lighter
Must be a fast runner and calm around fire, combustible materials, and small children. Heckling is highly probable, so only applicants exhibiting superior patience levels will be considered.

A skills appraisal will be completed before hiring. This might include, but is not limited to, matches, lanterns, votive candles, and toddlers providing realistic sound effects while also shouting “it’s too loud” and then crying.

Compensation will be provided by the delight and joy given to others. And pop. Ok, pop and chips. Alright, pop and chips and other miscellaneous snack foods.

The successful candidate is responsible for providing own goggles.

Only serious applicants, please.

Save this little beauty for the last day of school. It's okay, we won't tell.
Save this little beauty for the last day of school. It’s okay, we won’t tell.

 

What’s your story? Ever been lit on fire? Had some fireworks remnants land in your eye? Yelled at teens behind your house to “keep it down! People are trying to sleep here!”