Last summer I had a chance to go glamping and even though I brought three kids (my 2 and my niece) it was both relaxing and fun. They couldn’t get over how fancy our ‘tent’ was. Read about my experience on Look Local magazine. The article was so popular it had over 900 kits in the 2 days after it was posted. Can’t wait to find another place to get my glamp on.
I’m not sure whether to laugh or feel really bad.
Last night my daughter lost a baby tooth. Every time she’d bite her food it would hurt. Oh, and the adult tooth was growing right behind it and it was probably telling the baby tooth to get the fuck out of the way.
Every night after we put Soph to bed she always finds an excuse to come back downstairs. One time it was to bring my slippers that I’d forgotten in her room, another night it was for some random toy that she tried to smuggle her iPod in to bring back to bed, another time it was to get a drink of water even though the bathroom is right next to hers and there’s a cup right in there.
Last night she came down with a mouthful of blood and said she pulled her tooth. Oh! OK. I gave her something to wipe up with and off to bed she went. I semi-consciously told myself the Tooth Fairy better visit before I went to bed.
This morning she showed me the Toonie from the Tooth Fairy. I didn’t end up doing my TF job and I know for a fact that Boobs didn’t do it.
So, it’s one of those times that I’m glad she doesn’t tidy her room much and there’s often loose change on her dresser.
Poor thing. Maybe I’ll confess one day.
Last weekend I took my two kids on the 2nd annual Farm Crawl within Hamilton’s Greenbelt. Once we drove past Waterdown along Highway 5, it was a nice chance to not see a single big box chain or fast food joint during our entire 60km route. That doesn’t happen too often for me. We drove to Dundas, Copetown and Troy.
There were 4 distinctly different farms to visit and enjoy the farm animals, the fruits of each farm’s labour (aka ruby red raspberries) and see working bee hives and lavender in full fragrant bloom.
We started at about 11am and didn’t finish at our final farm until after 3:30pm. Both kids were entirely occupied by the sights and experiences at each farm, and I will definitely go again next year. I really hope that other towns/counties and rural regions think about offering the same experience.
Grace didn’t eat her sandwich for lunch; it was past nap time, plus she was more interested in the chocolate milk. Anyway, I ate the rest and that bread, butter and rubbery processed dairy product sent my mind back to summer: specifically our annual road trips to Cape Cod.
My dad hated flying so we drove everywhere. That’s EVERYWHERE (across both sides of Canada, all over the US) so my mom had to pack a ton of food in the bright orange Coleman cooler. We’d get up super early (I was always up first) and go. I’m pretty sure we ate them at the cottage too once we were down there.
Maybe Grace didn’t eat the sandwich because she has more refined taste than that, and was looking for the old cheddar that I usually use.
You know that long, drawn-out, lonely, ?@#? expanse of time between the end of the school day and when your husband gets home? Especially if he’s working late?
5 out of 5 moms agree, that that gaping black hole of time when it’s just you and your kids can suck. Out of sheer boredom, cabin fever, or being out in public – hearing other people chat instead of your kids squabbling – is often essential at these times (but also bad for the budget if you go shopping).
Boobs has to work late. If I was any kind of crafty person, I’d be arranging crafts, kiddy DIY projects or baking with my kids. I really should be doing that, but instead I’m dreaming of eating at my favourite Thai restaurant to be waited on, or going to Ikea for mystery meatballs and some ställningen. Even going to the Dollar store is an option.
It looks like it’s going to rain soon and since I probably won’t want to lug the kids around in the rain…home it is.
But oh, peanut curry………
I’ve been doing a little (too much) online shopping lately, but I think that I must have this! A fully-looped ecosystem with benefits that I can have in my own home! The instructions look so simple: just add the fish and watch your ecosystem take off!
Soph would get the fish she’s been bugging me for, I’d get all kinds o herbs to cook with in the kitchen (or just stare at on occasion and/or smell) AND I wouldn’t have to clean the tank. Bo-nus!
Screw those sea monkeys she wanted!
It seems I don’t have leisurely blogging time anymore. Hmph. Well, that’s because in January we adopted our second daughter, “Little Buddha” from Thailand.
She fits into our family like a magical glass slipper. Even though she’s 2 years old, it’s like she was always here. It hasn’t taken us long to get to know her. Man, does she make some funny faces. She also puts on a great one-man dance party.
There are some things I’ve got experience with being a mom/parent, some things I don’t. I missed some of Soph’s developmental stages (22 months worth, actually). And for our new daughter G, we haven’t been able to spend her first two years together as a family. That’s what comes along with adoption.
Trying to conceive: yes, been there, didn’t do that, even after trials of various methods. Sure, it was difficult at the time, but I’m more than over it. Oh, and one useless (IMHO) fertility doc and one much better one later who told me I had premature ovarian failure (POF), we had two options: IVF or adoption. Right away I knew…
Adoption: was absolutely right for us.
Gestation: though physically irrelevant for me, people going through the adoption process, there is definitely a mental thought process centered around nesting, prepping, paperwork, and the idea of meeting a fully-formed little being with its own habits and personality traits already developed.
There’s the curve ball that gets thrown at you when you think you’ve still got another whole year to get your poop together and pick away at those nasty forms that have to be filled out for immigration.
Then there’s the phone call you get from the adoption agency asking you if you’ve filled out that nasty immigration form because you are matched with a baby and you may travel within 4 – 6 weeks to bring her home.
We were matched? With a girl? WOOHOO! Soph gets her sister after all. There was a time when we said she might be getting a brother, but maybe somehow she knew what would turn out in the end and insisted it would be a girl.
Travel overseas: immanent. Days away. A handful of sleeps, really. Soph’s spending her first night in her newly-decorated bedroom (that was once the guestroom). And at 9:55pm, she’s still not asleep. I just had to lure a cat out of her room with treats.
After many trips looking for curtains at more than one store and back again to make returns for those curtains, tomorrow I have to move all of her clothes, books and toys into the new space and get the other room set up for G. Plus Soph still needs a hamper, pictures put on the wall, etc.
Tomorrow after I take Soph to school, I’ll have fun doing a little bedroom decor shopping.
I can’t even plan well enough to dress my child in something extra nice for her photo with Santa.
OK I have two excuses, well, just one: we were in a rush and I dressed her in something semi-festivish-wintry-a-la-holiday shirt. She threw on her boots, grabbed a stuffy and we were out the door to the mall.
The photo turned out great – no complaints about that. In the car I had a sudden thought. “I hope I didn’t dress her in the same shirt that she wore for her picture last year,” I told Boobs.
Well, the new photo and last year’s are side-by-side. Same Santa. Same big green chair. Same effing shirt! The only proof I have that it’s a different year: she’s holding a different stuffy, wearing different boots and the year 2012 is printed on the bottom.