Tonight my friend Mary Ann and I went for a walk and when we got back we were having a chat in my driveway, when we heard what sounded like a knock from the inside of the front door.  We both look at each other confused.  It continued.  Knock.  Pause.  Knock. Pause.  I thought I better check it out while Mary Ann waited in the driveway.  As I approached the door I was imaging what I might find on the other side of the door, but as I got closer, I had an inkling it wouldn’t be good.  I opened the door where I saw Colin surprised to see me, standing in a pitchers stance.  He was pitching left over cherry tomatoes from this evening dinner salad at the glass window in the door. 

I looked on the door where I saw tomato seeds and guts splatter on the door window. 

I was absolutely furious; I don’t believe I have ever been that angry.  But because my friend was waiting in the driveway and I knew it would be hard on our friendship if she called Child Protection, I thought it was best to deal with it later.

I told my friend what the knocking was, and the dear soul pretended not to be all that surprised, like it’s very common for kids to pitch leftovers.  I was not convinced.  Mary Ann asked me what I did and I told her that I threatened Colin that he wouldn’t be allowed to go trick or treating this year.  She told me that I might have to eat that one and she’s right, I likely won’t keep my son from trick or treating, but I was so shocked that I didn’t know what else to say.  I think I need to expect every possible scenario and prepare my reaction in advance.   But I’m certain he will still stump me.

Once the kids were asleep, after a day that seemed like it went on forever, I poured myself a beer and ate 2 ice cream sandwiches.  David gave me a disgusted look and asked me how I could drink beer and eat chocolate and his question confused me.  I was pretty sure that I could drink anything with chocolate without any problem at all.

The bigger problem is how to deal with Colin’s oddly destructive behavior.  Why does he do this stuff?  Is he angry?  Is he neglected?  Do we give him too much attention?  Whatever it is, I’m sure it will end up being my fault. I know I’ve written a lot about Colin and maybe I’m a bit hard on him.  But he gives me such good material.  I mean, his episode with my toothbrush, the bagina, with the sitters, now with tomatoes. 

I remember David’s parents once told me that when David was a kid, whenever he got a toy, his mission was to test the Fischer Price lifetime guarantee.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.  I guess I could look on the bright side:  at least we didn’t have any left over baked potatoes. 

Tonight my friend Mary Ann and I went for a walk and when we got back we were having a chat in my driveway, when we heard what sounded like a knock from the inside of the front door.  We both look at each other confused.  It continued.  Knock.  Pause.  Knock. Pause.  I thought I better check it out while Mary Ann waited in the driveway.  As I approached the door I was imaging what I might find on the other side of the door, but as I got closer, I had an inkling it wouldn’t be good.  I opened the door where I saw Colin surprised to see me, standing in a pitchers stance.  He was pitching left over cherry tomatoes from this evening dinner salad at the glass window in the door. 

I looked on the door where I saw tomato seeds and guts splatter on the door window. 

I was absolutely furious; I don’t believe I have ever been that angry.  But because my friend was waiting in the driveway and I knew it would be hard on our friendship if she called Child Protection, I thought it was best to deal with it later.

I told my friend what the knocking was, and the dear soul pretended not to be all that surprised, like it’s very common for kids to pitch leftovers.  I was not convinced.  Mary Ann asked me what I did and I told her that I threatened Colin that he wouldn’t be allowed to go trick or treating this year.  She told me that I might have to eat that one and she’s right, I likely won’t keep my son from trick or treating, but I was so shocked that I didn’t know what else to say.  I think I need to expect every possible scenario and prepare my reaction in advance.   But I’m certain he will still stump me.

Once the kids were asleep, after a day that seemed like it went on forever, I poured myself a beer and ate 2 ice cream sandwiches.  David gave me a disgusted look and asked me how I could drink beer and eat chocolate and his question confused me.  I was pretty sure that I could drink anything with chocolate without any problem at all.

The bigger problem is how to deal with Colin’s oddly destructive behavior.  Why does he do this stuff?  Is he angry?  Is he neglected?  Do we give him too much attention?  Whatever it is, I’m sure it will end up being my fault. I know I’ve written a lot about Colin and maybe I’m a bit hard on him.  But he gives me such good material.  I mean, his episode with my toothbrush, the bagina, with the sitters, now with tomatoes. 

I remember David’s parents once told me that when David was a kid, whenever he got a toy, his mission was to test the Fischer Price lifetime guarantee.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.  I guess I could look on the bright side:  at least we didn’t have any left over baked potatoes. 

Almost as soon as I moved out of my parent’s house at the tender and naive age of 19, they turned my bedroom into a TV room, virtually eliminating the possibility of me ever moving back home.   They did the same thing with my sister’s room.  It was probably the best thing they ever did for us.  You know that Canadian Heritage commercial where they show a Inukshuk and say “This is how they know we were here”? Well the only evidence that I had ever lived at my parent’s house was a small shoebox full of some of the old memorabilia of my youth that my mother dropped off at my house and said, “Here, if you don’t want this, I’ll put it out on clean up day”. 

The box was full of stuff like a movie stub from my first real date (Dirty Dancing), dozens of pictures from photo booths, a bus ticket from my trip to see my boyfriend who was going to Saint Mary’s.  I took the bus only for him to break up with me almost as soon as I got off the bus.  I was 17 and completely heartbroken.  Before you feel too badly for me, don’t.  Our relationship ended on-a-count of my mild case of the crazy and shortly there after I replaced him with another boyfriend, and I believe we broke up because of the very same ailment.

I had so much fun going through the shoebox full of old memories.  That is until I read my journal.  My God, I was an idiot.   I was completely boy crazy and in love with every boyfriend I had, and absolutely heart broken at the end of every relationship.  My heart is obviously very resilient.

I thumbed through the journal and got to the very back where I had “The list of things I must do before I die.”  Dramatic yes.  I wrote the list when I was 18.  So you can imagine what my priorities were.  But strange as it is, I was able to check a few things off the list.  Perhaps I wasn’t that far off.

I had things on the list like have kids, get married, own a home, have a job I love, make a difference in someone’s life.  Then I got into some weird ones like jump out of a plane, go to a third world county, become a published author, learn a musical instrument and join Toast Masters.  Then the weirdest of all, forgive everyone.; like I’m some angry, scorned woman!  I had no idea I was angry with anyone.

I also had on my list “meet Oprah” which I proudly checked off even though I didn’t actually meet her.  I was in her studio audience in 2003 and I went to see her speak at a workshop in 2001, so I figured I’d throw myself a bone.

I had over ¾ of the stuff on my list checked.  Does that mean I’m a success?  Who knows, but when I think back to when I was 18, if I knew then that I’d feel this fulfilled, I think I’d be happy with that. 

Now I need to make time to learn the guitar, find some Prozac to get the nerve to even think about jumping out of a plane, and then I have to rack my brain to remember everyone who wronged me like in a juicy Soap Opera and forgive them.  Problem is since having kids I have such a bad memory that I can barely remember who pissed me off yesterday.  But I’m sure it was only David and I have no choice but to forgive him.

But I did just join Toast Masters.   Check

Just some of the pictures in my shoe box.  I just love how happy we look.  This was obviously before we all got mortgages.  

This was me after the prom.  I’m quite a sophisticated lady aren’t I.  And I’m pretty sure that’s not my shirt.

My husband was elected as a councilor for the town of Mahone Bay for a second term.  I was so nervous.  I felt like he was my child and we were awaiting his acceptance letter into university.  After his victory we went to a house party.  We had babysitters; the two Jakes we call them.  The boys love having a babysitter who brings a friend so they can have a video game competition, and I know both their mom’s and they are good boys.  Plus, a two for one deal has always been the way I roll. 

We’ve never had a lot of sitters.  We’ve relied of family and close friends.  I always wore that like a badge thinking I was a really good parent.  Now that the boys are getting older, having sitters seems to be a natural progression.    That and because they always cry when we say Nanny is coming to baby-sit.  They say she’s mean and she doesn’t play video games.

This night Colin behaved, in a word, terribly.  It was as if they were let out of prison for the weekend.  I won’t get into it, but lets just say it involved urine and a bra.  I was embarrassed, hurt, and pissed at Colin for his behavior, pardon the pun.

Colin was grounded from the computer, all video games and from anything that would give him any pleasure. 

The next afternoon Evan went for a bike ride with his friends and Colin had a fit because he couldn’t go.   It was a happy coincidence that I wouldn’t’ have let him go regardless of his punishment because he’s only 5, but he tried everything to get me to budge.

“But I want ta”

 “But I miss my broder”  (that one was my favorite)

“I promise I won’t do it again”

To which I answered, “Colin, this is the consequence of your behavior last night.”  To which Colin responded, “What’s a consequence?”

It was a tough day.  I’ll admit, I’m not good with punishments.   On several occasions I wanted to budge and I fought back the tears but I stayed strong.  Colin literally cried all day leaving him with bloodshot eyes.   It was during this awful day that I decided that I really should have exposed them to babysitters earlier and more frequently.  I wasn’t feeling at all like a good parent.  

That night I packed them up and took them to the public skate in Lunenburg.  I took Colin because the poor kid was stuck inside all day, and because I’m sure he got the point of his punishment.   We all had a great hour of skating even though I now have to go to a chiropractor to snap and crack my back into place.  I was taking off Colin’s skates when he looked at me with his big, beautiful but still bloodshot eyes and told me that he loves me more than Santa Claus. 

And with that, Colin’s grounding ended.   Besides, it’s nothing a little Tide won’t fit.

My mother will take any opportunity that presents itself to tell you that we are a lot alike.  I have inherited a similar self-deprecating sense of humor and her big heart.  But I’ve also inherited her not-so-good qualities like her inability to hide displeasure, her bad sense of direction and her incontinence when in a fit of laughter. 

My mother will also tell you that she doesn’t understand my life.  She thinks I am a jet setting executive who has far too many clothes and it doesn’t matter that a lot of them came from Frechys.  She feels that my need to buy $9 Brie cheese is “foolish” and it doesn’t matter that I really love Brie cheese. 

My mother has never been on a plane, in-fact she’s never been out of Atlantic Canada.  She’s never had the desire or opportunity and prefers to have her two feet firmly planted on the ground thank you very much. 

I don’t spend as much time with her as I could or would like to and so when my parents took us up on our invitation to go on a boat cruise, I thought it might make a great video blog.

 Boy, I was right (about the video blog and the incontinence).

mother.mov 

I went to the first Home And School meeting of 2008/2009 and I have to say, I love our schools Home And School Association.  It’s like Girl Guides for grown ups.

I’ve been a member since Evan started school with the initial intention to get really involved with the school making it awkward for the principal to ever expel my children.  But after a while, it got completely addictive, and for all the right reasons. 

It’s amazing what a little group of dedicated mom’s-on-a-mission can do.  We’ve raised a ton of money for things like an outdoor sign to inform parents about what’s happening at the school.  We’ve purchased eye protection gear for the badminton club, and help raise money for kids who needed a little help, sent kids to leadership camp, and organized fun days, bands and theatre groups.  Basically, if someone needs something or we think the school should get something, we’ll get it. 

Honestly, if there were a political party full of home and school’ers, they’d get my vote.

There would be the PC’s, the Liberals, NPD, The Green Party, and The Get Stuff Done Party where if we ran into a deficit we spend less.  What a novel idea.  Or if we need something, we ask for it nicely.

But one of the best reasons why I continue to be involved in Home And School is because the Mom’s really know what’s going on.  They know what kid is going out with who and what kid was kicked off the bus for hanging a moon.

There was a time when I thought I wouldn’t have to rely on second hand information because I would have such an open dialogue with my sons.  They would walk off the bus and through the front door and yell “Hi-ya Mom, I had a great day today.  How was yours?”  I’d hug them and hand them a warm home-made oatmeal cookie with milk and they’d spend endless hours telling me about their day, laughing over a game of Yahtzee until we all brake out in song. 

The reality is, I barely get a “good” when I ask them how their day was.  I ask them what they did? “Nothin”. Who did you play with? “Friends”.  What was the best part of your day? “Recess”.

I’ve learned to ask open-ended questions but usually our most in-depth exchange is when they ask, “Mommy, can you just stop talking?”

Save yourself the trouble and just join your Home And School.

FYI Where were you when Neil Armstrong took the first steps on the moon?  Well, I wasn’t born for another 7 years after that (dig-dig) BUT I fully intend to see history being made on November 4^th, when Barack Obama gets elected as the President of the United States and his wife, Michelle, the First-non-lame-Lady.  If you have 15 minutes and a box of tissue, watch this clip.  You’ll be glad you did.  But if you only have a minute, skip to about 2 and a half minutes and then at 9 minutes. 

YouTube – Four Days in Denver: Behind the Scenes at the 2008 DNC

Evan and Colin started Acadia Hockey camp and if you looked up unprepared in Wikipedia, you’d see a picture of me. 

I picked up the kids from the after school program with the trunk full of hockey gear.  On the drive to the Lunenburg Arena I was going through the checklist in my head of all the things I had to bring.

Hockey sticks- check

Helmets- check

Penis protectors- Check

Gloves- check

Skates- check

As we arrived at the rink I noticed all of the other parents going in the rink with their big wooly coats, boots and mittens.  I looked down at my adorable 3-inch pumps and brown tweed shirt (with no panty hoes), and thought damn!  That’s what I forgot.  I came right for work and was so determined to not forget their stuff that I forgot about me. 

And sure I’d be cold, but I was more upset with the fact that all these veteran hockey parents would be looking at the stupid rookie who wears heels and skirts to hockey.  As if I’m trying to pick up the coach.  Let me redeem myself right now!  When I got home I went to LLBean.com and in 5-7 days business days, I will be wearing the ugliest snowmobile suit you’ve ever seen.

Evan got out on the ice, and immediately fell.  The other kids skated circles around him.  I had been dreading this whole hockey thing, but for the first time since signing him up, I really wanted him to do well, if for no other reason than so he wouldn’t be disappointed with himself.  The coach came up to me and I felt like I was being called to the office by the principal. 

“His skates need to be sharpened.” And he must be a parent, because he took them off and had them sharpened and if there weren’t other parents around I might have kissed him right on the mouth.

The practice went on and I was convinced that he was not going to like it.  He kept falling and looking at the other kids who were like little Sydney Crozbies on the ice.  I was feeling rather giddy thinking about my winter now on the ski slopes and the fabulous pair of boots that I’d buy with the registration refund.  I could see my Kijiji ad now: child’s hockey gear, barely used.

David took Evan to the changing room to remove the gear, because if I were to do it I might have used scissors.  I waited for him in the car because I was freezing and thank God I didn’t have an exacto knife or I would have used it to remove my toes to stop the spread of frost- bite.

Evan appeared with sweat soaked hair and a huge grin on his face and told me that he loved it.

“It’s even my more favoriter than soccer,” he beamed.  “I fell a lot and I almost cried but I didn’t.  I just didn’t give up like you always say.  But I need a jersey with a team on it on it like the other kids.  I was the only one with a plain jersey.  And a fiberglass stick instead of a wood one.  And I want plain underwear without Spiderman.  I was the only kid with stuff on my underwear, kay mommy?”

Colin on the other hand didn’t love hockey.   He liked hanging out with all the other kids and the hockey coaches, but he was upset when we told him he wasn’t allowed to drop his gloves like they do on X-Box Hockey.

FYI- if your kids want to play hockey take them to the hockey camp.  It was $50 and the improvement in 4 days of drills would amaze you.  Plus all those Axemen were pleasant eye candy. 

Evan and Colin started Acadia Hockey camp and if you looked up unprepared in Wikipedia, you’d see a picture of me. 

I picked up the kids from the after school program with the trunk full of hockey gear.  On the drive to the Lunenburg Arena I was going through the checklist in my head of all the things I had to bring.

Hockey sticks- check

Helmets- check

Penis protectors- Check

Gloves- check

Skates- check

As we arrived at the rink I noticed all of the other parents going in the rink with their big wooly coats, boots and mittens.  I looked down at my adorable 3-inch pumps and brown tweed shirt (with no panty hoes), and thought damn!  That’s what I forgot.  I came right for work and was so determined to not forget their stuff that I forgot about me. 

And sure I’d be cold, but I was more upset with the fact that all these veteran hockey parents would be looking at the stupid rookie who wears heels and skirts to hockey.  As if I’m trying to pick up the coach.  Let me redeem myself right now!  When I got home I went to LLBean.com and in 5-7 days business days, I will be wearing the ugliest snowmobile suit you’ve ever seen.

Evan got out on the ice, and immediately fell.  The other kids skated circles around him.  I had been dreading this whole hockey thing, but for the first time since signing him up, I really wanted him to do well, if for no other reason than so he wouldn’t be disappointed with himself.  The coach came up to me and I felt like I was being called to the office by the principal. 

“His skates need to be sharpened.” And he must be a parent, because he took them off and had them sharpened and if there weren’t other parents around I might have kissed him right on the mouth.

The practice went on and I was convinced that he was not going to like it.  He kept falling and looking at the other kids who were like little Sydney Crozbies on the ice.  I was feeling rather giddy thinking about my winter now on the ski slopes and the fabulous pair of boots that I’d buy with the registration refund.  I could see my Kijiji ad now: child’s hockey gear, barely used.

David took Evan to the changing room to remove the gear, because if I were to do it I might have used scissors.  I waited for him in the car because I was freezing and thank God I didn’t have an exacto knife or I would have used it to remove my toes to stop the spread of frost- bite.

Evan appeared with sweat soaked hair and a huge grin on his face and told me that he loved it.

“It’s even my more favoriter than soccer,” he beamed.  “I fell a lot and I almost cried but I didn’t.  I just didn’t give up like you always say.  But I need a jersey with a team on it on it like the other kids.  I was the only one with a plain jersey.  And a fiberglass stick instead of a wood one.  And I want plain underwear without Spiderman.  I was the only kid with stuff on my underwear, kay mommy?”

Colin on the other hand didn’t love hockey.   He liked hanging out with all the other kids and the hockey coaches, but he was upset when we told him he wasn’t allowed to drop his gloves like they do on X-Box Hockey.

FYI- if your kids want to play hockey take them to the hockey camp.  It was $50 and the improvement in 4 days of drills would amaze you.  Plus all those Axemen were pleasant eye candy.