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

Confessions of a Soccer Mom

© Cathysbelleimage | Dreamstime.com

I am sitting down with ice on my legs as I write this. I am not tidying the house or carrying loads of laundry up and down the stairs because I simply cannot. Last night I played in my first soccer game...ever.

Registering the kids for various activities and schlepping them all over town to ballet, hockey, skating lessons, soccer, Sparks and Beavers (just to name a few) is something that I do with love. I make a concerted effort not to over-schedule our time, not only for the kids’ sake but for my own sanity. However, two activities each multiplied by three kids and a spouse who is often out of town makes mom a little nuts.

So I had a brilliant revelation: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em! Yes, I confess. I signed up for a Women’s Over 19 Soccer House League on the urging of a school-mom friend of mine. I bought my first pair of cleats (black with hot pink) and my first shinguards (also hot pink). I arrived early to pick up my uniform and surveyed the other players. Most of them looked just over 19 and I figured that I must be in the wrong spot. Thankfully I saw the more harried (and older) moms rushing in after the dinner rush at home. Phew! My jersey is navy blue with red trim and I managed to snag my favourite number: lucky number 7. I was all set.

On Sunday night, I arrived trepadatiously at the field in the cold wind and rain praying that someone might have the sense to cancel the game and give me a week’s reprieve. They did not. And even with my repeated “I have no idea what I am doing” and “I have never EVER played before” my teammates encouraged me and still put me on the field. My heart was pounding. I was afraid of the ball (not a good start), the other players and generally of embarrassing myself.

Thankfully all those hours spent on the sidelines cheering on my uniformed kids on the pitch has somewhat paid of. I think I played my position (after I figured out what that meant). There were a couple of times that my foot actually made contact with the ball and moved it in the general direction to which it was intended. No one yelled at me for being an idiot or told me to get off the field (hooray!). And best of all? I didn’t sustain any injuries to my creaky 40 year old body. (At least not that I know of yet.)

Our team ended up on the winning side at a score of 3-1. We were wet and cold and sore but it felt good. The feeling of camaraderie was palpable and I’m looking forward to my practice this week (and the promise of beers after our next game). Instead of sitting on the sidelines, it feels good to be doing something for myself even though adding two or three more items is seriously complicating our weekly schedule. Once I am able to regain full use of my legs I think that it will be worth it in the end, showing my kids that I have a life of my own and that we have some commonalities. My kids can probably teach me a thing or three about the beautiful game and I can’t wait.

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.