A Letter to my Spirited Child

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Today you screamed for two hours because I wouldn't give you juice.

I try to be patient, I really do. I know deep in my heart that you don't hate me. That you aren't doing this out of spite. I understand that in toddlerland there is no such thing as moderation and the fact that you had already drank your juice quota for the day is irrelevant to you. I get that, in your head, the rules of possession state that apple juice in the fridge belongs to you and only you and that when you saw me pour a glass you saw that as stealing. Unfortunately after the first half an hour of screaming my nerves were shot and I was more short tempered than usual.

I cried.

Just a few tears of frustration. My body's natural release whenever I am stressed. I'm still puzzled by the fact that you continued screaming even after I broke down and finally gave you the juice. What's with that? I think at that point you had forgotten what it was you were crying about and were so worked up you were just crying for the sake of crying. Nice touch with the flopping onto the floor and kicking your feet by the way. Very dramatic. I might have been able to see the humor in it if you hadn't told me to f*** off when I picked you up. You remember? Right after you bit me?

I cried.

More tears of frustration. Some days it is so damn hard to not lose my temper. It takes every ounce of patience I possess to stop myself from yelling. It's not that it hurt when you bit me, certainly not as much as it hurt your sister when you bit her this morning, it's more that when I see you lashing out it makes me question my abilities as a parent. I should have been able to nip this whole biting thing in the bud a long time ago. I feel like I failed you. You can count to ten and sing "Twinkle Twinkle" in its entirety. How am I not able to get you to understand that biting hurts. As far as the language goes, well, you don't know what it means. You probably overheard me on the phone, dropping f-bombs while I chat to my friends. That my fault. I'm not punishing you for swearing. It's the biting. I couldn't just let it slide. That's why I put you in time out.

YOU cried.

I know you hate time outs. I wouldn't like them very much either. They weren't an option when I was growing up. I got a slap across the face when I misbehaved. Or a strap across the back of my legs. Neither was very effective but they sure gave me pause. Mostly I paused thinking about how much I hated my family. It never made me stop and think about what I had done wrong. Apparently I'm supposed to be biting you back. I don't quite get how this is supposed to discourage you from biting, especially since you model so many of your behaviors after me. This is why we do time outs. I gotta say though, the end result seems to be the same. Especially when you told me you hated me.

I cried again.

This time it was ugly crying. Body wracking sobs of pain. I don't know why. You don't even know what you were saying. You're two. What do you know about hate? Besides, of course, your hate for vegetables. I don't know where you picked that up from. TV? Do we need to be more careful of what we watch when you're around? When I am moaning about doing housework do I need to start spelling out my distaste for folding laundry? Especially when you grab a pile of your sisters neatly folded clothes and throw them over the railing.

I stopped crying.

I sat down with you on the couch. I got down to eye level with you and told you I was sad. You put your chubby arms around my neck and told me "Don't be sad Mummy". You went and grabbed your smelly blanket, the one you wont let me wash when you're awake. You climbed into my lap and put the blanket around us both. "Snuggle?" you asked tentatively, as if you were afraid of my answer. The smile that lights up your face when I say "Of course we can snuggle" is priceless. It is the look of a blind man seeing the sun for the very first time. We lay there on the couch, big spoon and little spoon, watching Dora the Explorer. I can smell the oatmeal and vanilla of your shampoo as I kiss the top of your head and breathe in deep. All is forgotten, all is right with the world. In ten perfect minutes we have erased hours of tension and frustration. In ten perfect minutes we reset the clock to zero. You reach your tiny hand out, grab my arm and pull it around you.

I cried.

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No Cure For The Summertime Blues

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I have always believed that summer is a time for relaxation. A time to relax your stringent rules and schedules and go with the flow. Wear floaty bohemian skirts and pile your hair on top of your head in a messy bun. Barbecue things wrapped in tinfoil. Splash carelessly in the surf with your flip flops in your hand. Embrace your inner hippy.

Then I had children.

I freaking hate summer.



"Why no, I don't have kids...How can you tell?"

Did you know that this is the first chance I have had to write in my blog since the end of July? I used to have a faithful following, now they have probably all forgotten me. I cant blame them. Who wants to re-read old blog posts. I wish I could return to those halcyon days when I actually had a spare hour once in a while to write. Now I'm lucky if I have time to have a shower.

Summertime is a never ending flow of visitors and visiting. We have spent a grand total of five minutes at home this month. Every weekend there is another round of relatives to visit, barbeques and trips to the park/beach/fair. A day at the beach requires planning, packing and all the tactical skills of a military manoeuvre. There are no spur of the moment trips when you have two toddlers. By the time you get the kids dressed and sun screened, the diaper bags packed, snacks made and car seats loaded half the day has passed. We are constantly rushing here and there and sometimes, when the stars are aligned just right, we are lucky enough to get the kids home before bedtime. Routines go out the window and are replaced with tantrums thrown by kids who are overtired and overstimulated. Packing the kids into the car after a day at the beach? Be prepared to have people in the parking lot look at you like you're the worst parent ever. It's a reasonable assumption when they see you wrestling your screaming child into a carseat, especially when darling daughter is screaming "No mommy, please, NOOOO" and you are standing there, red in the face with a vein on your forehead about to pop.

Quick, grab her before she gets away again.

I sometimes envy my single friends...the ones without kids that is. They are out there, making the most of the great weather. They are being spontaneous. There they are, sitting on the beach and BAM! A friend with a boat motors up near them:
"Hey, wanna go for a cruise up the lake?"
" Sure, why not. I don't have any plans."

Here's how that conversation goes when you have two toddlers:
"Hey, wanna go for a cruise up the lake?"
"Sure, let me find Mr. Zinga. I'm sure he'll watch the kids for a little bit. Crap, he's all the way out on the dock. I guess I could take the kids. Do you have any life jackets? Oh right, you don't have kids, why would you have kids life jackets. Tell you what, why don't you come back in half an hour, I might be able to get Mr. Zinga's attention and then I might be able to get him to watch the kids and..."
Friend with boat moves on to next group of friends.
"Hey, wanna go for a cruise up the lake?"

Number 67543 on the list of things they don't tell you about being a parent: Your single friends will suddenly abandon you faster than you can say "Someone needs a diaper change."

Hey, where did everybody go?

There are a lot of things that I hate about summer. The hustle and bustle, the stress and the heat. The tourists, the traffic and the overcrowded beaches. Long line ups at the market and longer line ups at the ice cream stand. The fact that I can never wear a two piece bathing suit again.

First world problems I know.

There are a lot of good things about summer too. I'm not a total hater. I like to garden, I like to barbeque and I am not averse to spending time suntanning in the backyard while my oldest daughter runs through the sprinkler. My family loves the summer and because I love them I put on a brave face and pretend to be enjoying myself. Doesn't stop me from eagerly awaiting the changing leaves of Autumn. I tolerate the heat and humidity, for three very good reasons.



CeeCee Zinga (Left), Parker Zinga (Bottom Right) and Mr. Zinga (Top) 

My crusty faced, sun loving babies and my wonderful (thankfully NOT crusty faced) husband.




All Stock Photos: Free Digital Photos
Bottom Photo : Mr. Zinga Pin It

Avoiding the Grandparent Trap

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You guys ever had this happen to you?

You're having a great morning with your kids: cartoons are on, everyone got fed without incident, your oldest child is running around in a diaper with rubber boots on the wrong feet waving a magic wand (What? That only happens to me?). Everything is going swimmingly and then...BAM. The doorbell rings. Nana pops in for a visit on her way to work. You love her but you can't help but wince internally. There goes your peace and quiet for the rest of the day. She means well but she manages to wind your kids up like clockwork mice every time she see's them. Your children adore her because with her every day is a holiday, drum sets are perfectly reasonable gifts for toddlers and lollipops are one of the four major food groups.


It's not her fault. Her grandmother did it to her, her mother did it to you and one day you will get to do it to your grand kids. It's the circle of life. It is a grandparents privilege...no...it is their responsibility to spoil the crap out of your kids. She is under obligation to every generation of grandmothers before her to continue this time honored tradition, effing up your routines and systems. You see, when she was raising you, her mother made a half joking prediction. She said that one day you were going to grow up to be a handful, and that you were going to give your mother all the grey hairs that your mother gave her. Sound familiar? She probably said the same thing to you when your child was born.

Then she set out to make it a reality.

"I'm not spoiling them dear, I'm just being a good Grandma."

Being a grandmother means never having to say no. It doesn't make sense. She had no problem telling you no when you were growing up. It's as though she was given a finite number of no's and then wasted them all on you. Now everything is yes. Staying up past bedtime? Yes. Candy for breakfast? Yes. Dirt bikes for their birthday. Hell to the yes!!! Grandma is the toddler equivalent of a rock star. She gets to do all the things with them that she wished she could have done with you. The problem was she was too busy raising you and trying to keep you from drawing on the car with a rock and/or licking an electrical outlet. Now she is making up for lost time.

She doesn't have to do the whole disciplinarian thing. That's YOUR job. She gets to play now. They didn't have any of these cool toys when she had you. When you were a baby you had a rattle, a teddy bear and a favorite blankie. If you were really lucky you got a walker with wheels, guaranteed to send you headfirst down whatever set of stairs was closest. Thanks to the combined efforts of both sets of grandparents your kids have toys worth the GDP of a small country. Why the bounty now? Easy. She doesn't have to buy diapers anymore. She can afford the fun stuff. I suspect she might have stock in Toys "R" Us.

"An Xbox is a great present...Yes, I know she's only three, whats that got to do with anything?"

So, how do you avoid a rift in your relationship with your mother while ensuring she respects YOUR rights as a mother? The same way you eat an elephant. One bite at a time. You can't change her and you shouldn't want to. She might drive you batshit crazy but her heart is in the right place. Really, can you ever hold a grudge against someone who loves your kids so much that she is willing to let them use her as a jungle gym for hours on end? Not to mention enduring endless hours of "Ring Around The Rosie" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider". You can't change her but you can change the way you look at her. Here are a few useful suggestions to get the most out of her visits and get some precious alone time while you are at it.

Draw your line in the sand.

Let her know what's negotiable and what's not. She gave your kid a second helping of cake for dessert without asking you first? Meh...not the end of the world. She gave your child a big ice cream cone and a milkshake because she doesn't believe he's actually lactose intolerant, you are just overreacting? Ok, that's crossing a line. Remember that this is YOUR house and as long as she is under your roof she needs to abide by your rules. Just pick your battles wisely. Keeping them up past their bedtime probably isn't worth starting a family feud over. Causing them physical pain or discomfort, albeit unintentionally, is grounds for a showdown. In my house I can shrug pretty much anything off with an eyeroll and a glass of wine BUT when it comes to the safety and health of my children I will pitch a fit (out of sight of the kids of course, they don't need to see friction between the authority figures in their lives).


Make her bring food.

This is especially important if you have new babies in the house. This technique was perfected by my own mother, who realized early on that even the most unwelcome visitor will be graciously received...provided she has Indian takeaway and ice cream. Nothing says "Sorry for dropping by unannounced at the worst possible time." better than a big plate of Butter Chicken and a double scoop of Pralines and Cream.

Get her to babysit.

So, she want's to come for a visit, eh? That is a fantastic opportunity to go get your hair did, do some errands or even just take a shower for twenty minutes, uninterrupted. Shave something, for Pete's sake. After all, she knows how to take care of kids. She raised you didn't she? Granted it wasn't as stressful back then, before the internet made us all paranoid about our parenting skills. Just make sure she knows how to open the childproof locks on the fridge and garbage cans before you leave (trust me on this one)

Let her clean.

Are you like me? Do you shoo people away when they try to help? STOP THAT. Ok, so it is a little annoying when you open your dishwasher and the plates aren't how you like them and the dryer is stacked with a pile of towels folded the wrong way. Suck it up, put it all away and be grateful you didn't have to do it yourself. It's not as easy to bitch about how much extra work grandma visits are if you actually let her pitch in and help. Just because she wants to tell you the "right" way to sort cutlery doesn't mean you have to listen. Just smile and nod and take the help.

Stash the Toys.

She showed up at your house with yet another pile of toys for the kids, despite the fact that you have asked her repeatedly not to spoil them. Who says you have to give them all to the kids at once? Put your foot down. You might not be able to stop her from shopping but you can control how you dole out the gifts. Give the kids a couple and put the rest away in a closet. Wrap them up for Christmas, Birthdays, Groundhog Day. Whatever holiday you want. Did she bring a ridiculously age inappropriate toy? Tell her you will gladly hang on to that electric guitar until your infant is old enough to appreciate it. Make sure it's her name on the tag so the kids know who to thank and make sure there are no live animals involved. Decomposing hamsters make lousy presents.

"They're going to love her...Do you think we should have asked first? Nah, didn't think so"

Finally

Respect Her Wisdom

All jokes aside, as irritating as her behavior can be remember this; Whatever you are going through with your kids, chances are she went through it too. She might piss you off from time to time but she is a sympathetic ear. She understands why you have bald spots, she tore out a few clumps of her own hair when you were a kid too. She knows a home remedy for every complaint and, at the very least, will make you a nice hot cup of tea and listen to you vent. She knows how to get rid of colic, earaches and can diagnose chicken pox and slather your kid in Calamine lotion faster than you can Google the symptoms. She will never judge you, even if she doesn't understand you. She might be their grandma but she will always be your mom.

"You actually WANT my opinion? Really? Are you feeling OK?"

And she did a pretty damn good job with you!



All Images: Ambro at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
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Stay At Home Mom vs. Working Mom. Who's Right?

Pin It I recently wrote an article about being a stay at home mom (SAHM). I thought it was pretty tame. I tend not to get overly judgmental over how other people parent...I got that out of my system when I was pregnant for the first time. No one is a better parent than someone without kids right? But that's a whole post for another day. Let's save that little chestnut, cause it's worth coming back to.

This article, which I thought was fair and balanced (and not in that icky FOX news kind of way), sparked some interesting discussion on a couple of forums. Some of the comments actually got pretty heated, mostly due to people making asshat assumptions about what being a SAHM is really about.

I was told it was intentionally inflammatory. Me? Inflammatory? No way.

Bitchy? Absolutely. Sarcastic and snarky? Sure, but never intentionally inflammatory.

I was told that it was biased, since it only discussed being a SAHM.

Really? I AM a SAHM. I wouldn't write an article, for example, about being a dolphin, or an astronaut.

All of a sudden, it's on like Donkey Kong.

Stay at Home Mom Vs. Working Mom.
Round 1675.
Ding, ding, ding.

Oh, hell no! Did she just say daycare is raising my kids?

This is a battle that will never be won, yet it still gets rehashed and reenacted more often than the Civil War. The thing you gotta realize about this particular catfight...some people are really touchy about their choices. When those choices involve how they parent...well, the gloves are coming off. There is also a certain type of woman who believes so strongly that she is right that anyone who disagrees must be, obviously, wrong. When these two traits meet in one person, head for your zombie apocalypse bunker. (What? You don't have one?) We are talking about a meltdown of nuclear proportions. In a perfect world we could all just live our lives the way it made sense for us, without all the judgement from other people.

The internet is FAR from a perfect world.

Having said that I thought it might be a hoot to actually BE intentionally inflammatory. Why the heck not? I have been branded as such and I would really hate to make a liar out of anyone. Besides, no one wants to hear the boring truth anyway. It is WAY more fun to use hackneyed stereotypes and gross generalizations. Before anyone decides to flame me I have to add this disclaimer:

The following examples are composites of shameless stereotypes. It's called parody. If you are offended by satire I would suggest not reading further. It is bitchy, snarky and in poor taste. If you persist in reading and find yourself offended I would suggest rereading the first part of this disclaimer.

You haz been warned:)

That article was so offensive...where's my brain bleach?

The Stay At Home Mom

The SAHM is a better mother than you.
Period.
She is actually raising her kids, thankyouverymuch, and isn't afraid to denounce the working mother for "outsourcing" her children. She can take her kids to the park on a Tuesday afternoon if she wants to. She probably won't...but she could if she wanted to. She has the freedom and spontaneity to be as lazy as she wants to be, anytime, anywhere.
She knows that her kids are going to grow up healthier and happier because mommy was around to watch daytime television them grow up. She judges mothers who look well groomed. In her eyes you must sport a ponytail with roots, yoga pants and a sweatshirt with spit up on the shoulder in order to be a proper mother.  Her husband sympathizes with her needs, like when she needs a night out. He has no problem watching the kids for a couple of hours so she can unwind after a busy day of doing...nothing much. Beats the hell out of listening to her nag about how she has no one over the age of three to talk to all day.
She is the busiest person you will ever meet. She spends most of her day on the internet, whining about how hard her life is. She hasn't cleaned her house yet today, she just hasn't had time. She was too busy posting a never ending stream of "inspirational quotes" about motherhood to her Facebook timeline. Her Pinterest boards are jammed full of crafts she will never make and food she will never cook. Despite her lack of enthusiasm for all things domestic she is able to maintain an aura of smug superiority about her homemade laundry soap.
It is SOOO tough being a Stay At Home Martyr Mother. Especially when all the major networks cut away from Channing Tatum's appearance on Live! with Kelly Ripa (NSFW) to cover the stupid President and his healthcare bill.

"Tell me again how hard you have it. How's that indoor plumbing working out for you?"

 

The Working Mom

The working mom is a better mother than you.
Period.
She is setting an example for her children thankyouverymuch. She has drive, ambition and childcare. She went into labour at a board meeting and STILL managed to stick it out until the coffee and donuts ran out. Her kids are going to grow up knowing about responsibility and hard work. She is teaching them valuable lessons, that is to say, she hired the people who are teaching them valuable lessons.
Same thing.
She pities women who choose to be homemakers, they are so obviously lacking motivation. She manages to juggle 10 hour workdays, soccer games and still finds time to do Zumba three days a week. If she can do it, anyone can. She is climbing that corporate ladder and she doesn't care whose backs she has to step on, even it they belong to her family. It's for their own good. She scoffs at those who call her husband henpecked. It's just more efficient for her to make all the decisions. She is the CEO of their home. Someone has to keep the staff in line. It's hard work!
She also spends most of her day on the internet whining about how hard her life is, the only difference is she logs on from her office. She schedules play dates around her conference calls and get her hair foiled on her lunch break, being a mother is no excuse for shoddy roots. She is a better mother when she doesn't have to spend the whole day with her children. Spending time with your kids is overrated. She needs more stimulation than that. She needs to interact with that cute guy in Human Resources grown ups. She plans on sending her kids off to boarding school ASAP. That way she can continue her career uninterrupted. She's going to miss them though. The company newsletter is coming up and they look great in her profile picture.
Maybe she can hire a couple of stand ins?

"Darling, the new Swedish nanny starts on Monday"

I have painted a couple of pretty extreme and obviously fictional pictures here. No one really lives like that, right? Right? There are a million ways to be a mom, none of them right or wrong. Even if someone judges you for the way you parent just take comfort in the fact that someone, somewhere, is judging them for the way they parent. There are a lot of people in this world, blinders firmly in place, gathering stones to throw from the comfort of their glass balconies. Doesn't bother me. My house is made of rubber. Shit just bounces off.

What is YOUR house made of?

Photo Credit: All photos courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net Pin It

Stay At Home Moms: Worth Their Weight In Gold

Pin It Any stay at home moms (SAHM's) in the room?

C'mon, raise your hand, don't be shy. It is nothing to be ashamed of. I know how hard you work, I'm right there too. Complete with judgement from other people about how much I don't do every day. Apparently SAHM automatically conjures images of a slovenly woman lazing on the couch, eating bon-bons and watching soap operas. Oh how I wish it was true.

I would love to be able to do nothing all day. I am lazy...There, I said it, someone had to. Anyone who knows me will tell you the same thing. I don't want to work. I want to win the lottery and spend the rest of my life in comfort in a big house with a staff of domestics to do all the heavy lifting. I want to have a luxury car and a driver to take me and the kids wherever we need to go. I want a cook to make me delicious meals every day, a housekeeper to manage my staff and a chambermaid to fluff up my feather bed. I would love to have an Au pair to keep my children pristine all day and wipe their runny noses...Le Sigh.

Instead my life is filled with snotty faces, poopy diapers and seemingly endless piles of laundry. My work day starts at seven am and ends at eleven pm when I drag my tired, overworked ass to bed for a well deserved sleep...at least, until two, when Parker wants her nightly feeding. I work six days a week and I get one day off, where I get to dress up, fix my hair and go to my "real" job, as a hairdresser. Thats right people, going to work is my idea of a day off. I get to talk to grown ups, I get to make some money, I seldom get thrown up on and my clients are, for the most part, already potty trained.

No matter how you slice it, as a SAHM I work my ass off. Oddly enough my house does not reflect this. It is frequently untidy, with a minefield of mega blocks ready to hobble you as soon as you set foot in my living room. This is life with a toddler. To those working mom's who don't get why it is so hard to keep up with housework I have one word. Daycare. That's right. If your kid is in daycare they aren't messing up your house. They are messing up someone elses house. Someone who is getting paid to clean up after them. Enjoy it, because the alternative sucks. I vacuum three times a day. Doesn't matter. I still find cheerios in the toybox. I feel like the guy in the circus who follows the elephants around with a broom cleaning up their crap all day. That's me. Cleaning up crap. All. Damn. Day. It's not always bad, some days are better than others. At least one day a week I just say screw it and leave the toys all over the place and the dishes in the sink. These are usually the days someone will drop by unannounced for a visit and then cut their eyes at the mess in my house. *Face palm*. I suspect this is how the stereotype of the lazy SAHM was born. Everybody and their dog has a cell phone these days. How hard is it to call and say "Hey I'm going to drop by in half an hour". I can make my place look presentable in ten minutes. With a half an hour I can make it sparkle, at least in the rooms that company sees. 

Mommy, watch me throw these blocks all over the place

Don't even get me started on the laundry. How two little people manage to generate so much laundry is beyond me. I am usually so busy doing their laundry that mine gets neglected. Thankfully Mr. Zinga does his own, it might not get folded and put away for a few days but he does it. Then there's the cooking. We choose to eat a lot of whole foods, some processed but mostly whole. I make our bread, four loaves every week. Three for us and one to give away. I cook from scratch most of the time. I made most of CeeCee's baby food and I intend to make the bulk of Parker's too. If I worked a full time job there is NO WAY I would have the patience for that. When I was working we ate take out all the time or threw some Hamburger Helper together at the last minute. I refuse to feed my kids that way.

I also have to budget. We aren't poor but we are a one income family, well two if you count my Maternity Leave, which is still only a fraction of what I used to make. Also it runs out in November. A lot of times I hear the argument that "I can't afford to be a SAHM". In my case I can't afford not to be. In a good month at work I clear anywhere from $1400 to $1700. I am worth WAY more than that as a SAHM. Lets do the math.

• Full time daycare for two kids. $1400 to $1600 a month
• Cleaning lady. $15-$20 bucks an hour. Two six hour days a week would run $180 a week or $720 a month. And they don't all do laundry.
• Laundry service $60-$80 a month
• Take out three night a week for two adults one child, $240 a month

I'm already over $2600 a month and I haven't even factored in the amount of overtime I should make putting in 16 hour days!

Mommy, you need to learn to relax, like me:)

It's OK though. I got to play with my oldest daughter for a solid hour this morning and she was being way too adorable. Then my youngest daughter woke up and I got to watch her and her sister interact with each other. After CeeCees nap we will colour, or read books. Maybe later we'll go play in the puddles in the backyard. I'll make us all a yummy dinner and as much as I whine about laundry I love the smell of baby clothes when they come out of the dryer. In between chores I get to write and do research for my book. Hell, I'm nursing Parker right now! One thing about being a SAHM. The pay sucks and it is back breaking work but the schedule is flexible.

I am not trying to take anything away from full time working moms. Or work at home moms (WAHM's) for that matter. I think being a mom has to be the hardest job in the world, no matter how you choose to do it. I am only speaking from MY experience. In my experience I am overworked, underpaid and often judged. People ask me if I plan on working at a "real" job when my maternity leave runs out. I tell them I have a real job. I am an early childhood educator, cleaning lady, chef, chauffeur, nurse and referee. Why would I want a real job when I already have the best job. I am Mom. I wouldn't have it any other way.

At least until those lottery tickets start paying off.





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Birthday Party or Seventh Circle of Hell

Pin It Nothing brings out the worst in me like a kid's birthday party.

I don't get it, I must be abnormal. Kids parties are joyous occasions right? Balloons and cake and games...and crying...and fighting over toys...and someone puking in a corner...

Are we having fun yet?

Stab me in the eye with a plastic fork and get it over with.

Yesterday we went to an amazing party for a friends son. I love my friend and she really does throw a great party. It was a Batman theme and she had made capes and masks for all the kids, the cake was a fancy fondant Gotham City in miniature, even the lollipops had capes. The birthday boy had a special visit from The Dark Knight himself (his uncle in a rented suit, shh, it's our little secret). The weather was beautiful, the snacks were plentiful and the kids had a great time and behaved beautifully.

I'm the only freak that didn't thoroughly enjoy herself.

The timing might have had something to do with it. For the record, Sunday mornings are for sleeping. It is the one day of the week that I can snuggle in bed with my babies after having a leisurely (and well deserved after a week of night feedings) lie in. It's a day for eating pancakes, sipping coffee while I share the paper with my hubby and puttering around the house.

After our ironic pillow fight can you iron my chinos so I can grab a soy milk latte?

Instead my Sunday went a little something like this:

• Wake up at 8:30 instead of usual 10:00. (What is this, a weekday?) Pour a cup of much needed coffee.
• Hastily wrap present for the birthday boy, despite best intentions of wrapping it the night before. Rejoice in the fact that I am not wrapping it in the car on the way to the party, as I usually do.
• Plan getting ready down to the last minute "I'll get CeeCee showered while you change Parker's butt, then I'll bathe Parker while you get CeeCee dressed, then you can dress Parker while I get showered..."
• Realize that planning has taken too long and I now no longer have time to shower. Take slug of coffee only to realize that it is cold and has a Cheerio floating in it. (Thanks CeeCee)
• Abandon attempt at styling uncooperative hair and slap on a headband. Toy with the idea of makeup and then decide it isn't worth it.
  
• Pack kids into car and rush to arrive on time. Arrive late anyway. Realize that despite arriving late we are still one of the first families to show up.
• Make awkward small talk with other mothers, who I don't know, about their kids, who I also don't know.
• Accidentally knock my friends toddler face first onto the ground (It could happen to anybody people. He zigged, I zagged. It wasn't intentional. STOP STARING AT ME) Luckily kids are apparently made of rubber and the little tyke was none the worse for wear, although he kept his distance for the rest of the day. Can't blame him, I'm the mean lady that beats up little kids for fun
• Watch my child consume Cheetos, hot dogs, cape wearing lollipops and a large-ish slice of the Gotham City Police Dept. Mentally prepare for the sugar crash and/or tummy ache later.

What do you MEAN I can't have cake for supper!

CeeCee is a Spirited Child, that means that she can be very intense most of the time. I was surprised to see that she wasn't bouncing off the walls. In fact she was very introverted and looked almost sad. I don't know if it was the change in her routine or the fact that she was surrounded by strangers but it took her forever to warm up. By the time she hit her stride it was, of course, time to pack up and go home. After a power nap in the car she was good as new. 

In the end it was worth it. The birthday boy got spoiled, his mom got a reputation as the best party planner ever, CeeCee kept down all her food and as for Mr. Zinga and myself we got the best present ever.

CeeCee as Batgirl

Our very own superhero:)

Photo Credits:

1 - Arvind Balaraman / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

2 -  photostock / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

3 -  arztsamui / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

4 - Me and Instagram:)

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Fun With Magnets - Magnet Board Tutorial

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Pinterest is going to be the death of me.
I'm actually not exaggerating...much.

Ways Pinterest could kill me:

• Mr. Zinga could get sick of coming home to an untidy house and strangle me.
• My cholesterol level rising from yummy food ideas could result in massive heart failure.
• Accidental decapitation with a Skil Saw while repurposing pallets.  

 I'm fine, really. It's not a problem. I can stop pinning anytime I want to...I just don't want to.


I fell in love with the idea of making a magnet board for CeeCee the first time I saw one, on Pinterest of course. There are magnet boards for organizing makeup, keeping craft supplies tidy and I even saw one that had what looked like an herb garden growing on it. Considering how many different shapes and sizes they come in I was surprised there weren't more options for kids. Kids love magnets, mine does anyway, but magnets can be kind of sketchy. I don't know whats scarier, the risk of them choking or the risk of them swallowing two and having them stick together in their tummy. I decided the only way I was going to be comfortable with CeeCee playing with magnets was if I made them myself. My problem is I am horrible at crafts. I always start with the best intentions but usually end up swearing, bleeding and/or scrolling endlessly through the pages of Regretsy, thinking "It could be worse, Helen Killer could be featuring my crap...I mean craft"

You should also know that April Winchell AKA Helen Killer is my hero. She is living, blogging proof that sarcasm DOES pay off in the end. Take that Mom!

Now on to the crafting:)

Crafty Goodness

You will need:

• Cookie sheet  You can buy new or repurpose an old one one. It's a good excuse to buy yourself new bakeware
• One can of metal adhering spray paint  Don't be afraid to get colorful, kids love bright colors
• Page of stickers Use whatever characters your kids are into, we chose Sesame Street
• Sticky Magnet Paper You can find this stuff at most dollar stores. Look in photo frame or craft section
• SOS pad For scratching up the surface of the cookie sheet 
  

.

Stickers on magnet sheet

 I started with the magnets, mainly because it rained the day I planned on making this and I wanted to get what I could done. First I took the backing off of the magnet sheet. Handle it carefully because this stuff is super tacky. Next I carefully arranged the stickers to maximize space. Between the glue on the magnet sheet and the glue on the stickers these puppies aren't budging once they're in place so make sure you have them lined up how you want them the first time

Choose simple shapes that are easy to cut out

                                                                                               Carefully cut around each sticker making sure there were no sharp edges. On a side note, if you are wondering where I got the stickers from, it was an activity/coloring book. CeeCee loves to color but stickers are wasted on her so I always tear them out before I give her the book.

Finished Magnets

I also want to point out that you are the best judge of your kids interests and abilities so choose stickers that are going to be engaging to them and also size appropriate for their development level. Obviously if you have THAT kid (you know, the one that has to go to the ER to have the beads removed from their nose on a weekly basis) you may need bigger stickers.








The cookie sheet proved a little more difficult to make. Here is a fairly accurate description of the process:

Step 1

• Wait for a calm, sunny day
• Scrub all the baked on gunk off of cookie sheet with the SOS pad and scratch the heck out of the non stick surface AND nail polish in the process.
• Thoroughly dry cookie sheet (I put mine in the oven on broil for a few minutes just to be sure)
• Take everything outside and get organized, lay down a garbage bag to prevent Watermelon Pink grass incident
• Lightly spray cookie sheet, remembering Dad's words of wisdom that twenty thin coats is better than one gloopy mess
• Realize in horror that paint is not adhering to cookie sheet and is beading up in an alarming manner.
• Allow it to dry and hope that the next coat sticks better, check back in half an hour 

Step 2

• Peel back edges of garbage bag that have blown onto surface of cookie sheet and are now adhering to beaded up paint
• Apply second coat of paint, a little thicker this time to cover up the garbage bag smear marks and paint beads. Use handy nearby solar lights to weigh down the garbage bag.
• Realize in horror that you have gotten overspray onto husbands solar lights. Death by Pinterest #4 - Husband beats you to death with a Watermelon Pink solar light
• Realize that second coat of paint isn't sticking either, open bottle of wine at 10 am.
• Apply sheet of lacy white tissue paper to tacky paint in effort to hide garbage bag smears, paint beads and bits of grass blown over from neighbors yard (thank you SO much for choosing right now to mow, CAN'T U SEE IZ CRAFTING)
• Decide that rather than making it look vintage, tissue paper has made it look worse. Attempt to remove tissue paper only to find that the paint has instantly dried in places and has formed some type of spray paint/tissue paper paper mache.

Step 3

• Use convenient garbage bag to dispose of  cookie sheet, tissue paper and solar lights
• Consume remaining wine.

Voila! You have now created your very own set of  fridge magnets.

Handcrafted fridge magnets FTW

I think Helen Killer would approve.

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There goes my hero

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There aren't many role models out there for young women. I fear that my daughters are going to grow up aspiring to be like...Ke$ha? Suri Cruise will be all grown up by then, maybe she will be a strong role model, you know, except for that whole Scientology thing. Luckily Twilight will have blown over by then so I won't have to worry about them acting as vapid as Bella Swan. The Jane Eyre's and Elizabeth Bennett's of the world have long since been replaced by Selena Gomez and Demi Lovato. Teenage girls don't seem inclined toward self sacrifice and good deeds anymore do they?

Enter Jolene Hayter.

 

I have had the privilege of knowing Jolene for a long time. I have been doing her hair for at least four years and in that time I have seen her grow from a sweet young girl into an articulate, well mannered young woman. She has been involved in many projects over the years, from weaving sleeping mats out of recycled grocery bags and distributing them to the homeless on East Hastings in Vancouver to performing as Cindy Lou Who in a high school production of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. This year I had the honor of seeing her crowned Queen Valvedette the 64th, the highest honor that can be conveyed to a teenage girl in our fair city. Though it all she has remained humble and gracious, never allowing he successes to go to her head.

Queen Valvedette the 64th, Jolene Hayter

I was pretty proud of her the day I saw her for the first time in her role as goodwill ambassador, her crown shining atop her sleek blonde updo and her sunny smile shining down on all the children gathered around her parade float. The little girls in the crowd were so excited to see a real princess in their midst and I was just as overcome. As proud as I was that day I have never been as proud of her as I was today, when she allowed me to help her cut off all those beautiful lengths of hair in support of a cause near and dear to her heart.

Jolene has a brother named Brandon. When he was only twelve years old he was badly burned by a spray paint can that unfortunately made its way into a bonfire. I heard his touching story today, along with that of burn survivor Lynda Fraser, at Hero Day, an event organized by his Jolene in support of the BC Firefighters Burn Fund. The Burn Fund helps the families of burn victims with expenses related to recovery, medical supplies and rehabilitation. It also funds a summer camp where children who are burn survivors can play and have fun with other children who have been in their shoes and are able to relate to them. I heard Brandon talk today about the way other children responded to him when he returned to school with his scars and his protective equipment, and how he felt so outside of "normal" school life. Then I heard him talk about how it felt to be among peers at a burn camp who knew what he had been through and could care less about his scars. It made me truly grateful to be able to help out in any way I could.

Jolene's Family. Her mom Ilona, brother Brandon, and  father Don

The goal of Hero Day was to show that being truly beautiful has nothing to do with the texture of your skin or how pretty your hair is...true beauty comes from within and the courage and spirit that these burn survivors show is a shining example of that beauty. There is a lesson for all of us in there. It is so easy to judge someone based on their appearance but if we take a second to listen to their story we may find ourselves looking at them in a whole new light. Jolene pledged to cut her hair off to a mere inch in order to raise funds and awareness. She thought that maybe by sacrificing her gorgeous hair and taking away some of her external beauty she could inspire others to look past the physical and appreciate the beauty within but her plan may have backfired. She looks even more beautiful now than she did before. I am so glad that there are still girls like her in this world for my daughters to look up to and I am proud to call her my hero.

My Hero

To donate to the burn fund click here:)

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CeeCee's Montessori-ish Bedroom

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“Children are human beings to whom respect is due, superior to us by reason of their innocence and of the greater possibilities of their future.” - Maria Montessori

Those words were written a long time ago by one of the world's most revolutionary children's educators, Dr. Maria Montessori. They still ring true today.

Maria Montessori - 1933

A few of her concepts jumped out at me:

• Allow the child to be independent and learn through exploration, play and practical work (purposeful activity). 
• Create a safe, clean, orderly AND stimulating environment for the child
• Do not try to "teach" the toddler. Instead allow the child to absorb knowledge from the environment around them

This barely scratches the surface of Dr. Montessori's teachings but it's a good place to start. It's not like you have to do EVERY little thing by the book. To be completely honest I plan on avoiding a few of her teaching strategies.


For example, I don't believe that infants and toddlers need to eat from glass bowls and drink from actual glasses (not plastic) in order to teach them Control of Error. I prefer to teach that lesson using spillage, not breakage, as a learning tool. Spilled milk isn't going to result in a trip to the ER for stitches. Besides teaching them to eat is supposed to be messy. That's part of the fun.

Breakfast IS the most important meal of the day mommy:)

Bedtime had always been a challenge. She hated her crib...hated it. I'm pretty sure she looks at it as baby jail. I get it. She spent the first year of her life in bed with Mommy and Daddy. A crib was a regression. We converted it into a toddler bed but still, the stigma was already there. She liked being snuggled to sleep (Who doesn't?) and that just wasn't possible in a toddler bed with a sixty pound weight limit. We had to do something. I had just delivered our youngest daughter and intended to bed-share again and the thought of have four people in one bed was giving me nightmares, counterproductive when you consider bed-sharing is meant to allow you MORE rest. We contemplated putting CeeCee on a mattress directly on the floor but I wanted to research it first.


Enter my old friend, the Internet.


Somewhere along the way I came across the term Montessori Toddler Room. Several images popped up in Google, some more pretentious looking than others. Looking at these rooms I couldn't help getting excited. I would have LOVED a room like this when I was a kid. We slowly started the process of redesigning CeeCee's room using Montessori concepts.

We wanted CeeCee to be independent in her movements and choices, at least in her own room. She sleeps on a twin mattress that sits directly on the floor. She is able to climb into bed, out of bed, read in bed and jump on the bed without any interference or help from me. Her toys are neatly organized and rotated frequently.

CeeCee's Bed

The lower shelves of her bookshelf are filled with age appropriate reading materials. She even has a little chalkboard attached to the wall so she can doodle and draw without having to ask me for help. 

A few articles of clothing are kept on a lower bar in her closet so she can choose her own outfit. Her garbage can has a pedal on the floor to open it and is short enough for her to put garbage in but tall enough to prevent her taking garbage out. On the floor sits a switch that controls the lamp in her room.

The lamp is tall enough to prevent her burning herself on the bulb, the garbage can prevents her from tipping the lamp

Naturally we spent much time childproofing. By chance all of our electrical outlets are situated above our foundation walls (basement suite) so sticking her finger in a light socket isn't a big concern. Her bed is only 8 inches off the ground, not high enough to hurt herself should she roll out in the night. Furniture is anchored and/or untippable. Her door is never closed, instead a baby gate keeps her in, preventing her from roaming the house in the night but allowing us to hear her easily.

Age appropriate books at the bottom, books for when she's older up out of harms way

So far the experiment has proven successful. CeeCee loves playing in her new room and bedtimes are, for the most part, getting easier. The only downsides are that I spent more than I had intended redecorating and that it now look like the Disney Princesses threw up in my daughters room (don't judge, she loves the "pwincesses"). I don't know how Maria Montessori would feel about it, seeing as how we kinda cherry picked the ideas we liked and discarded the ones we didn't. I like to think she would approve, once her eyes adjusted to all the pink. Oh well, CeeCee loves it and that's all that matters.

After all, it's HER world.

More pictures of CeeCee's room...

Toys are neatly organized and rotated often

Books for later and a few knick knacks

Books for now

Hopscotch anyone?

CeeCee's chalkboard. Gotta love the carpet, circa 1972:)

Floor plug for the lamp. It is basically an extension cord and available in any hardware store. Close up on the hideous carpet

Changing station. Foundation walls make a great holder for my cloth wipe setup.

Double rods in closet make it easy to put clothes at her level while keeping delicate clothes out of harms way

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