I've Finally Discovered Child Labour!

I’ve long suspected that I am too soft on these kids of mine. I’m a stay-at-home mom with a Type-A personality who thinks that in order to get things done right, I should do it myself. And I wonder why I’m so exhausted and frustrated with the household duties? 

In the past, we’ve had half-hearted attempts at chore lists. My biggest downfall was not being consistent and insistent, letting things slide and then never getting things back on track. I often made things too complicated. Charts are great but we spent far far too much time choosing our stickers then actually getting things done.

Well, my children have had a rude awakening this week. I was inspired in part by a recent visit to a friend’s house whose dutiful children (aged 9 and 11) assisted with the dinner set-up and clearing with nary a rolled eye in sight. I was awestruck! How could I get a piece of this action, I wondered? It wasn’t long before I was dropping suggestions at our weekly family meeting and drawing up various lists of daily and weekly chores, hoping that I could get the kids to buy into a paradigm shift in our home.

When the children awoke today for the first day of school, they were greeted by their expected updated-for-the-new-year morning and evening to-do lists. The usual items were there: feed fish, brush teeth, empty lunch bag, homework, etc. But there was something different.

This year I included some fresh new items: clear breakfast dishes AND put them in the dishwasher, make sandwich and assemble lunch bag, clear dinner dishes AND put them in the dishwasher and...”daily chore: see chart.” I directed the puzzled minions, I mean munchkins, to a new addendum to the fridge clutter: a list of daily and weekly chores, divided among the three of them. I’ve kept it simple: unload the dishwasher, help with dinner, sweep kitchen floor daily and clean bathroom (with help), dust & vacuum main floor and wash kitchen floor weekly.

With some gentle and persistent encouragement this evening, I was positively amazed at what these 7 and 9 year olds are capable of contributing to the household! I enjoyed their company in the kitchen before and after dinner and was thrilled to not have to do every little thing myself. Eureka! I am kicking myself for not getting this started earlier but I am looking forward staying the course. I’m hoping that if the kids feel more like a contributing member of the household perhaps they’ll feel like contributing more. It’s a long shot but I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Who Wears the Pants In Your Family?

My 7 year old twin daughters share a room- and a dresser. They have a defined sense of ownership over each item of clothing but the ensuing mess in the drawers is a problem. Last night I spent an hour refolding each item, sorting them (who’s is this? who’s is this?? will you wear this??) and dividing the dresser drawers: one drawer for K’s shirts, one drawer for M’s shirts, etc.

Each of them own about 20 pairs of leggings of varying lengths and colours, not to mention skirts and dresses that I beg them to wear. They refuse to wear anything but skinny leggings. Even pajama bottoms are deemed “too loose.” I will add that they are about 50 inches tall and 45 lbs. soaking wet. The leggings tend to accentuate the beanpole look (perhaps this is the look that they are going for).

This morning they were thrilled to look into their neat and tidy dresser drawers to choose their outfits for the day. However, for the past 15 minutes I’ve heard nothing but arguing, pleading and negotiating through yelling and tears. And over what, you ask? The one single pair of long black leggings that are clean. Never mind the other 40 pairs of colourful leggings. No- they both insist on wearing the one pair of black leggings between them.

They tried (unsuccessfully) to have me mediate. I told them that I’m not wearing my striped referee shirt today and that they’d have to work it out. It pains me to hear my one daughter try to bribe the other with toys and books so that she can wear the leggings today but I know (hope?) that they’ll work it out.

Apparently in my house, it’s not who wears the pants that has the power, it’s who wears the black leggings that does.

Image courtesy of Sears Canada

Never Wake a Sleeping Mother

I am not a morning person. I never have been and I never will be. My parents know this. My siblings know this. My university room-mates know this. My friends know this. My husband knows this.

You would think that my children would know this by now.

I have discovered that to function at peak levels, I require a full 9 hours of undisturbed sleep. I know it’s a bit extreme. But left alone to sleep without interruption I will guarantee you that after 9 hours I will wake on my own, refreshed and ready to tackle the day with a smile on my face. Many people function well on less, some on as little as 5 or 6 hours a night. This person is not me.

This 9 hour block of time is my holy grail, forever out of reach ever since I conceived my son almost 10 years ago. Any pregnant woman will tell you that the hormones and body changes combined with the little person practicing soccer moves in utero is not conducive to catching decent winks. Once that baby is born you can forget about sleep for the next few years. 

But then these little creatures trick you. They lead you to believe that they have mastered the art of falling asleep and staying asleep for up to 13 hours at a time...until around the age of 6 1/2 years when they reach the developmental stage of the dreaded nightmare. And fear of the dark. 

For over a month now, my darling daughter K has been waking up at some point between 1:30 a.m. and 5:00 a.m. calling my name like a foghorn: Mooo-ooommm! Moooooo-oooooom! MOOOOO-OOOOM! I stumble out of bed like something undead to discover that she’s scared of...something. I’ve tried reasoning with her, comforting her, negotiating, threatening, shouting. These are not my proud mommy moments. As I mentioned, I am not a morning (or middle of the night) person. If you want to live, Do. Not. Wake. Me. Up.

I have tried putting her in my bed, an obvious solution for both of us you would think. Except for the fact that she insists on sleeping snuggled right up against me and the minute her twin sister finds herself in her room...alone... all hell breaks loose. Then I have two cranky girls, one refusing the leave my bed, the other refusing to sleep alone. And an extremely cranky mother to boot. So for now I’ve decided that she should stay in her own bed, full-stop. This means that I am up and down the hallway a hundred times, rubbing her back, trying desperately to persuade her to go back to sleep. And if it’s after 5am, there’s nothing doing. She will wake up her sister, there will be words exchanged, perhaps items thrown at each other, they will wake up their brother- and likely the poor neighbours on the other half of our semi-detached home. Everyone starts the day miserably. Except for K who can metamorphose into sweet chipper little thing the moment the sun rises. This morning (after at 4am wake-up), I came to the breakfast table to find my seat reserved by this:

She had made me a breakfast of toast with No Nuts pea butter and a glass of water chilled by a cooler pack from the freezer. How can I stay upset at that?

For now, I will continue to search for a solution and nap whenever I can to catch up on my elusive 9 hours. I will trust (and pray) that this phase will be short-lived. And I will thank the heavens for little girls- and coffee.

Lion Image © David Crippen | Dreamstime.com

The Dreaded "H" Word

My son is 8 years old and the world’s best procrastinator. He must have inherited this trait from me. He is one of those bright kids with “great potential” that frustrates the hell out of teachers (and parents) because if he doesn’t want to sit down and do the work required of him, he simply does not.

I’ll begin by saying that I am not the biggest fan of the amount of homework that children get these days. I don’t remember ever getting homework in primary grades and I’m sure that most adults don’t end their work day by eating a snack and flipping open their laptop to do more work the minute they get in the door. Energetic and growing kids need an opportunity to unwind, get fresh air, run around and get their ya-ya’s out. What they don’t need is to sit down the minute they get home from school to do more of the what they did in class (where they sat and did work most of the day).

That being said, homework is a reality in our world. I have chosen at this point to suck it up and help the kids develop good homework habits because I don’t think the homework conundrum is going away anytime soon. I try hard not to roll my eyes at the amount of homework they are given. All I can do is empathize (“it must be frustrating when you just want to play”) and work with them at making it enjoyable. I try to give them some outside play on the way home and make sure a snack is at the ready when they get in. My kids are vultures the minute they hit the kitchen- something about “not having time to eat lunch at school” (another post altogether). We’ve even installed a breakfast bar so there is another homework station within quick reach of Mom’s help or another snack.

What frustrates me the most is the amount of time my son spends sitting in front of his homework doing anything but. He breaks and sharpens his pencil about 30 times, asks for more food or another drink, fidgets and scribbles, taking 60 minutes to complete something that could have been done in 15. I try not to stand over him, encouraging/pleading for him to get it done. I try to gently remind him of the consequences (handing in incomplete work to his teacher who he likes and respects) but I can’t seem to find that inner motivation button. Trust me when I say that the reward system doesn’t work in our house (tried and failed numerous times). Sticker charts and bribes don’t resonate at all with him and I personally disagree with this approach. I don’t want to raise kids that will only participate in life because there is some kind of personal reward in it.

Last night L revealed that he had an art project due the next day. He also had other homework to complete before dinner and his Cubs meeting. That meant that he was up this morning, attempting to complete some pretty complex drawings and colouring before I hustled the three kids out the door for the bus. He didn’t finish it. And L loves to draw. He is passionate about it (not as passionate as he is about hockey but close). I often have to tell him to put away his sketch pad and pencils to go to bed. This should be an easy A for him. Instead, he tells me that his teacher says that he will be lucky to get a C+ in Art this term. I believe that it related to him not having good work habits and not completing his assignments on time. It feels a bit cruel when I know that he can do well but I appreciate where his teacher is coming from. He needs to learn that there are things required of us in life that aren’t pleasant but simply must be done in a timely manner (making dinner and doing laundry come to mind).

So I am biting my tongue, letting the chips fall where they may. We’ll find out what the teacher had to say and see if he gets an “R” on his assignment (I think it stands for incomplete but it’s in French so what do I know?). I'm going to go back to my Alyson Schafer books and scour her website for tips on dealing with homework (she isn't a fan of it either). We’ll sit down with L this weekend and try again to come up with better homework strategies together. And I will continue to search for that elusive inner motivation button. If I find it, I'll let you know!

Image © Reiulf Grønnevik | Dreamstime.com

Happy New (School) Year!

It’s been a while! We've had a nice long busy but relaxing summer, enjoying lots of northern get-aways and day-trips around Toronto. All three kids have learned to ride their bikes, thanks to a week-long camp at Pedalheads. And we have all gotten along well- for the most part. Finally, here it is just mere days from... the start of school! “The most wonderful time of the year” to quote a well-appreciated and overplayed commercial.

This is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. The day when all three kids enter full-day school and I suddenly have six and a half hours of ME time. Don’t get me wrong (and if you are a parent I know that you don’t), I love my children and I love spending time with them. But when you spend as much time with anyone as I do with my children, you’d also be anxious for a little breathing space.

I’ve always thought of the first day of school as my New Year’s Day. The memory of blank notebooks, freshly sharpened pencils, squeaky clean sneakers puts a bounce in my step. It’s a blank slate and a time of renewal. The crispness in the air, the crunchy leaves underfoot and a new year begins.

It’s time for a few resolutions: to get and stay organized, to stay on top of agendas and homework and reams of paper, to volunteer more in the classroom, to get the kids to make their lunches (a new resolution for this year).

I’ve learned a few lessons over the past school years. We’ve already printed our “Things to do in the morning” and “Things to go in your backpack” charts and posted them in bedrooms and at the front door. The dressers are organized, the kids have tried on pants which invariable shrink 2 inches the morning of the first chilly day. Extracurricular activities and our daily routine have been discussed. Homework plans are almost complete- most important as all three will have homework this year much to my dismay (but that’s another post). My next step is to draw up a list of lunch ideas with the kids and prepare our weekly chart to post on the fridge.

And me. What am I going to do with all my time?? At this moment with my to-do list for the next few days a mile long and not a minute to spare with three kids underfoot, I am fantasizing about the hours and hours of time to myself to read, to write, to drink coffee, spend time with friends, work out, nap.

But will those six and a half hours fly by if I’m not organized and will I end up feeling useless and frustrated if I’m not accomplishing a multitude of tasks? I am a chronic list-maker (if you haven’t already noticed) and that combined with my first-born personality traits means that I have to feel like I’m accomplishing something or I end up feeling like I’ve accomplished nothing at all. Talk about demotivating! My non-exhaustive to-do-in-September list includes gutting out the “not-so-spare room” (aka the office), purging and organizing ALL the toys and books, cleaning out and organizing the closets and cupboards, tackling a million other little jobs around the house, blogging regularly (I promise!), improving my French, becoming a Sparks leader and preparing fantastically nutritious and delicious meals in advance.

What will happen? Will I over-schedule and exhaust myself or will I turn into a couch-potato, hanging out in cafes, gossiping with other SAHMs and eating bon-bons by the case? Or will I hopefully end up somewhere in between? What is going to make me feel fulfilled? Please stay tuned...

Image © Natalia Klenova | Dreamstime.com

Just Like Riding a Bike

Image  © Eti Swinford | Dreamstime.com

I have been remiss lately on posting and I do apologize to my faithful readers. What started out as a hectic schedule turned into mental fatigue which was then compounded by some emotional stuff and suddenly I found myself feeling like I had forgotten how to ride a bike. When I was posting somewhat regularly, I found my internal dialogue sounding like a blog post. As with any kind of routine once you fall out of it, it seems hard to get back into the swing. But just like riding a bike, I am jumping back on and pedalling with all my might, hoping that I will remember how to.

Yesterday was Mother’s Day. With all of my choices of how to spend my day, I wanted us to go to our local Canadian Tire store and buy some shiny new bikes for the kids. Over the years, my children have endured hand-me-down and second-hand bikes and never complained about the rust and scratches. But this year is different. Now we are at a turning point in our bike-riding lives.

My nearly 8-year old son has asked for a 2-wheel bike. I tried to teach him a couple of years ago and it only took one accident where I lost my balance and grip, let go of his bike seat and he wobbled, skidded and fell hard on the asphalt of our back lane. My bad. Last year, he cautiously tried his hand with his rusty old 2-wheeler in the safe confines of our backyard. I could tell he was ready to stretch his bike-riding wings. My almost-6-year-old twins have clearly outgrown their 12-inch bikes with training wheels. The dead giveaway was their knees hitting the handle bars and watching their long legs pump furiously to get those wee tires in motion.

After a lovely breakfast in bed and a few errands, we hit Canadian Tire. Apparently we weren’t the only parents with this brilliant idea. Perhaps the fact winter ended only 2 days ago might have something to do with this rush to get bikes. Nevertheless, after some quick negotiations (the girls simply cannot have the exact same bike) we found ourselves wheeling three shiny new bikes to the cash register.

When we returned home, the kids literally grabbed their bikes from the van and pleaded to ride them straight away. We have a small dead-end lane behind our house and although it has a small incline and some nasty potholes, we thought it was a good place to start. My son grabbed his bike helmet, hopped on his bike and...rode!

It was unbelievable to watch him riding away from me down the lane, like a baby bird who had learned to fly. I started to get teary-eyed while cheering and applauding like crazy. When he turned around and rode back to me, the look on his face, his cheeks flushed with excitement and his eyes glowing with self-pride made my heart nearly burst. This is what being a parent is all about. Giving your children the foundation and the encouragement to get out in the real world, stretch their wings and soar.

It was the best Mother's Day gift I could have received.

Turning The Frown Upside-Down

Image © Ivaylo Sarayski | Dreamstime.com

I usually get the urge to write when things aren’t going well. I suppose it’s a natural impulse to vent frustrations on paper (or a computer screen). It is often easier to complain than to sing praises when things are challenging. After a particularly difficult couple of days with the kids, I can feel a rant or three coming on. But I’m going to try something different and turn this frown upside-down. If you will indulge me, I’m going to talk about what I love about my kids.

I have three very different children with their own unique dispositions. In fact, my identical twin girls are so different in their personalities, I can’t for the life of me figure out how people mix them up.

L is my first-born. I think back to when he was a baby and all those precious moments when it was just me and him. I recall thinking how difficult it was in those early days of diaper changes and all-night feedings. But it was just me and him when my husband was working- and little did I realize how easy things were in comparison to adding twins to the family.

Back then, I was all about attachment parenting. I fed him when he was hungry, cuddled him when he needed it (even if that was all day). I don’t regret it one bit even if it meant rocking him to sleep until he was 2. He is now approaching 8 years old and he is a confident, happy, curious, active child. He plays hockey and soccer with a passion. He asks a million questions and has mastered the art of googling. One minute it’s about space and the planets and how hot it is on Mars, the next he is looking for art that he likes: landscapes and street scenes with bright colours capture his interest. He wants to know about the Arctic and climate change and how an airplane works. He draws comics, lives to read and loves to tell a good joke.

M and K are my babies. They were born when L was almost 2 years old and my days of leisurely attachment parenting were over in favour of a more scheduled approach. They are almost 6 years old now and will be going into grade one in the fall. They are identical twins but of course to their mother, they look and behave (even sound) as different as night and day.

K is precocious, athletic, gregarious and high-energy. She has a fantastic sense of humour and attacks life with a gusto that is contagious. She is already reading well likely because it was a challenge that she wanted to master. She has developed a fondness for cooking and is usually by my side with her apron on, getting her hands right into whatever I am preparing for dinner. She is usually the “director” of whatever she is playing with others which is often some variation of school or office or store, anything that she thinks of as “grown-up.”

M is my introvert. She is a perfectionist and therefore is cautious, taking her time to try something new until she is sure that she can do it “right.” Both girls are taking ballet and it is there that M is transformed into a confident and skilled dancer. She is highly sensitive to others’ emotions and can usually be found playing with one or two close friends instead of a large boisterous group where K usually is.  She loves to be read to and to tell wonderfully imaginative stories. For a relatively quiet child, she has a fantastically bold approach to fashion, creating great ensembles and mixing things up with accessories and footwear. I only wish I had half of her fashion sense.

Well, that did the trick! Thank you for indulging me. The dark cloud over my head has moved on and I feel the hint of a sunnier day ahead. For all the challenges of parenting, it is watching my children grow and develop their individual personalities that provides me such joy and wonder. This is going to be a good day.