High maintenace girls

The first time I heard the term high maintenance it was on tv and in reference to someone’s girlfriend who was a hoity-toity socialite or something.

Now I’m the mother of a toddler girl.

High maintenance is the new normal around here…and has been since the exact minute she made her grand entrance.

But…what would I do without her? She is our source of entertainment! Especially these days…she’s turning 3 in a month and already I am constantly astounded, surprised, impressed and astonished at her imagination, her abilities, her skills.

Her noise level isn’t my favorite part, but I guess that’s part of it…

She is one little character, that one…is it any wonder my bedtime is at the same time as that of the kids?


Morphing into a drama queen

He picked a yellow flashlight.

She picked a blue one.

In the car on the way home he wants to switch. He likes the blue one better.

I tell her “that’s ok, yellow is better for fire fighters” (a game they play all the time).

Now he wants the yellow one back.

She takes the blue one.

I can hear and feel the air stop circulating. A storm is brewing.

Before she launches into it, since we’re still in the car (again), I say “the blue one is perfect for night time because the light will be even brighter”.

(Whatever. I don’t care. You do and say what you need to do or say in order to prevent a car accident or infanticide.)

For the duration of the 10 minute ride home she screams her head off.



It carries on at home where first she refuses to leave the car, then throws the blue flashlight on the floor, then, after I carry her inside the house, she melts down complete with stomping of the feet and rolling on the floor.

He asks me to open the package.

She takes her blue flashlight and asks me to open her package.

They get their bathing suits on while playing with their flashlights.

And me?

I’m thinking:

It’s Monday morning. Not even lunch time yet. I’m handling this like an old pro.

Then I think:

What time is too early to pour a glass of wine?


How am I going to get through this for an entire week?


When did mom say she was going to take them?

Summer vacation is here. Eight more weeks left before school starts. But…only 13 more days before summer camp starts again!

Aside note: It hasn’t been too bad. The kids have been mostly good. I’m still in learning-phase though when it comes to handling drama from the drama queen…

Like clockwork

This happens, oh, every 20 minutes or so around here with my 2yo toddler girl:

Look I’m not crying anymore.
Look mommy, I’m not crying anymore.
I’m not crying anymore mommy.
Are you not mad anymore?
Are you not mad anymore mommy?
There is no more yelling?
There is no more screaming?
Mommy, are you not mad anymore?
I lub you mommy….



Crafts with kids – the letter S

The  letter S

I was inspired by this fantastic blog. And since my kids love to do crafts, why not teach them something about letters, reading and writing at the same time!

My 4yo boy already knows the letter. He was introduced to reading and writing at his Montessori daycare using the phonetic method. Yet when I came out with the supplies to create art with the letter S, his eyes lit up!

First, I showed both him and his toddler sister how to trace the letter out with his finger. Watching him do this, it emphasized many things for me that allowed me to further expand my role in helping him reach his reading and writing potential. Things like:

  • He is definitely left-handed. Up until last year he often switched hands, but it is evident now that he will always prefer his left hand to do most things with.
  • He recognizes the letter, can sound it out, and see it in the written word (mostly if the word begins with the letter S), and has for a while.
  • He can think of words that begin with S (sun, snow).
  • He can write it, but it does not remain upright. At this point, crooked, sideways or even upside down, is of no concern to me.

While introducing the letter to them, I said the following:

This is the letter S.
It makes an ssss sound.
Sssss for snake.
What other words begin with Sss?

We then proceeded to create a Snake.

The kids decorated their S with stamps, markers, and stickers. Benjamin tried to write it by tracing it, and by copying it right on the page. I then remembered I had some workbooks I used at the cottage in the summer, so I got one and he continued practicing.

If you have younger children participating, just let them sit there along with the older child. They will amuse themselves as long as the supplies are handy.

A few days later, anxiously waiting for snow that never came, I thought of making another S picture.

The truth about my parenting style

When I carefully reflect upon my parenting style, this comes to mind:

source: myspace

source: myspace

I try very hard to stick to a method of parenting, particularly in the discipline department, that makes sense to them (and to me). I try very hard to give them clear instructions in phrases that both can understand. I try very hard to keep my sanity when my method fails. Continue reading

When toddlers don’t nap

Long gone are the happy days of swaddled Sonja.

Long, LONG gone.  Naptime often looks more like this
I’ve tried everything, and then some, to get some quiet time around here. The singing, reading books, chatting, lying down with her, even a dvd are all methods which work some of the time. But not all of the time.
On some days, when I’m really, really in the mood for some quiet time, I seriously contemplate using some of this:
ducttape2 or maybe some of this:


Unfortonately, neither item is considered legal. And I resign myself to an afternoon of not getting dinner started, not blogging, not cleaning up the messes, not doing laundry, not bonding with the 4yo…

Some days, daddy does the trick though. Some days, Sonja is happy to snuggle with daddy….which suites me just fine.

Alone in the loo…

There is a prevalant story that makes the rounds at family gatherings regarding my now deceased mother-in-law,  and a bathroom at some camp site, somewhere out west during a summer trip.

My husband, at the time six years old, his nine year old sister, and their parents were driving to meet up with another, older daughter, and her newborn baby. The baby was the first grandchild in the family, and the daughter was living in a hippie compound someplace in the bush. Or at least that’s how I understand it.

Continue reading