Here. I think.
I am not stopping writing. I may write elsewhere or start something new. Or something. Maybe.
I want to thank those of you who have taken the time to acknowledge this blog. I appreciate it more than words can say.
But I feel like we are on a threshold of something. Something bigger, stronger, better?
I need a change. Javaline has run its course.
Is it simply irksome or is it a symptom of a bigger problem, that schools are teaching and training and emphasizing and explaining to first graders, and younger, what bullying is?
Because I’m beginning to think that some of these so-called topics they teach the kids these days end up getting interpreted in ways that indicates a misunderstanding, or worse, in these young children.
Where do we draw the line?
Since when is it acceptable for a kid to call his mom a bully? Why would he choose that word to begin with? How is it that he feels completely justified calling me this name?
I am more than just a little irritated.
I know of a kid, a then 9-year old, who called the cops on his parents when they insisted he complete his homework prior to playing with his younger brother (or something to that effect).
Is this what it has come to? The kids’ trump everything, and then some?
Maybe I’m the one who’s confused.
If you’re read this far and still want to know what happened, read on.
Our morning routine is the same as yours. Some days are fine, other days are annoying. Getting them READY and OUT of the house in a timely fashion that does not set the tone for a negative day is…the same as your morning routine.
We’re leaving at half past.
We’re leaving at 8:30, do you have x and y ready?
We’re leavig in 10 minutes, did you brush your teeth yet?
Get your shoes on, we’re leaving at half past, remember?
Where’s your shoes? It’s half past, we’re leaving now.
You STILL don’t have your shoes on…
I walk toward him, lower myself to his eye-level, and, as he starts to move away from me to avoid what he knows is going to be a very stern conversation, grab his wrists. I grab his wrists and hold him in place and speak (not yell) in a deep, quiet, ‘do not screw with me’ voice the following words:
PUT YOUR SHOES ON NOW.
He creates such drama, about how I’m a bully and how what I did holding his wrists like that is bullying, I swear for a moment he rendered me speechless.
I’m not allowed to hold his wrists. I’m not allowed to raise my voice. I may get reported if I do….
Huh? Is this where we are?
Excuse me if this rubs me the wrong way. I now have to re-teach MY values without negating the school/community/mainstream values to a child who feels completely justified to call his mother a bully.
It bothers me.
sigh.
…children who sleep. And sleep IN.
On school days, even.
Now, this is a very unusual thing for me to admit to since it took Sonja 4 and a half years to sleep through the night. Thanks to Woolla, this has been a regular thing of late. Too bad she regressed in the potty training and now requires a night-time pull-up again, but frankly, I do not give two hoots about that. Long as the child continues to sleep she can wear pull-ups till kingdom come for all I care…
Proof that it CAN happen. It happens to ALL children, this sleeping thing. Eventually. I am barely living proof of it, right here on this blog.
hope I didn’t jinx it now…
We all have heard that worms are good for the soil, good for the compost, good for a bird’s diet…
Did you know that worms make good pets too?
In actual fact, Sonja wanted to care for a bug. I sent her in the garden to look for one but she came back whiny disappointed. So I offered to help her make a worm hotel.
All you need is:
Directions:
I was thinking on the walk home from school this morning how each cup of coffee I consume in the morning has its own unique characteristic. Personality, even.
The first cup, for example, isn’t so much about taste, but rather a jolt. (No, that’s not right, I hate jolts, or rushing, or loud noises that early.) The first cup is like a lifeline. It gets consumed, almost gulped, and I can’t say I’m fully aware of its properties, however yummy they may be.
The second cup, usually sipped and savoured shortly after the first cup, has a much more prominent presence. You know what I mean? I can smell the lovely scent with my nose, I can feel the warmth of the cup with my hand, I can taste the full-bodied deliciousness on my tongue. I enjoy the second cup.
Unfortunately I cannot have a third cup until after the children are dropped off. The school is a 5-block walk one way, and by the time I return home 45 minutes later, my bladder, which, incidentally is the size of a coffee bean, cannot hold it any longer. Discomfort due to coffee is unpleasant.
So now I sit here with my freshly brewed third cuppa joe, and can once again feel the love.
Aaahhh.
The problem with the Paleo diet is that we are in endless need of meat.
He’s the one on the diet, but since I have to feed him AND us, I may as well cook accordingly…
Sure we have a freezer full of venison, some of which I do eat even though I’m not crazy for venison in general, but really I can only eat so many beef/pork/venison burgers or meatballs before getting bored (or sick of it).
We used to have a butcher. He died. We no longer have chicken from the Mennonite farm he used to get it from, nor eggs. We no longer have his awesome sausages. We have to shop for meat at other stores that serve organic, or at least pasture-fed, humanely raised meat-animals.
Beretta Organic Farms sells at Wholefoods and at Loblaws, even. So that’s one option, but that means get in the car and drive a distance. I’m a local kinda gal. I prefer doing my shopping close to home, if possible. So I either make the trip once or twice a month and spend a small fortune to fill the freezer, or I order via mom who passes Wholefoods on her way to visit us once a week.
Once upon a time we knew a guy whose parents had a hobby farm. They sold us a half a cow and we were happy! They also had a few chickens, eggs and a bunch of yummy squashes…but that freezer full of various cuts of beef was heavenly. So easy to plan meals! I will have to make the effort to find someone who sells us half a cow again.
While trying to accommodate his paleo needs, I have found that eating less grain in general (even though most of our grain is whole grain) has helped me in terms of battling mid-afternoon fatigue. But to say it’s challenging to cook this way in winter when most of the fruit and veg is imported, greenhoused, and mediocre at best in terms of taste, is pretty much an understatement.
Which brings us to the fantastic weather we’ve been having over the past few weeks. WARM, sunny, and if I stick my finger in the soil of my garden beds, I can feel it move. The soil! It moves! This normally doesn’t happen until May in these parts. Usually the soil is cold and clumpy, frozen even.
So the itch to sow a few seeds that can handle frost has taken me over. I’m thinking arugula, which can be eaten both raw in salads or cooked. The parsley and chives are poking through already too, and are ready for snipping to add to salads and sandwiches. Or on top of eggs.
In the meantime, I dug out a package of chicken and two turkey legs out of the freezer. The turkey legs are bigger so I put them in the crockpot with some orange slices, and the chicken will be defrosted in time to bbq later. Dinner for tonight is covered.
Don’t ask me what to make tomorrow.
I am the mother of a 7 year old boy.
I am the mother of a teething 7 year old boy. Who said teething is over after they get their baby teeth?
This child of mine has lost 7 teeth in the last year. He turned 7 on Tuesday. He has swollen gums, dry and cracked lips and, as a result of a combination of licking himself to wet the lips and wiping his drippy nose with the back of his hand downwards toward his mouth, he displays a wide variety of rashes, blisters and oozing blotches around the entire right side of his mouth.
Note: the picture above was taken prior to the oozing and rashes…
I blame teething. But what do I know, I’ve never had a 7 year old kid before…
* * *
Both his parents enjoy cavity free teeth. We want the same for our children. I grew up in Switzerland where lunchtime, both for school children and working people, was two hours long. For many, this meant a hot lunch at home, followed by…you guessed it, a visit to the bathroom to brush your teeth.
When we moved to Canada, and I entered grade 6, my mom encouraged us to bring our toothbrushes to school and brush after lunch, which was to be eaten at school during the 55 minutes of the standard lunch break. That didn’t last long, since no one did this, and it was kind of gross, frankly. But we lucked out, all three of us, and we managed to maintain a cavity free mouth into adulthood.
My kids are good with brushing their teeth in the morning and at night. They do complain when I suggest they brush their teeth after eating something sweet, like candy, or a type of food that discolours their mouths. Ben got, for his birthday, a soother-type candy which made his entire mouth blue, and it took him a while to brush off the artificial food colouring of that disgusting candy. But he did it, on his own, after I suggested he go look at himself in a mirror…
Good oral hygiene begins at home, and like so many things parenting, good role-modeling can help the children maintain a healthy mouth and teeth. I just hope that with the impending Easter candy festivities and all the subsequent other candy-giving holidays that are so important to childhood, the kids can continue to remain cavity free.
The dresser in the kids’ room looked like this once:
No it’s got crap all over it. I’ve been meaning to get to it but then I have had some drama of late…so the crap stays on top of the dresser and I don’t feel particularly stimulated cleaning it up or putting it away.
Now the dresser looks like this:
The box has stuff in it I want to donate. The art needs to be hung up or photographed and filckr’d so that if I throw it out she can’t complain that I don’t like her art. (I like her art, but there is too much of it). The binder with the hockey cards should be put together by someone else than me (i.e. the hockey player in this house) and the other random stuff should be put where it belongs.
Alas, my hallway outside the bathroom looks similar. So does a corner in the bedroom. Also I have clean laundry in the basket that has prevented me from doing MORE laundry…
To tell you the truth I feel kind of unmotivated to do just about anything these days. Going into a busy weekend/week off with birthdays and March Break and stuff going on and the weather improving and and and.
We’re out of bread.
I can’t even make her a sandwich.
I need to bake cupcakes. Shop for things like bread and vegetables. Again. And either get it together and find him his inline skates at some store or forgetaboutit and get him something else alltogether since ohmygod my baby is turning 7 in a few days!
Tired.
*sigh*
Black-eyed peas and bitter greens (collards, kale, swiss chard, dandelion, rapini and arugula, for example) are on the good-to-eat list DH got from his naturopath. Along with a digestive enzyme to help with the beans, he is happy to eat my funky recipe inventions (although the kids less so). This salad was delish, and easy to prepare. Also very versatile because you can substitute the greens you have on hand with something else the next time.
I used dried black-eyed peas which I soaked and then cooked tender, but you can use canned ones (rinse well to remove excess salt). In this recipe I used wilted collards which I had never had before, and added fresh (not wilted) arugula at the end for some extra kick.
When wilting the greens, do so in olive oil, sea salt, chopped garlic and onion. Add the chopped greens, dripping wet, into the pan, put on the lid, and let wilt. This takes 1-2 minutes max. I then used tongues to mix a little, put in a glass dish, added the drained beans, squeezed a bit of lemon juice on top, and tasted it.
My female child does not have my hair. My hair is long, dark, and fast growing. Hers is fine, blond, with natural highlights, and has in her four years of life just barely touched her shoulders in length.
Still she needed a cut. Putting clips in her hair, or trying out pig-tails (I love pig tails on her!), it was just such an ordeal every time I just gave up. Let her have messy hair hanging into her eyes.
I trimmed it here and there but always had a lot of fuss and drama to deal with (I know, *surprise*!), so I bit the financial bullet and took her to my little salon up the street, with grandma along for moral support (not that I needed it, Sonja LOVES the salon!).
Ha.
I think she’s happy with her new, slightly angled bob.
