I Survived!

I've just finished crawling out from under a mountain of wet laundry, tents and sleeping bags. Like with every other camping trip, it rained the night before we were to come home. Why is it that I forget about the rain after a trip? It is kind of like how mothers 'forget' the pain of labour and do it all again. It isn't until you are into a heavy contraction that you say to yourself, "What on earth was I thinking!?"

The rain that showered us this trip cannot be described as a gentle sprinkle, a good soaking or a persistent downpour. I could have handled any of those. This rain was unlike anything I have ever experienced. It seemed intent to infiltrate every available space. Our industrial strength tarp was no match for this rain; it may as well have been tissue paper for all the refuge it provided. Rain spilled out from our camping barbeque and overflowed the fire-pit. Add to all of that, the most potent electrical storm I've ever witnessed. A non-stop light and thunder show for over 4 hours.

Do you know what the real phenomenon is though? It's not the severity of the storm. My children slept through it!!!! Let me explain why this is so shocking: My youngest is not known for sleeping. IF he goes through the night without waking, it is as close to miraculous as can be. My oldest wakes at the slightest of noises and remains so until morning. But, they slept through a thunderstorm that will most likely go down into the camping history books. It is not up to me to ask why. I will just remain forever thankful that they did sleep through it all. It's kind of like the rainbow at the end of the rain.

Give Me Strength...We're Going Camping

The van is packed and the food is ready. We're going camping and I think I've lost my mind.

As I write this, I have a bird's eye view of the kitchen where my fridge is sporting no fewer than five lists. Lists for what to pack, what to serve each meal, what to turn off, or on, before we leave. No where, on any of those lists, does it mention packing an extra dose of patience, but I know I'm going to need it. Patience or more alcohol than any human should endeavour to consume in one weekend.

My youngest started with the, "how many more sleeps?" question about seventeen sleeps ago. My eldest (she's a type A personality) has every nano second planned and organized right down to when she and I will play Uno at 7:15 on Friday evening. I contemplated packing a couple of juicy novels for my own reading pleasure, but who am I kidding, I won't have the chance to read.

I was revamping our first aid kit in preparation for our foray into the wilderness. I chuckled at the limited first aid kit my hubby and I had BK (before kids.) Now, I have every conceivable size band-aide, insect bite lotion, allergy medicine...you name it I've got it. Now, you might say I am being overly cautious, but you haven't met my youngest. At an early age we nicknamed him 'Crash.' If he could walk into it, trip over it, fall off of it, wedge himself under it, he'd do it. From the ages of 6 months to 4 and a half there is not a single picture where he isn't sporting a scab, bruise or scar on his head. That's my boy! A smart mom is prepared for every eventuality when she takes the family camping.

Will we have fun? Oh most definitely. Will we make memories to last a lifetime? Without a doubt. Will I need a vacation when we get home? You better believe it, but not until the laundry is done.

Just Like Cats and Dogs

If I need to referee another argument between the two short people in my life I am going to scream.

I swear they have a unique timing sensor implanted somewhere on their bodies. This sensor scans for the most inappropriate time and then signals the short people to begin their antics. If I could, I would isolate this mechanism and have it surgically removed.

Summer seems to increase their propensity to argue. It begins with the simplest of things and escalates with the speed of a rocket. I have the patience of a saint when managing the behaviours of other people's children. My voice stays calm as I encourage distraught children to a compromise and restore harmony once again. I can stop bad attitudes and smart mouth responses with a single steely glance, but with my own children, I'm sunk!

I'm beginning to think part of me is so wounded that my OWN children would behave in such ways. It leaves my defenses quaking as I work through my arsenal of behaviour management techniques. Maybe I need some new tricks, maybe they're just building an immunity to my methods? Whatever the reason, or combination of reasons, I'm not ready to admit defeat! I will rise like a phoenix from the ashes and triumph (even if it kills me.) I can't let them win....it's only the middle of July! Wish me luck.

I Don't Sound Like That....Do I?

"That is completely inappropriate.......I am disappointed in the choice you are making........I would be more than happy to play that game with you."

Wait a minute, those are my lines! Well they were until they were adopted by my eldest. She is eight and a half with the working vocabulary of a third year doctoral student. How does that happen?

As new parents we made a conscious effort not to 'talk down' to our children. In my line of work I see far too many young people seemly incapable of articulate speech. Who am I kidding, they seem incapable of more than one word answers. Truth be told, I work with some adults who avoid opportunities to engage in rich conversations. Oral communication is fast becoming a lost art. In the age of msn, twitter and hand held texting devices our society values brevity over quality and clarity. I might be in for a long listen when my daughter begins to retell her favourite part in a book or when she launches into a tale filled with imaginative characters and improbable situations, but I applaud her ability to express herself. I admit to occasionally cringing when she sounds like an adult, with her effective use of phrases and one liners, but I rest assured she can communicate. I pray it is a skill she takes with her as she wades into adolescence.

Children really are sponges. There is no doubt in my mind about that. My eldest is living proof that youngsters say what they hear, do what they see and are thirsty for knowledge. As the adults influencing and 'filling' our next generation we have to ensure we are providing the best quality fuel for their growing minds.

Loosing Teeth and Other 'Firsts'

I'm a little choked up today; my youngest just lost his first tooth. Talk about a big event in our house. First came the blood and the rinsing in the sink. Next, the hours spent staring in the mirror and poking his tongue through the gap. After that, we had to write to the Tooth Fairy requesting the privilege to keep this pearly white baby tooth. So why am I sentimental? I guess I am thankful I was there to see it (to pull it out, if the truth be told.) I could have been in a meeting, teaching a class or driving home from work, but I was granted an audience at the loss of my son's first tooth. So many 'firsts' are witnessed by someone other than a working mom. So many times we have to smile and pretend we're not crushed that we missed yet another of these special moments. At the end of it all, I'm sure we're the only ones keeping score. No one else remembers if we were there for the 'first tooth moments.' No one else beats us up over our absence. Why do we?

What do I want to be when I grow up?

My youngest just asked me, "Mom, what do you want to be when you grow up?" Funny, most questions can be answered with a flippant, no, yes, we'll see, maybe or NOT ON YOUR LIFE! but this one caught me off guard, for several reasons. Was I not already grown up? Wasn't I already 'something?'

What or who am I? To the two short people in my life I'm simply Mom. Not a fancy title for sure, but on a good day, the best job in the world. To my colleagues, I am a teacher, and this is an incredible privilege. To my husband I am many things, all at once. But, if I could choose again, what would I be?

There are so many possibilities: Antique dealer, gift store owner, tea room proprietor,

Hmmm, I guess I can explore the question of what I'll be when I grow up, when I grow up....if I grow up....should I grow up?

Summertime and the living isn't so easy....

Wow, what a great place to express my thoughts and share my experiences.

As a working mom I feel more like a juggler in a psychedelic circus. A juggler with far too many hats and not enough hands. I know, nothing new and there are plenty of women out there with the same struggle, which is why we need to stick together.

So, summer is here and for the moment, I have only one full time job. My children.......Yes, I do agree they are my most important and impressive accomplishment (on a good day) and they are a walking representation of my success (or lack there of) as a parent.

Explain to me how my 5 year old can turn "Mommmmmmmm" into the most dreaded word in the world, especially when it is followed by a, "she looked at me, touched me, breathed on me......?" It sends chills up my spine and cuts straight through to my last nerve faster than a finely tuned Ferrari. It is all exacerbated by our lack of air conditioning when the humidex is pushing 43 degrees. When does school start again?

But guess what? Tomorrow is a new day and I get to do it all over again.....oh joy!