Canada's Birthday

Happy Birthday Canada!

You are 143 years old today. Thank you for being a safe home for our family.

I'm sorry we are not the patriotic type that will be running around the city in red shirts with our faces painted. We're just not like that.

We do like the fireworks, though I'll be sitting them out this year. The kids are too little to be up so late, so I'll stay home while Husband takes his mother to see them on the boat - or so he hopes. I'm worried that he'll capsize the boat and sink to the bottom of the Gorge in the pitch black of the night. I'm worried that he might get in trouble for being in the harbour, which is so stupidly ridiculous I would never even say it out loud. I don't know if it will rain. I think the rain is done for the day, but you never know. We do live on the coast!

I know that there are many years of fireworks ahead of us, so I don't mind sitting this one out. Hopefully I'll be able to see some of them from the sunroom window. We did last year. Besides, I can continue my love affair with Wii while my husband is away.

School's out!

It was yesterday that my Bear finished his first year of preschool. It has been amazing to see him grow and flourish from a shy 3 year old to a very sociable 4 year old.

I had my reservations when I first enrolled him in his preschool. I wasn't sure how he would do in a setting where I, Husband or my Mom weren't involved in being his primary caregiver. I wasn't sure how he would do around other kids either.

A few years back in our playgroup Bear was picked on and seemed to be singled out by one particular boy. He would charge at Bear and knock him down. He once put him in a headlock and tossed him to the ground. It got to the point that if ANY child came near him Bear would put up his hand and say "No, No!" and run away. It was heartbreaking to see my little boy so afraid of other children. So I told myself that if he wasn't ready, we wouldn't go and we'd only be out the $30 enrollment fee.

When September came and he seemed ready, I told myself that if he didn't like preschool then we'd just be out the September fees, and would find other things to do on the days that he went to school. I didn't even have to come close to making a decision like that because he loved school so much.

He has made friends, and plenty of them. The kids he is drawn to are wonderful, and all the kids love him too. Its sweet to see him doted on by a sweet little blonde girl who always insists on wearing dresses. He rough plays with her older brother. His best buddy is a shy, quiet little guy until you get to know him. Once he warms up to you, he is the sweetest little man! There is a little girl that is as cute as a button that he absolutely adores - and wants to have over for a bounce on the bouncy castle. He's only 4 and he's bringing girls home! Lord help us when he's a teenager.

He's definitely won a place in the hearts of those kids with his sense humour. He is such a ham. One day he came home with a really stiff chunk of hair. It was like he took a handful of gel and slopped it through his shaggy blonde hair. I asked him what he had been into, fearing in was glue or something crazy like that. He proudly told me "I wanted to make Hannah laugh, so I put yogurt in my hair!" I was not surprised in the least.

I'm going to miss seeing him in his puppy slippers, running around the preschool playroom. I'm going to miss the random pieces of art that I don't have the heart to throw away or recycle. I'm going to miss his stories of who did what, and so and so said this or that and it was really funny - you know the type of humour that only a preschooler appreciates?

Our first year of preschool was a success. I am so, so happy that it worked so well for my Bear. Next year I'll be in worse shape though. At least we have one more year til we venture in to kindergarten territory.

Can't Blog! Playing Wii!

We got a Wii. I haven't been this excited over video games since Christmas 1988. That's the year my Grandparents gave my brother and me the original Nintendo system. I can once again feel the same rush I felt as a 11 year old girl figuring out how to save the Princess.

I already feel addicted. As of yet we only have the games that came with it: Wii Resort and Wii Sports. I love the table tennis. I love that when I play the Wii Mii I always get Cole and I can always smoke him in the head with a ping pong ball. I love the background characters too. There are some really freaky looking ones - like super goth chick and angry Chinese man.

Then, there is the sword fighting. I love the intense violin as you're being chased by 50 Wii Miis. It's really, really easy to kick Cole's ass. Not so easy with Jackie. She is one tough Wii Mii!

At the risk of sounding like a complete gaming nerd I'm going to cut it off here.....

But I love my new Wii!

Hello new hair!

Hair! You are short and I am glad. You look good! You feel good! You are smooth, yet choppy. You are brown again. That skunk stripe is gone - or at least covered up. You are no longer ragged. I couldn't pull you into an ugly ponytail if I tried. I promise to take better care of you. I feel better just knowing that you are cut.

I feel like me again.

To my hair....

Goodbye, long, ragged Hair. You haven't been cut since November. I am sorry to tell you this, but you look like crap. You are too long. You are too thick. You don't want to be curly or straight. I should take better care of you, but I can't. I can't take 45 minutes to blow dry you straight. If you knew what happened to my house you would understand. My kids go bonkers when I'm out of the room. They are like savages. Today, while out of the room, my child pooped on the window sill. Well, he didn't actually do the squat and drop, but he was IN the window sill and had a great, big, explosive crap in his diaper, while standing on my sill.

Hair, you have decided you don't want to be brown anymore. You have decided to grow a big, fat, chunk of gray out the back of my head. You must be mistaken. I am not a skunk. It is not nice to be 32 and have an old lady hair colour as your natural colour.

You have been through so much. You were blonde in your early years. I wanted you blonder so I sprayed you with sun-in. That was what you did in the 80's when you wanted blonde hair. I'm sorry I fried you. You were very nice when you were that golden caramel colour. It was great of you to grow that way. I permed you when I was 16. I'm sorry about that. You went through a lot with all those chemicals that lady poured onto my head.

You've been dyed many colours hair. Remember when I dyed you burgundy, and then purple? Remember the green streaks. They were supposed to be blue. Remember when I cut you super short and then bleached you? Then dyed you dark brown?

You've been hacked and grown out, bobbed and razored. You've been permed and straightened. You've been bleached and hi-lighted and dyed. I've covered you with scarves, braided you and covered you with embroidery thread. I've even put beads in you and once tried to mat you into dreads.

Tomorrow you are going to be cut again. I hope this means that I'll have more time to take care of you and make you look pretty. I want to do you justice, Hair! You will also be dyed. I'm too young to be gray. Or maybe not confident enough. Whatever it is, I don't want to be gray. Not yet.

Tonight is the last night that you will be pulled into a messy, scrunched up, rat's nest of a bun, or ponytail, or whatever it is that you call what I do to you. It's horrific, but tomorrow that will change.....

So long, Hair!

Fix it with a coke

Squirrel's separation anxiety is peaking. He wants to be held all the time. Not worn. I tried to get the backpack on so I could wear him on my back and he screamed and chopped it to the floor. I put him on the counter when I was chopping vegetables and he promptly stuck his foot in the barbecue sauce that I had made. He's had a cold and his nose is perpetually snotty and he does not want to be wiped.

So, I handled it like any mature adult would handle it. I had a great big Mommy meltdown. With dramatic exasperation I threw myself onto the couch, put my head in my hands and let out a loud "Ahhhhh!" I don't normally like conducting myself like this in front of the kids. I mean, I'm supposed to be teaching them how to deal with their frustration without kicking and screaming and yelling.

Bear was sitting on the love seat drinking a cup of milk when I did this. He looked at me and said "I know what you need Mommy? You need a great big sip of my milk."

"No I don't." I told him. "I don't want any milk."

"Juice? Would you like some juice?" He smiled.

"No Bear. Please. I'm really, really frustrated." I told him.

"I know what it is. You need yucky drink. That's what you want." He said this with a nod and a great big grin.

"Yeah, that would be nice." I said.

"Then go on, get one." Bear exhorted.

So I did.

Nothing is fair at the fair

I learned a lesson this weekend - Never take a child under two years to the fair.

They are not allowed to go on rides. This made Squirrel really sad. He sobbed and kicked and screamed. He doesn't understand why he can't go on the rides. He doesn't understand when I say to him in a gentle voice "I'm so sorry, I know it's not fair."

Bear had a blast. He went on the roller coaster twice - once with me and once with Nana. He went on some cars that went round and round, and a minuscule version of the Dumbo ride at Disneyland - except the containers (is that what you call them?) were fish or ducks instead of large eared elephants.

I can't wait til next year Squirrel. You and me are doing the roller coaster baby!