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Hand Picked
{This is an old draft from a couple of years ago that I never posted. But I like it so here it is today.} As we pull in, the sun glints off the only other car in the gravel parking lot. It is early but the day is already warm and the sky is a brilliant blue. It takes a couple of minutes to disengage: unbuckle carseats; gather ourselves; make sure keys are in hand, not ignition, before shoving the door shut with my hip. We make our way through the opening in the hedge and up a path to a little market stand. The cedar shake roof is long and low and one wall is open to the fresh air revealing a wide counter and a cooler with vats of ice cream: raspberry cheesecake, bubblegum, maple walnut, moose tracks. There is no one behind the counter but after a minute, a woman calls out from the side of the building. We find her sitting at a picnic table playing cards with a young girl. She tells us that the best picking is to the right, anywhere we like. We clatter off, the four of us and our odd assortment of buckets. Noa, our thirteen month old daughter is not walking yet but we brought along her push toy: a bright yellow, orange and purple wagon with big wheels, a handle and a storage box under the seat. She toddles after us determinedly pushing the wagon over the gravel, falling every few steps but always quick to rise and push on. She has not yet figured out how to turn the wagon; her tactic whenever she encounters an obstacle is to look back at us with a grin and wait for help, one hand still resting on the handle. However, today she will need no such assistance. We have come to a pre-walking, wagon-pusher’s paradise: a blueberry farm. Our four year old son Rain runs ahead to choose our row. After a moment’s wait while we turn the wagon into the wide alley between waist high blueberry bushes, Noa is greeted with the longest unobstructed straight stretch she has ever seen. We set her free. Noa is instantly distracted from wagon pushing paradise when she notices the marble sized berries on the bushes. They are a deep dusky midnight blue and covered with a light powdery film. I am not sure that Noa has ever had blueberries and she has certainly never seen a blueberry bush. Call it human instinct; she drops to her knees, crawls to the nearest bush and begins to fill her mouth with berries with both hands. In fact, this is pretty much the reaction of all of us. We are all diverted from our intentions by the sweet, slightly sour fruit. I love the tanginess of the berries that still have a red blush to them. It takes a few minutes before we are able to get down to work, overwhelmed as we are by the plenitude on each bush, blueberries hanging in clumps like grapes. Eventually, we settle in. The rows are wide with freshly mown grass between. It is the perfect work space for a mom of young kids. Fully fenced to keep out the deer, bushes dense enough that it isn’t easy to get into another row, vast enough to provide a sense of freedom for roaming as far as they like and provided they stay in my row, I can always see them. Rain wanders off, imagination and monologue running a mile a minute as usual. He has a yogurt container laced on to his belt loop but he picks directly into his mouth. The only rule: Fill your bucket or fill your mouth but once the fruit is in my bucket, hands off. The small competitive spark in me flares up as I make it my goal to fill my large pail before we leave. Aaron and I begin working on opposite sides of the same bush so we are facing each other. Noa stays close for the most...
Read MoreWorthy
Last week I found myself sitting on the floor sobbing. There were puzzles spread across the living room floor, laundry piled on every available surface and my daughter had just thrown her lunch on the floor. Her cottage cheese had splattered up the wall and I still had to feed and change the baby and get everyone in the car to pick up big brother from Kindergarten, a trip that would mean our second hour in the car that day (probably with baby screaming). Unbidden, a familiar thought flitted to mind, as it does in these moments: I have never failed so spectacularly at anything as I do every day at parenting. There is a bit of hyperbole in that sentence, the gift of a recovering depressive who is often too hard on herself, but there is something else too. Appropriately, a few days later I stumbled on a little quote that spoke to the heart of what I was feeling: “The end product of child raising is not the child but the parent.” ~ Frank Pittman You see, when I say I’m failing at parenting, I’m not talking about my kids. For one thing, they are generally sweet, bright, funny, interesting and usually polite and caring. Yes, they still do kid things like fight or loudly ask me to “look at that lady’s face!” in the grocery store or throw their lunch on the floor, but overall, they are wonderful kids. For another thing, I sincerely believe that as parents we can neither take credit nor blame for who our kids are. They are their own little people with their own free will and ability to make choices about how they behave. I am responsible for showing them the way but it is up to them whether or not they choose to follow me. Am I setting an example that is worth following? Am I being a person that is worthy of emulation? In the end, I can only take credit or blame for my own actions. I am the product of this parenting journey. Am I being the parent I want to be? Am I proud of who I am today? Last week, the day I found myself sobbing on the floor—it wasn’t because Noa threw her lunch on the floor. It was because I lost my temper, and in my increasing sleep deprived fog I am losing my temper more and more over kid things, over things I want to control but can’t. As I try to keep up with expectations (from others and myself) with three kids, no sleep and little support, I am finding it harder and harder to remember that my kids are on their own journey. As my sister says, “I can’t change them, but I can change my expectations.” I can focus on being the parent that I want to be, even when my kids are choosing to walk their own...
Read MoreSummer By Numbers
We’ve been counting a lot around our house lately. Here are some examples: Number of pounds of pickling cukes picked by Aaron and Rain while I jiggled and bounced Silas in the Ergo: 29 Number of pounds of pickling cukes bought from local farm stand: 10 Number of quart jars of homemade dill pickles made at 11pm after children were sleeping: 31 Number of times per night that Silas wakes to nurse: 8-12 Number of cute noises Silas makes per hour: 568* Number of annoying noises Silas makes per hour: 6 Number of decibels of annoying noises Silas makes: 100* Number of decibels of planes flying over our new house near the Air Force base: 130* Number of decibels of Rain’s constant singing & clapping: 75 Number of pints of strawberry jam canned while children watch movies: 13 Number of pounds of blueberries picked by 3 adults, 6 children & 1 sleeping baby: 16.5 Number of pounds of blueberries remaining after 2 weeks of pies, smoothies, snacking: 0 Number of coats of orange, yellow, red & purple paint (respectively) it took to paint our 1976 Dodge camper while the children slept and watched movies: 5, 2, 4, 3 Number of days on annual camping trip to Klein Lake (Sunshine Coast): 5 Number of sunny days on annual camping trip to Klein Lake (Sunshine Coast): 1.5 Number of teeth Silas has now: 6 * These numbers may or may not be slightly exaggerated. There you have it folks. That’s the way the final days of our summer are shaking down, in numbers. How did your summer add...
Read MoreTop Three Baby Toys
Do you see this? These are the baby toys that we’ve acquired over the last six years. We’ve had others that we’ve sent to the Thrift Store or given to friends so the fact that these are still kicking around tells you that they aren’t bad. They’ve been played with here and there, but almost without exception, we probably could have done without them. Yes, even that Sophie the Giraffe peeking out there. I know, I know. In the natural parenting community it’s pretty much a sin of blasphemy to declare Sophie anything less than an awesome baby toy. But there you have it. All of these brightly coloured noisy (even scented) plastic, plush and wooden toys really have nothing to offer when compared to The Big Three Baby Toys. Third Place – The Rattle This rattle was a gift from friends who traveled to Guatemala. It was probably cheap there but when you add the price of airfare, not so much. So it doesn’t win in the cheap or easy to replace if lost category. But, the handle is small and easy for clumsy babies to grab, pick up on their own and cling to, without fumbling and dropping it by accident. It is filled with pebbles or seeds likely, the kind of things that if it ever broke open would make it a certified North American safety hazard—though in reality they’re probably small enough to be swallowed and pooped out. Besides, that thing is never breaking open. It’s pretty bomber. The noise it makes is pleasant, not overly loud. It’s not hard enough that if baby smacks himself in the face it will hurt much and it definitely wins in the all-natural category. Second Place – The Lid This toy is easy to grab, easy to bite and for extra fun, it’s bendy. Babies can bang on it to produce a pleasant drumming sound but it’s not loud when thrown or dropped from a high-chair. Technically, it wins in the cheap category seeing as you probably have many of these laying around your house. This particular brand of yogurt, however, runs $4.99 for 500g so not as cheap as it could be. Bonus points: this toy often gets recycled lost and requires you to purchase and quickly consume another container of Liberté Black Cherry (8% MF) yogurt before mom baby freaks out. First Place – The Ring Ever heard a little story about my precious? One ring to rule them all? Well, folks, this is it. This toy is also easy to grab, easy to hold, easy to bite. It teaches babies about shapes that are hollow and sometimes falls onto their arm like a bracelet causing confusion and panic learning opportunities. It is shiny. It makes a nice clanging noise when banged on the floor or dropped from great heights. It is small. It is portable. It is cheap. I bet every single one of you have at least one of these in your kitchen somewhere even if you’ve never canned a single thing in your life. I know some people even tie several of these together on a ribbon for extra clangy fun. We’ve done experiments holding up The Ring and one of the brightly coloured toys above. Every one of our babies reached for The Ring every time. What are/were the best baby toys at your...
Read More3 Ring Circus
{A couple of weeks months ago I wrote about everyone asking us how it’s going with three kids. Since that is THE question, the only thing people really want to know, I’m going to answer it, honestly. Not just with the “fine” that I tell people in real life. Part 1: the good stuff…and today, because I promised to be honest, Part 2: the hard stuff.} For me, the hardest things about having three kids: I don’t have a single minute in the day where I’m not actively caring for someone. Have you noticed that I almost never post here anymore? This is why. When Rain was a baby, he went to bed when we did but at least he took occasional naps during the day. When Noa was a baby, I was so so lucky that her afternoon nap was often at the same time as Rain’s (I know – THEY say that never happens but it does, and regularly did for me). Then, when Rain and Noa both stopped napping, wonder of wonders: we had our evenings to ourselves! From 8-10pm every night, I could punch out on the mom clock and just have time to recharge myself. Not so anymore. The big kids don’t nap so I’m caring for them all day and Silas has a fussy spell from 7-10pm every night and often doesn’t settle until AFTER I usually want to go to bed. This means no more day time breaks (though Silas naps well) and no more evening breaks. I’m even parenting in my sleep as I sleep lighter when I have to listen for a hungry baby and I’m nursing 8 times every night right now thanks to teething and 6 month developmental leaps like sitting and crawling. The moments when all 3 need my attention at once. I’ll set the scene: I’m changing Silas’s diaper (on my bedroom floor) to get him ready for a nap, and Noa falls and hurts herself badly. She begins to wail. I leave Silas and go find Noa. While I’m comforting her, I hear Silas beginning to fuss. I bring Noa with me to finish putting on Silas’s diaper. By this time Silas is screaming, probably hungry and tired too, and Noa is still clinging and wanting to be held. Then I hear Rain climbing the cupboards in the kitchen to get something from the top shelf that he’s not supposed to. I carry crying baby and clinging toddler with me to the kitchen to make Rain get down from the counter. He throws himself on the floor whining that I’ve spoiled his plans. These kinds of moments don’t happen all day long but I would be lying if I told you they never happen. When they do, I come pretty close to throwing myself on the floor and crying along with them. When 2 or more are crying/whining/yelling/shouting/singing at the same time. Does this really need more description? I didn’t think so. It’s amazing how our tolerance for chaos increases with every kid. Our house often feels like a nut house but I’ve resigned myself to that. I don’t get as worked up about it as I used to. I know it’s a passing phase. I know it will get easier and I know that there isn’t a lot I can do about it right now. It might seem ridiculous to say on the one hand that I’m hanging on for dear life and on the other that it isn’t nearly as bad as everyone expects. But you know, we’re complex beings: I think we can handle the contradiction. The circus may be loud, disorienting and a little frightening, but there’s also amazing acts, music, and popcorn. I might as well sit back and enjoy the show. Tell me about the circus at your house. I could use some...
Read MoreEasy as 1-2-3
{A couple of weeks ago I wrote about everyone asking us how it’s going with three kids. Since that is THE question, the only thing people really want to know, I’m going to answer it, honestly. Not just with the “fine” that I tell people in real life. So, then Part 1: the good stuff.} In many ways, having three kids isn’t much different than having two. Our life was already pretty loud, chaotic and sleep challenged. It was already a gong show getting dressed and in the car to go anywhere. Silas doesn’t really change that much. In fact, on the whole he’s very quiet and easy to deal with. We’ve already raised two babies. Pretty much everything Silas does is old news to us. We know how to take care of him. We aren’t surprised by the lack of sleep or the inconsistency of newborn clothing sizes or meconium. We were even better prepared for dealing with the big siblings in the transition this time. We learned from the mistakes we made when Noa was born so that this time both of our bigger kids have adjusted to their new little brother much more easily than Rain adjusted when he became a big brother for the first time. The third time around, it seems that we more or less know what we’re doing. Finally! It’s mostly just a matter of integrating a new personality into the family and as far as that goes, it’s luck of the draw. If your first two babies were quiet easy babies and your third is high needs, you’re going to feel that the third time around was the hardest. For us, all three of our babies had more or less the same temperament and so we haven’t had to make huge adjustments in the way we parent our babies. Another little bonus is that once you have three kids, those times when you get to go run errands with just two of them suddenly seems totally doable, fun even. Truth be told, by the time you have a 5 year old and a 3 year old, you realize that babies are nothing compared to the sassy, mess-making, willfulness of preschoolers. So while I say babies are old news, I don’t mean for a moment that I don’t delight in our baby. Silas is my secret little joy right now. Thank goodness for him who brightens up my often frustrating, head/wall banging days. When the older two won’t listen, when they fight and scream, when they pee on the floor, when they refuse to pick up their toys, I breathe in extra deep to inhale the smell of the top of Silas’s head, squeeze him a little tighter and nurse just a little longer because he’s not big yet. There may always be some stress when you add to your family but for us, so far, it seems to get just a little easier every time. If you’re curious about the hard parts, stay tuned for Part 2. In the mean time, how have you found the transitions each time you added to your family? Did it get...
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