Why are you home?

I was walking with Ellie and a small friend of ours and he innocently asked,

"Avery, why are you home?"

Implying, of course, why am I home when his mom is at work? Why does he have a nanny and my kids don't? Why does the world work the way it does where some moms work and some don't?

I explained to him that before we moved to Canada I did work, just like his teacher, in a school.  That jobs were hard to get in Canada, and I tried. And it didn't work out, and I'm home for now and the near future.

What I really wanted to say, though, was, "I don't know, little dude. I just don't know."

I don't know how I got to this place in my life where I am a stay-at-home-mom. It is not a role that sits easily or comfortably on me.  I like to read Martha Stewart. I am certainly not Martha Stewart.

I am a teacher, preferably of other people's children. I have patience with them, because they don't crawl into bed with me at night and I don't listen to their sibling rivalry while I cook dinner.  I like to observe their intelligence.  I love their idiosyncrasies.  I enjoy talking "teacher talk" incessantly at social functions, much to my husband's dismay.

I would probably be fired if I was audited for my stay-at-home-ness.  I would like to outsource most of my day to day tasks and would if I could afford to, including things like: emptying the dishwasher; putting laundry away; dishing out goldfish crackers; budgeting; opening the mail; taking out the trash; emptying luggage after a trip (we need a trip fairy!); watching Cars 2.  I could use a small army of elves, or perhaps a butler or lady's maid.  I enjoy: grocery shopping, volunteering in classrooms/schools, cooking, reading with my kids, hosting playdates, the flexibility of stay-at-home life.

I miss work. I do not miss the crazy hectic life of trying to balance it all.

I don't know if it would be easier or harder to work in a different country, and if the parenting-work balance would be calmer.  Women seem to manage better here.  Policies like one year of maternity leave, on the surface, seem to help.  Yet it appears, at least in my neighborhood and at my children's schools, that women are the primary caregivers; they are the ones picking up the kids and volunteering.  To be fair, we had a family in the neighborhood just leave for Abu Dhabi. For her job. She has a seven month old.  (And a preschooler.)

I have to go now. I have to color a book. Then bathe 2 small, squirmy children. Then read to them, and convince them that sleep is a necessity worth their while.

Ellie at 6

I got peed on in my sleep last night. Not by J. Luckily.  S is still sneaking, ninja-spy style into our bed, and I woke up in what smelled like a urinal in Bryd Stadium during the fourth quarter.

Before kids, I would have thought after 6 years of parenting that I would have been through this already. I would have thought that my children would have both been fully potty trained, including at night, and that S would no longer use his paci at night.  I would have thought that, while the early years would have been tough,  I would have been through them by now.  This older me laughs and gently mocks that younger and more naive me when her back is turned while she is trying to nurse a new baby with a toddler hanging around.

J does not get peed on, by the way.  He mysteriously stays dry, while I just try to find a dry spot on my pillow (because you don't think I got up, do you? sleep is hard to come by, people).  

E celebrated turning 6 years old a few weeks ago.  Looking at her, I can't believe she is six.  I can't believe she started life outside of my body at almost 7 pounds and now she is a French-speaking, Wii-playing kindergartener.  She is capable of pouring her own milk, going to the bathroom on her own (mostly) and tries to teach S various things she probably shouldn't.  She is mischievous and funny and loving.  She is learning how to stand up for herself.  E is proving to be an awesome skier and I'm hoping she learns to swim to the end of the pool by the end of the school year.  In many ways, she is mirroring her toddler years - she goes to do something independent, and then is still very needy, cuddly and needs a lot of reassurance.  

Parenting continues to surprise me at how hard it is every single day.  I keep thinking that I will be good at it.  Maybe this week will be the turn around!  Mostly E and S are fine, and it is my own expectations that I am failing to meet. I am not reading to them enough, they watch too much television, they bicker with each other too much.  Then I try to do a reality check and tell myself that everything is a continuum and that they are well within the normal range on everything, and not every day is going to be perfect.  

And let's be honest, folks, how much can one adult play ________? You can really fill in the blank with any children's toy. I would rather play with a cardboard box than most toys. Actually, I got in trouble with J for buying E this cardboard box for her birthday.  

J and I talked with E over the past few weeks about how hard it is to be the oldest kiddo.  She gets to stay up late with us sometimes, and talk to us, but she also has to be the test case for a lot of our parenting mistakes, and be the responsible one.  Both J and I commiserated with her on how hard it is, and how well she does at being kind to S and teaching him the right things to do.  

Six years ago, I was up every few hours. She couldn't talk, or laugh, but I loved her so much! Now, she is sharing when she is hurt, and what she wants, and sometimes she has an attitude I would find hilarious if I were not her mother.  E is a delight, in every way. We are so lucky to have such a great kid as our daughter.   

The Devil is in the Details

It is all fun and adventure to live in another country.

Until that country is bilingual, and packages all of its products in two languages, and you are at Costco on a Saturday and you are in a rush.  You just want to know if the blankty-blank juice is indeed fruit punch or if the ziploc bags are gallon size so you don't buy the wrong thing and then get home and have to go out again for what will be the millionth time to the millionth place because youdon'thavetimeforthat. Because you've already had no hot water this week (fixed) and a broken dishwasher (also fixed) and a traveling husband (back) and you just want to run your blankty errands.

Then it isn't always so fun. I mean, it still IS, just not in that moment.  I think people sometimes suppose Canada is like America-lite, but it is not, friends, it is not.

We had to go to the American Consulate in Toronto recently to get E's passport renewed. Kids' passports are only good for 5 years.  You remember that one of the scariest places in the world to be, beside a military base in a combat zone, is an embassy/consulate. They had bomb alarm evacuation guidelines.  Also, excellent posters from the 80's that said "Feel the Spirit!" I would have taken a picture but I was allowed to bring nothing in, not even my key fob because it had a keyless remote.  I was allowed to pay in American dollars.

Ultimately, I do like living in another place. It is the little things like this that somehow exhaust me, though.*

*Like, what is Vim? And why would you clean with it? Is there a partner cleaner Vigor?
**Homework: please look up on google maps the town of Regina.

Pinterest, until JG stole it!

I was going to write about Pinterest, then JG STOLE MY IDEA ON HER BLOG. (But she is my friend and she introduced me to pinterest and now I neglect my family and stay up too late so it is all really OK.)

Really, pinterest is all about sharing, so you can go read her blog here, and save me the time of writing it.

I will be posting pics of E's pinterest-inspired birthday party next week here. *It's awesome!* And has lots of glitter and sparkly lights. Every 6 year old needs a party with glitter and sparkly lights.

I have been thinking about how men could use pinterest.  Perhaps to visually cultivate a personal style, or to note places they would like to travel. For the design-minded man, it wouldn't be an issue. But for the average guy, it may be more of a challenge.  I'm not sure.  Maybe for great sports photos? Food, recipes, cocktails? There are lots of great things visually on the internet to capture and review.

Take a look, create your own board. Mine are very much in infancy because I have been working on E's birthday, but I know some of you have them already. Apparently the app is not that great yet, but hopefully that is fixed soon.

Dad, please block this website on mom's computer. I accept no liability for this post or the effects.

Winter, Again, In Canada

There are so many things I am overdue to tell you about! Above, a picture of my friend and neighbor Paul's backyard ice skating rink. It is cold today - 10 degrees F - so finally cold enough to freeze the rink. I think we'll check it out tomorrow or the next day.  Because in Canada, they build rinks in their backyards.

Canadians also give delightful gifts. I urge you to take a few minutes and watch the video based on the book The Sweater.  Watch it until the end, otherwise you will not love the story as much as it should be loved. It is about a young boy who lives in rural Quebec, and needs a new hockey sweater. His mother writes to the department store to send him a new one. Is it the one all the other boys wear? What happens?  

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"Have you ever done this before, E?" I asked, knowing she hadn't.

"Why would I have cut down a Christmas tree? I'm Jewish!" she responded emphatically.

J suggested in the spirit of Canadiana, and in our first holiday season away from our families, we should cut down a tree at a tree farm about an hour north of the city.  They had a tractor ride out to get our trees, a sleigh ride if there was snow, and a bunch of other holiday activities. We did none of them. The place was packed. We arrived at about 9 a.m. on a Sunday, after keeping our kids up until 11 p.m. the night before, and were able to get on a tractor pretty easily. By the time we were leaving, there was a police person directing traffic outside and the lot was full.  We had our tree, though, that J/Paul Bunyan/Clark Griswold chopped down all by himself. 

Since S was so tired, blankie and paci also helped us pick out the tree. We got to carry S and the tree back to the pick up site. That was really fun! 

Mom has all of our stockings in a box in Arizona, with the guns, of course, so we had to make some. We didn't have any ornaments, so E and S went crazy. We had many ornaments with Buzz Lightyear and Spiderman stickers. 'Tis the season for superheroes.

S was also a reindeer in his school concert. He sang traditional Christmas songs with lyrics like, "Heigh-ho welcome baby Jesus," (it is pretty catchy) and the Santa cheer, "5-6-7-8, fill our stockings, don't be late, GOOOOO Santa!" This is actually fairly hilarious coming from a bunch of three year olds. If you have not been to a preschool concert lately, I urge you to find one and attend. It will restore your faith in humanity.  

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We also held our traditional latke Hanukkah party for our neighbors on Boxing Day, the 7th night of Hanukkah.  It was super fun and we (by we, I mean H) peeled 15 lbs of potatoes and I fried them up. We also made Renee's brisket and had lots of other yummy treats. We were even able to find Loonies and Toonies for our Canadian Hanukkah gelt bags!  

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We wish you a happy holiday season and a joy-filled 2012! There will be more to come as we celebrate E's birthday, begin skiing, skating, and enjoying our second winter in Canada.  

Our Own Wine

One of the things about Canada that is not as great as the U.S. is the alcohol prices.  Last year, I gave J the book Boozehound for Christmas.  It it a really interesting book about the history and backstory of different alcohol and cocktails, and as a result, we decided to keep more of a complete bar in our home.

Moving to Canada, this was the wrong time to decide to diversify our drinking.  For example, Woodford Reserve Bourbon is $25 at the LCBO (Liquor Control Board of Ontario) and $18.90 at the ABC (Alcohol Beverage Control) store in Virginia, both state-run liquor stores.

Our next door neighbors offered us a fantastic glass of wine at their house. After complimenting them on it, we discovered that they had "made" it themselves at a local winery.  Here, you begin by adding yeast to the grapes and juice, and then you leave the mix in the winery for about 2 months, where they care for it.  Next, you go back to the winery where you bottle and label your wines.  Then you can enjoy.

We bottled Amarone-style wine, which goes for about $30 a bottle in the LCBO, and we've been really happy with our wine.  We named our wine "Phoney Baloney Amarone" and  "it's a terrible situation" after a story from one of J's co-workers.  We were able to get 30 bottles for about $250 and the cost of the bottles.  We can reuse the bottles the next time we bottle wine, so we don't recycle these bottles, we rinse them and save them for next time.

According to Judy at our winery, on-premises winemaking is popular in places like California, but may or may not be available in certain states, depending on local laws.  We ordered our wine from a kit, but some places may be more hands-on.  It was really fun.

I have fun pictures of this, but am having problems syncing my phone with my computer and got someone else's cloud pics so this time, no pics. But I didn't stomp on grapes like I expected either. Maybe next time.

My Mom Got A Tattoo. Really.

"What color do you want your tattoo to be?" Gabe, our tattoo artist, asks.
"Do you have Chanel pink?" my sister asks.
"No, but I have titty nipple pink."

My family is in Charleston, SC for the memorial service for my Aunt.  Her name was Kathleen Andrews, but everyone in our family called her Craze.

In honor of her crazy spirit, some of the women in our family thought we should get tattoos.  Mainly me, and my cousin Carla. We were so enthusiastic that my mom and sister may have gotten caught up in the excitement.

I don't know the last time you took your mom to a tattoo parlor, but I highly advise that you do it soon, with your entire family, if possible*.

We decided to get butterflies. It is in honor of a story that was told often by my aunt Craze, about a butterfly who needs to experience the struggle himself in order to be strong enough to be independent and free.  Interestingly, I was reminded of a parallel quote we used from the GT/AAP office about "stealing a child's struggle" and instead letting them work through the hard part to achieve their own accomplishments.

My mom and Carla got the same tattoo, pictured above. My more reluctant sister and I got this butterfly tattoo**, below:

I was pretty excited to go to get another tattoo, and I had also long wanted a daisy on my toe, so I also got one of those. It was from a camp song at girl scout camp. Ah, the lifelong positive influence of girl scouts.

The story gets better: this song is originally by the Smothers Brothers, and from an album called "Mom Always Liked You Best."

Tattoo Song:

There's a daisy on my toe

It is not real, it does not grow

It's just a tattoo of a flower

So I'll look cool while taking a shower

It's on the second toe of my left foot

A stem and flower, it has no root

Why? 'Cause that wouldn't look good!

There's a daisy on my toe

My right foot loves my left foot so! 

The actual lyrics are slightly different, but this is how I learned the song. I've wanted this tattoo for over 20 years.

Craze continues to extend her positive influence, even through she is not physically around.  I am filled with sadness and grief at her absence, and so much joy at watching the dolphins play in the water just off the water of where we are staying.  I am glad to see our family, and know that she is sitting on my shoulder, laughing with us and amazed at our whimsy.  My heart is glad to be in the place where I married J 10 years ago, and show my children the beach where we committed to each other.

I will miss Craze so much. She is the one who gave me my first Barbie doll, when my mom wouldn't. She was the fun Aunt, giving me popcorn for breakfast, taking me on adventures, letting me dress up and create parades through her house, play dog with her dog Polly, and creating another safe place for me.  She was always loving and fun.  She took this love to everyone she helped, and she helped so many.  I hope I can live my life, like her, in the spirit of love.

*Worried that I took my kids to a sketchy tattoo parlor? Don't be. We made reservations. It was a highly reputable tattoo parlor.  As far as those things go. Or, as I described it to J, a gallery of live body art.  S slept through most, E played on the phone. Do you feel better about it now? I'm probably the only person to drive a minivan and wheel a double stroller into this place.

**Worried we will regret this? My mom did. As we are driving home, mom asks, "do you think we'll regret this?"  "There isn't any buyer's remorse, mom," H says. "This s*%& is permanent."
But we're enjoying them so far.