Thursday, Friday, Dadder-day!

On Saturdays I go to work. I leave the house before anyone is awake, leaving the three men in my life to fend for themselves. It’s kind of a fun bonding day for my husband and his boys, and even Thyra gets in on the action here and there.

My mom often worked Saturdays while I was growing up, and one of the more vivid memories I have of my dad were hanging out with him and my brother while she worked. We did chores around the house, (with Tina Turner or UB40 cranked up to get us moving), took the car to get washed, went to watch planes come in, rode bikes, cooked Indian food and between all those normal, typical, Saturday activities, made the day into a special time just our own.

I don’t know how long I’ll be a working mom on the weekend, but should this be the status quo for awhile this is what I hope Saturdays become for our kids and their dad. Days spent making memories, which even when not terribly exciting or adventurous, have their own special charm.

One of Gavan’s favorite ways to occupy the little guys is to take them over to the indoor play centre we occasionally frequent, Coffee and S’cream. It’s one of Malachi’s most favorite places, and a perfect place for the young’uns to let off some steam while their grown-up du jour gets a coffee and a chance to relax. A place where a dad can maybe read a paper, surf the internet, or even play a board game without wondering what his kids are destroying now. A place where everyone leaves satisfied, smiling and hopefully a wee bit tuckered.

Thankfully Gavan remembered the camera on their last outing, so that this mom wasn’t totally missing out on the action.

Halloween 2009

The last day of October was kind of a bust around these parts.  I had good intentions of purchasing a pumpkin or two for some carving fun, but never quite got around to it and now that I’m working full days on Saturdays even my usual last-minute frenzy that follows much procrastination didn’t quite materialize.

Aside from the big  FAIL in the decor department, I wasn’t really sure what to do about costumes this year.  Malachi’s monkey costume still fit him from the year before, but I had originally planned on passing it down to Kashton and buying him something new.  Well good thing I never got around to that either, because he basically refused to have anything to do with a costume this year. 

Thyra had wanted to go as a clown and I had purchased her an adult and child size wig, not being sure which one    would fit her, (the adult of course), I figured   maybe one of the boys could us  e the leftover wig.

And that’s pretty much exactly what happened.  After a late start to trick-or-treating (aided in part by the fact that  the daylight savings time change now occurs AFTER Halloween instead of before, and unlike some of the neighbourhood kids, I insist on waiting until it it dark before unleashing trick-or-treaters into the night) the boys and their big sister managed to get up and down the street to all of our neighbours and still managed a pretty decent haul.

   

 

Absentee

Between working and birthday parties and strep throat, who has time for children? (And even moreso, blogs!)

Abandoned and Bereft.

(click to enlarge)

Today I felt really sorry for myself.

Gavan left for New Zealand this morning. He is away for 16 days, leaving me on my own to fend for kids, dogs, lawncare, bathtime, dishes, laundry, bedtimes, groceries, gas, banking, dinners and endless amounts of diaper changes all by myself. Ok, not exactly by myself. Thyra's official last day of school was today (not that she went), and she will be around to be my right-hand man they way she usually is.

But back to my pity party....I know there will be a few days of anxiously looking at the clock around 5 pm, counting down the minutes as I do every night until Gavan walks through the door, only to realize that he's not going to show up,(with whatever grocery item I forgot and desperately need to start dinner), anytime soon.

I will, however, survive. (And hopefully my kids do too).

After all... I have been here before. I have several years of single-motherhood under my belt, and even though there were far less kids and dogs involved, I do believe it has contributed to some spirit of independence, of which I hope a modicum remains. I guess we'll find out.

The idea of wallowing in self-pity until the father of my children returns started losing it's charm not long after wishing Mr. Dearly Departed ("departed" in a literal sense, not the other more morbid sense) a Bon Voyage! After blowing our kisses, and bidding fond farewells, we went from the airport to visit my cousin Preya, who coincidentally just arrived this morning after being away in Pemba, Mozambique for the last 10 months. Preya, her husband Dayne and their kids moved to Africa last August, an unthinkable adventure for most of us, let alone with a brand new,weeks old baby.

Having lived overseas for most of their marriage in several exotic locations, Preya is old-hat at adjusting to a new culture, new language, new way of life. But having kids undoubtedly adds to the trials and complexities of ex-pat life and much of the time she is on her own as Dayne is often away with his job.

I realized today that if she can not only manage her three kids, ages 4, 2 1/2 and almost 1, across the world, without all the familiar comforts of Canadian life we are accustomed to, but can also successfully shuffle them from one continent to another on their visits home, and do all of this alone, I can most definitely manage my little tribe for a couple of weeks without whining too much about hardship or exhaustion.

Even so, I'll be crossing off the days until Hubs gets back. 1 down, 15 to go.

(Have a wonderful vacation Gav. You owe me BIGTIME!)

Early Riser

I am a night owl. I have been for as long as I can remember. Unfortunately, Gavan is too, which means I am easily swayed to stay up later than I should because I have a partner in crime.

It's not that I don't love sleep. I do... once in my cosy bed with eyes closed, and brain and body reaping the benefits of the REM cycle. In fact sleep and I are long-lost lovers, pining for each other across time and space. I could blame this separation of self and bed on the fact that we have very young children, but the real truth is, I just don't get there early enough. There's too much life to be lived to sleep it away, and the hours after the children are in bed are the only ones I have to myself, so my tendency is to extend them into the witching hours.

What I have discovered though, is that I actually love mornings. Especially summer mornings. There is something so calming about rising early, and soaking up the pervasive peace that comes with the dawning of a new day. I remember helping my brother with his morning paper route in my early teens, and the joy it was to see the sky turn from navy to cobalt to aqua and then a fiery crimson and gold as the sun stretched first fingers over the horizon.

Complete stillness save for the sweet notes of birdsong, crisp air, dew like gems adorning summer blooms, the fresh earthy scent of damp grass... all of this is enough to make me want to become a morning person.

Natural beauty aside, it is my firm belief that morning-lovers are healthier, more focused individuals. That they accomplish more. That they are steady, accomplished people who live organized, unfrenzied lives. Myth? I'm not sure, but I'd like to find out.

For now, because mostly I am a morning-person by default (read: Malachi alive and well before 7 am), I have discovered one necessary ingredient to a successful start to the day:

Coffee! I have always enjoyed it, but only drank it if it was made for me. Embarrassingly, I could cook a successful meal for company, but when it came time for dessert, I had to have someone else (husband or guest), put on a pot. Shameful, I know.

Mostly this meant, that coffee in the morning was a luxury reserved for weekends, when Gavan was around to make some for me. And then, I got a french-press for Christmas. Now not only can I make myself a pot, but I have the technique down to a science which results in the best cup of coffee possible at home. And if this perfect cup, can be enjoyed in solitude on the back porch in the early morning sunshine, I know it's going to be a good day.

My perfect cup:

1. Start with fresh Starbucks Sumatra Beans

2. Grind coarsely(about 10 pulses)

3. Add not-quite-boiled hot water to
grounds in press and stir.

5. Set timer for 4 minutes and
let brew.

5. Depress press plunger slowly.
6. Add fixings and enjoy!

7. Attend to children. Sigh.

I have a problem, it's true.

Because I am lazy, I am making a blog post out of a comment I made on someone else's blog not too long ago. (Thanks Robin for the permission to cut and paste!)

Her much more succinct post was about how men and women load the dishwasher completely differently, and this being a topic of which I have a huge soapbox for and like to climb on frequently and spew opinions about how to correctly load a dishwasher to anyone in earshot... (mostly frequently my husband), I thought I should just post the comment itself with some photos (which really do speak a thousand words) so that you can all either label me certifiable, or hopefully just feel my pain.

And it is pain.

Firstly, here is the comment which shall now double as blog post:

Do you know about my OCD issues with the dishwasher? Just this very day, I opened it after my husband had loaded it (I use the word "loaded" loosely, more like threw things in and hoped for the best) and took everything out and reloaded it. Properly. According to me.

Seriously, he had things upside down and sideways and backwards. I realize that its probably not necessary to arrange the dishes by type and size, like I do, but COME ON!

I do try to bite my tongue and tell myself over and over that I should just be glad its done and that they will still get clean, but I have a really hard time with this.

Sadly my dishwasher OCD doesn't just end with my husband. If you are my friend, at my house and trying to be helpful, maybe just wipe the table or put things in the sink. I tend to twitch and go squirrely at the sight of someone else's hands in my DW.

And now for the pudding....

Gavan's idea of loading the dishwasher looks like this:

Top shelf

Bottom Rack

Did he seriously just put a huge pan on the top shelf and throw the huge colander in while a stack of dishes sat in the sink? Are those bowls hiding under the pots and glasses randomly loaded all willy-nilly like? I can't take it!

How I load the dishwasher: (Same dishes plus a bunch more that I could fit in)

Top Rack

Bottom Rack

Please tell me I'm not the only one out there with some kind of appliance OCD....

What is hands off in your household?

(Someday I'll tell you about the time Gavan thought the rice steamer was the same thing as the crockpot.)

Doggone it

We have dogs. We started with one, while we were dating and added the second soon after our wedding. I loved being a dog-owner after a long absence of furry pets in my life. Gromit, our Westie, was like my little baby. He slept with me, came for car rides and like any adored child, occupied much of our time and energy. Pixie, the Cairn, came with a few more personality quirks, and has never quite held the esteem I have of her canine brother.

Love my dog(s), though I may, I am a bit of a fairweather friend when it comes to the pecking order in our house.

In other words: no contest.

Yes, I am one of those terrible people who shooed the pets from the bed and couch once the babies arrived. I am that cliched dog-owner who finds herself too preoccupied and busy with diapers and highchairs, for leashes and tennis balls. And being too exhausted for anything falling outside the parameters of basic survival, all manner of dog-training has swiftly evaporated into thin air (along with romantic nights on the town, and sleep).

I don't feel too bad. My dogs still have a pretty cushy life. So what if tummy rubs are less frequent these days or a romp in the backyard is the closest thing they got to a walk today? Hey, I barely get my own teeth brushed most of the time, let alone worry about theirs.

Not to mention, these canines of ours are a LOT of work. On top of all the things that must be done to care for 2 children under 20 months, I can't help but be exasperated sometimes that I'm also required to wipe muddy paws (and consequently floors), referee doggie rough-housing that often takes a turn towards crazy, let them in and out and in and out, clip, feed, water, shoo, scold, pooper-scoop all about a thousand times a day. It's honestly like having 2 extra toddlers in the house. And sometimes more expensive.

Just yesterday, my cousin and I took the boys for a quick walk to the park. I debated bringing the dogs, but it's a huge hassle as they're not allowed actually near the playground, and as we weren't going to be long, I left them in the backyard to bask in the spring sunshine... a favorite hobby of theirs. To say they were unimpressed by the sight of me unfolding the stroller and then shutting the gate firmly behind me without them was an understatement. I however, knew there would be a walk later. They apparently did not.

We were literally back in the house for a minute, my mom having just driven up at exact moment of our return, and keys still in the door, when a uniformed officer showed up to ask if I was missing a couple of dogs. Sure enough. Strangely, I thought I had heard a familiar bark coming from the wrong direction upon our return to the house, but I wrote it off knowing that I had absolutely shut the gate behind me. Totally confused about how they could have possibly escaped our yard, we (being unamused officer and I) went to investigate and found that indeed the gates were completely shut, but a fresh hole had been dug under the gate.

$80 dollars later in impound fees (for which I am completely irate, the dogs were in the care of the officer for a total of about 5 minutes as my mom, not knowing they were ours, actually saw them being picked up as she drove up to the house), and a benevolent warning instead of a $250 "Dogs-at-large" fine, and our lovely pets were returned to the safety of our home. Lucky us.

I don't mean that. (Really.)

I know that someday life will slow down. Our kids will grow up and be too busy for kisses and cuddles and stories. And then, man's-best-friend will loyally return to their rightful place... on our laps and in our hearts.

breakfast of champions

Yes this is my son STANDING on the table covered in syrup!

I am a moderately decent cook.

I can feed my family most days without complaints, and I don't completely embarrass myself when cooking for company (usually).

That being said, I am no Chef-at-Home.

I am getting a little more saavy in culinary matters, mostly because I am home now, and have much more opportunity to dabble, and my developing interest in cooking is largely thanks to Food Network and the internet, which allows me to try new recipes and improve my skills.

HOWEVER...it seems that setbacks and detours are unavoidable on the road to gastronomical nirvana.

This morning, seeing as both children were being cooperative, I had this dream that I would whip up some pancakes for breakfast. I make them from scratch, and don't really have a recipe, but it's not that complicated right? A basic pancake mix consists of eggs, flour and milk. Of course it is the proportions of those ingredients that is the key to successful breakfast fare, and I usually just guess and tweak here and there as necessary.

Feeling confidant in my skills this morning I opted to get fancy and thought that perhaps the addition of some Pumpkin Pie spice would be really delicious in the batter. Except Taco seasoning does not have quite the same effect as Pumpkin Pie spice. Oops!

I tried to salvage the batter, but it was too late, so that batch was discarded and I started over. This time I did manage to get the right spice into the mix, and started pouring batter onto the griddle. They bubbled away nicely, browning evenly and tasted not too bad. If you like rubber. Sigh.

Here began the tweaking process I spoke of earlier. A little more flour, another egg, some milk and a good dash of baking powder. Back to the griddle I went with the new batter, and guess what?

PERFECT!

My confidence restored, I carmelized up some bananas and ladled them over these nicely-spiced pancakes. After one or two disasters, we did end up with the breakfast I had envisioned.

Malachi devoured a stack, and in his own version of licking the plate clean, I found him with a sticky, syrup-covered plate on the top of his head. Something tells me we might need to worry less about gourmet breakfasts, and more about manners.

Pretend Getaway

This past weekend, Gavan was attending a games conference (read: NERD convention) here in Calgary, and was given a free hotel room to use for the weekend.

The kids and I, having nothing else to do, decided to take advantage of maid service, and other hotel amenities like the pool, king-sized beds and headed over.

Of course, it wasn't quite the same as being truly away. With home being less than a 10 minute drive from the hotel, we made trips back and forth to let out our dogs, pick up forgotten items, refill bottles etc.

Even still, it wasn't a bad way to kill a couple of days, although I did discover that 5 people in the same hotel room means every single one of them is awake at 1 am.

We did this:

while he did this:

I'll let you decide who had more fun!