thoughts from the sofa

The boys and I have logged a lot of hours huddled together on the family room sofa, recently. As I sit sandwiched between two sick toddlers watching a Little Bear episode for the 100th time, I suddenly feel a twinge of guilt that I've left chores half done or not started. I resist the urge to get up knowing that it would initiate an outcry from the little bodies quietly resting on my shoulders. My mind wanders off to the to-do list that I started in January. The uncrossed items are ingrained in my head.

- Put away xmas decorations

Most of the decorations are piled up either on top of the dining room table or near or on top of the treadmill. We now fondly refer to treadmill as the 'christmas tree stand'. Previously, it was known as the 'dust collector'.

- Assemble storage units

I bought two storage units last summer in an attempt to organize our cluttered garage and to keep hazardous items locked up from Little Dude's inquisitive little fingers. Summer turned to fall, fall to winter and now it is spring and the boxes remain unopened, probably sitting under a pile of things that need to be put away in the storage units.

- Call Ane

Ane and I knew each other from when life was simple and our biggest dilemma was which club to hit next. We've kept in touch over the years. Today, we each have 2 toddlers and live in the burbs about 1 1/2 hours' drive away from each other. We don't talk on the phone much and see each other even less. When we do talk on the phone, our conversations are never laboured or weird. We laugh and catch-up. It's as if very little time has elapsed in between phone calls. I love Ane and always vow to call her more often after hanging up.

It's a bit like sex with the Good Man. Don't groan. You know what I'm talking about if you have a child who doesn't sleep at night. Sex is the last thing you want to think about knowing that you only have a few hours before your kid cries for you again. But when 'it' finally happens, it feels awesome and you wonder why you don't make a point of doing it more often.

I feel slightly awkward thinking about sex while Little Dude and Littler Dude are snuggled up beside me. I tune back in to our 100th viewing of the Little Bear episode and consider adding one more item on my list of to-do's:

- Sex with GM

a lesson in perserverance

After dinner, Little Dude suggests "Let's go downstairs."

Littler Dude brightens for a moment, loosens his grip around my neck slightly and chimes, "Downstairs. Downstairs."

I take this as a sign that the boys may be finally getting their groove back. I head downstairs with Littler Dude still securely fastened to my torso and wait for his older bro at the bottom. Little Dude looks a little groggy ... almost drunk as he maneuvers down the stairs. I remind him to be careful. I think to myself, What could I do if he did fall? Drop Littler Dude and ...

His last 'big fall' scared the crap out of me. I take a deep breath and don't let my paranoia overcome me but I ready myself just the same.

Little Dude is talking as he nears the bottom. His nose is running. He asks for a tissue. He's on the 3rd last step and I wipe his nose with my free hand. I turn to go down the hall. He misjudges the next step and falters a little, sliding down in slow motion.

He's fine. His bum is on the 2nd last step but one hand is outstretched, still firmly gripping the banister railing. He's whimpering. He doesn't know what to do next. I drop the tissue and offer my hand to his outstretched one. He trusts me. He let's go of the railing. Then, he gets up, climbs a couple of steps to the point where he slid, turns and goes back down. Success!

We've seen this 'get back on that horse' gesture before. It's wonderful but where did he learn it?

As I'm sitting watching Little Dude play, it finally hits me.

After Littler Dude was born, we taught Little Dude how to navigate the 3 steps leading down to the garage. It didn't have a railing and had only one wall for Little Dude to use for balance. A few weeks after the first lesson, he was expertly climbing down these steps on his own. But one day, he slid down. The Good Man and I didn't swoon. We made light of his fall, brushed him off and reminded him how important it was to have one hand on the wall. The Good Man put him back at the top of the steps and Little Dude made his way down without incident. High-fives were given and off we went.

It amazes me that I had forgotten about this day. It amazes me even more that Little Dude didn't forget but, in fact, had soaked up this little lesson on perseverance. I just hope that it seeps into other aspects of his life ... beyond stairways.

in praise of parents raising kids solo

The boys have been so unbelievably needy the last few days. If this keeps up I'm going to have to grow a kangaroo pouch just to get stuff done.

I don't blame the boys. They've been as so horribly sick. Little noses have been running. Ear drums oozing. Tummies aching. Vomit flying. Poop exploding. Fever lingering. It's been truly awful for them. They wrap their little bodies around me tightly as if doing this will release magical powers that will make their aches and pains go away. I suppose it's comforting for them to have mommy so close. It's comforting for me, too.

It's times like these that I'm reminded how lucky I am to have the Good Man, who does more than his fair share of raising and caring for the boys and deals with a tired, cranky wife so beautifully. I really don't know how single parents do it alone or people like Maternal Tales whose husband went out of town for 53 days straight.

How do you take two clingy toddlers to the doctor's office? I'm certain it's been done before but I can't imagine how these single parents manage it without going crazy. Life is frantic enough with toddlers on a good day.

I'm told by one Facebook friend, a mom of 2 teenagers, that parents' lives are never NOT busy. It just becomes a different kind of busy when kids get older. Oh, my dear Hope has just been slayed.

So my Good Man, go take your vitamins, take up running again, stop drinking galons of Coke, eat more healthily because ... I don't ever want to experience this or a different kind of busy without you by my side. I don't think I'm that strong.

haiku horror

I wrote my first haiku since grade school today:

White vomit explodes
From little mouth & nostrils.
OMFG!

Squirm in your chair cheesy, yes. I'm trying to find humour in what has been a very long and exhausting day with my boys: Cling-on One and Cling-on Two. Both have some kind of weird stomach flu virus or food poisoning or strep throat or meningitis. Sigh. Dr Google wasn't much help.

All is quiet now. Get better soon my poor little lambs.

warning sign

While backbacking through South East Asia in my early 20s, a road sign caught my eye on entering Malaysia from the Thai border. It was clearly meant for foreigners. I don't recall if there was something written on the sign but it wouldn't have mattered to me since I did not understand the language. But the 3 separate but connected images on this sign remain vivid in my mind.

At the top was an large outline of a marijuana leaf. Directly below it was a human figure falling backwards with arms flailing and legs in mid air as if suddenly struck hard in the chest and stomach. To the right was a machine gun with a flash of light at the tip of its barrel pointing at the falling figure. The message on this warning sign is unmistakable: Get caught with weed and you die.

I wish some of my children's toys came with a warning label like this one. Not as nightmare-inducing, perhaps, but I'd really love to see a warning label with a clear-cut cause and effect that my 3 and 1 1/2-year-old will understand because they just do NOT get that some toys are not meant to be played with a certain way.

Take Little Dude's giant construction truck and detachable trailer, for example. It's amazingly life-like, incredibly well built and a ton of fun to play with. I can see why both my boys love this gift from grandma and grandpa so much. But, aside from the usual "choking hazard: not recommended for children under 3" warning, the instructions also say it should never be ridden.

But, why not ride the truck? Because as beautifully-engineered this truck is, it will break under pressure from a little toddler riding it. I'm not concerned so much about the thing breaking. What worries me most is that it will break when I'm not looking and crack into shiv-like pieces that Littler Dude could then use to either impale himself or Little Dude ... not an unlikely scenario given that Littler Dude is going through an aggressive phase.

I need a graphic warning sign for my kids because no amount of gentle reminders, firm demands or angry threats from me will make them stop using this truck as a ride-on toy near the step leading into the familyroom ... a room cluttered with toys that could spear unsuspecting eyeballs and toy box corners that could damage falling heads.

Telling my kids not to use the truck and trailer as a ride-on toy is like telling them to stop eating things off the floor. See food. Must eat it. See big truck. Must ride it. That's how their minds work. An image, or even a video, sending a message that says, "ride this and bad things will happen" might be the break through I'm looking for.

My boys love riding this truck and trailer so much that they've even taken a break from their usual toy-squabbling and have teamed together to ride them in tandem.

So what is a poor hyper-paranoid mom to do but throw up her hands, surrender to the moment and snap a photograph ...

... or two ...
... and hope for the best.