Hairstylist To The Stars! To A Star. To A Doll. Whatever.

Sometimes I forget that my child is four years old and think she's much older because she's able to do so many things. But then, every once in a while, she does something that is so completely age-appropriate that it catches me off guard and I have to sit back and laugh.

For example, (this is posting #6 934 regarding Rapunzel or Tangled or both) the other day she came up to me and said, "I didn't cut Rapunzel's hair."

I said, "Ok. Uh, did something happen to Rapunzel's hair?" and she, enthusiastic that she is not in trouble, said, "Yes! It's CRAZY Momma! When Rapunzel's hair got cut it didn't turn brown!" 

I said, "Can you show me what you mean?" Knowing full well what she meant, but stalling to figure out whether I was going to have to be mad or dismayed or not upset at all.  I think the reason Motherhood isn't an actual Game is that there are no rules, there are a ton of suggested ways to play and you don't know whether you "won" the game until like, 20 years later when your kids either are or aren't productive citizens of the world. But I digress.

So Kiddo #1 showed me Rapunzel dolly-- with half her hair cut off at the nape.  I said, "Kiddo #1, what happened to her hair?" and she hung her head and said, "I wanted to see if it would turn brown like in the movie."  Oh, Disney, what a clever thing you did with the changing hair thing. Now kids everywhere will be cutting their dollies' hair and will therefore need replacement dolls. Or at least overpriced Barbie-sized wigs.  

At any rate, I figure, if the doll's hair isn't growing back, and it's already cut, and I happen to have LOTS of dark brown hair dye in the house (not for ME of course, since I'm so youthful, but for, uh ... ah crap. It's mine.) why not try to dye Rapunzel's hair brown? 

Off I went to the bathroom (once Kiddo #2 was napping and Kiddo #1 was tucked away colouring her Flynn Rider poster I printed out) and began the process. Feeling much like a gigantic hair stylist, I took off Rapunzel's outfit (Wait? You don't get naked when someone dyes your hair? Then why do you pay so much for it?) and mixed the colours.  I applied the dye to Rapunzel's hair, making sure not to get any on her scalp, shoulders, neck and torso.  I waited.

Kiddo #1 and I played Candyland while Rapunzel read the latest (tiny) versions of OK! Magazine and People. I went back a few times and played with the hair (I don't know why I did that-- I don't know why my stylist does that to my hair, either) and chatted with Rapunzel about what's she's up to and whether she thinks the Royal Marriage will last (Kate and William's, not hers).

And, an hour later (I let it really sit) I rinsed. The unveil was rather anti-climactic, I must say. In fact, now she just looks like she has brown roots she needs to take care of, instead of having brown hair. It's unbelievable. I think her hair must be made of Magic Eraser or something else that takes dye and Sharpie out of things, otherwise why would it have taken NONE of the colour? It's blonde. The dye is dark brown. Trust me: it works on my hair every three weeks. 

Explaining that to a toddler (and really, to me, since it makes no sense here either) was a little trickier. So I just said, "Kiddo #1, I don't understand it! Your dolly must REALLY have magic hair-- we dyed it the same colour as Mommy's, and here she is! Still blonde! Isn't it incredible?"  She giggled and I felt like a real scientist: I had a hypothesis, materials, method and the conclusion, while baffling, occurred. I'd continue to do the trials, but I actually don't care enough to bother. (which is also why I'm not a 'real' scientist)

All I have to say is a big thank Heaven my white, white roots aren't made of whatever makes up Rapunzel's hair.  

Maybe Mother Gothel Had It Right Afterall?

With my daughter's Rapunzel/Tangled obsession came an instant use for a half a skein of yarn left over from a scarf a friend of mine made for me. The scarf, by the way, is beautiful, as is the leftover yarn.  

Not long after we saw Tangled for the first time, Kiddo #1 unraveled the yarn and had me tie it to one of her hairbands. She's been running through the house with it trailing behind her ever since.  But today was the first day she actually thought she should take it outside; it's June, so I should count some blessings since we saw the movie in December.

At any rate, she was so excited to take that piece of string (which is at least 3 Husbands long or about 20 feet) tied to her hairband out for our evening family walk tonight that I could hardly tell her no. Husband and I wrapped up our son-- the alternate to the long piece of string is my 6 meters of wrap that happens to be a light yellow colour and therefore a perfect hair stand-in. She loves to pretend she has wrapped brother up in my wrap the way Rapunzel wrapped up Flynn Rider. I wish I'd bought the light yellow on purpose but it, like so many things, was just luck.

So, after dinner, she put away her Cryerton Critters (I don't know why she calls her Calico Critters "Cryerton," but she does) and off we went.  

I think I laughed the entire walk.

It was so incredible to watch her running, dancing, singing, laughing, skipping and a few more words ending in 'ing' because she felt like Rapunzel.  I brought along the camera and recorded it for posterity; this is something I'll never want to forget. 

As we headed down the driveway and took our first left turn, the problem of having 20 feet of "hair" behind you presented itself; Rapunzel's hair got caught on our Crackerin' Thorns (another word Kiddo #1 uses for thorns on rose bushes-- I think she got it from her 90 year-old great-grandmother who calls them "Pickerin' Thorns") and Kiddo #1 almost lost her hairband. We went back, unhooked the hair from the thorns and decided to go wider around the bush. 

This walk nearly took out Husband a couple of times; he was also walking our dog who was intrigued by the moving string and let's face it, Husband's feet are not what you might call normal sized. It was kinda like that scene in 101 Dalmatians, which isn't the same movie at all, but you get the picture. 

When she came upon one of those giant ant piles that looks like someone spilled used coffee grounds on the pavement, she squatted down and exclaimed, "There must be TEN ants there!"  Yes, 10. There are most definitely ten ants there for sure. ... maybe a few more.  

Then she stomped her gigantic foot down in the middle of the pile, and Husband turned his back to her so he could laugh hysterically without her knowing. Nice. 

I said, "Kiddo #1, why did you do that?" she folded her arms and said, "I'm killing the ants."  Fantastic. Clearly I missed the one thing I was supposed to do as a mother to keep her from being a serial killer. Dang it. 

"Honey, you shouldn't kill the ants. You only get to kill them when they're in our house because they shouldn't be there. But you should leave them alone when they're in the right spot doing the right thing."  Husband was absolutely shaking from silent laughter.  

Kiddo #1, arms folded, eyebrows pushed together, giant strand of red/pink/orange/grey hair trailing behind her said, "Momma! They're trying to get into our house!"  I said, "Kiddo #1, you need to think about the families of the ants. What if you just hurt a mommy or a daddy or a brother or a sister?"  And, Husband, now composed said, "Hey, Kiddo #1, I think there's a bunny over there!"

Distraction: cousin to "Let it Go!" and powerful tool in the Mommy Toolbox.  

I tried to continue teaching my child the morality in killing ants, how you shouldn't hurt anything and how the world is made of energy and you get back what you put out there, but Husband got himself tripped up in the hair again.  He nearly fell on the dog, who leapt out from under his giant feet squealing, which made Kiddo #1 run back, singing "Don't fall Daddy-o" to the tune of B-I-N-G-O.  I started to laugh, grabbed Husband's arm to steady him, took the dog from him while he untangled himself and when everyone was finally free, we continued on our walk.  Distraction is a powerful tool; it works on Mommys, too.

And, as a reward to Husband for keeping our walk fun, I offered to get all the debris out of the string when we got home; I think that's probably the real reason Mother Gothel kept Rapunzel in her tower for 18 years-- 70 feet of hair full of grass clippings, dead ants, crackerin' thorns, and sandy dirt would take days to clean!  Kiddo #1 will have to make do with her yarn-- only a woman that could sing herself youthful has time like that.

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It Ain't Easy Being Young and Hip but I Manage.

Going into a cheap earring store, like Ardene or Claire, where you can also buy cheap sunglasses, trendy hats/scarves/handbags, all at 3 for $10, makes a woman feel old. She feels especially old going into these cheap earring stores when she is looking for replacement nose rings while carrying her infant son in her wrap while her four year old daughter fritters to and fro.  I think it must be like going into a maternity shop when you're 15, only reversed.  Or going into a M.A.C. store and realizing the amazingly put together woman doing your make-up is actually a man that walks in heels better than you ever will. In your life. Ever. 

In all three situations, the people in the store know you're a fraud-- that you should either know better and not need to be there, or if you really do need their services, honey, you need to get your crapola together. 

At any rate, I picked out my nose rings (Kiddo #2 likes to grab my hair on either side of my head and pull my face to his mouth to subtly indicate he's hungry. Most of the time my hair gets caught in my nose ring, which subsequently goes flying) and slunk guiltily away.

I think, though, that this feeling of general Agedness (Age-Ed-Ness-- gotsta pronounce all three syllables) was actually compounded by the morning spent at my daughter's soon-to-be school in September.

Heavy hearted is the realization that I have a child old enough for school.  Oh, sure, in the grand scheme of life, school is wonderful and I'm excited for her to start. I didn't even cry when I brought her in for the orientation. In fact, when we all went for the bus ride together, I instantly realized why I keep my car seat like a capital letter 'L' (only backwards); I spent many, many years riding a bus and those seats are adroit. 

Anyway Kiddo #1 did great at the info session. She had lots of fun with the three adults that could be her teacher, she had fun with the other students and I didn't have a full-blown panic attack at the thought of my being old.

It wasn't until I sashayed my way into the cheap earring store that I came face-to-face with the fact that I'm old enough to have a child in school so why am I getting nose rings?  The best part is that I didn't know I was that ... insecure about my age.  I mean, I usually don't run around blasting my age to begin with, but mostly that is because I have friends that range in age from young to young-at-heart, so I don't really care about what the number says on my birth certificate.  

But this unease in the cheap earring store has me really shaking. Maybe I AM freaking out about getting old? And if being ...

[We interrupt this admission of age with a behind-the-scenes look at the writing of this blog.  The writer just spent the last 15 minutes trying to type her actual age in the next spot in the blog. 

She would write the numbers, erase them, make them younger, shave off a year or two, make her age much older so as to trick readers into thinking she looks very young for her advanced age, writing her emotional maturity age (which was very young, really, and not very complimentary either), and then left to get a drink.  She decided, upon realizing the baby was awake, not to make the drink alcoholic and got some milk whilst nursing Kiddo #2.  This time, while sweet, was also spent deliberating how she might finish that sentence.  

"If age doesn't matter to me," she thought to herself while her son's new teeth made her breast feel like the windshield of a car being scraped of ice in the Winter, "then I should just put my age down and be done with it. I'm 53. There's a lot of stuff that makes up being 43. I've done lots of things, or at least several things, been lots of places, or at least a few places, and I've learned probably a handful of things in my 23 years. I should be proud of being 33 or at least not worried."  She then switched Kiddo #2 to the other side and checked her email on her third, perhaps favourite child, her iPhone. She chuckled and thought she is lucky no one can read her mind about that.]

Oh iPhone. Thank you for listening to me every time I speak, for calling me gently with soothing music when you need me (as opposed to shrieks of terror, for example), and for making me look trendy and cool (although, with the recent baby boom in Hollywood, my kids do make me look trendy and cool, too). 

Nose ring stays. Next time I need to get more, I'll visit a friend who is menopausal first, instead of taking my child/ren to school. That way I can say things like, "Well, Penelope, I'm off to buy tampons, birth control and nose rings," and it will all be filed away under Youth.  Ahh. Sweet youth. 

Did You Crap Your Pants or Are You Just Trying to Dougie?

"Momma, I don't think I can go to bed tonight. That movie was too scary and I'm gonna have bad dreams."  

Really? Huh. Ok.

"Well, honey, let's think about your favourite part of the movie. What was your favourite part?"

"When Odette married the Prince."

"Oh yes. That was lovely. I loved her hair. So pretty!"  

We chatted for a few minutes about the good parts of The Swan Princess (which, by the way, there weren't very many-- it's crap-tacular AND old, so the production values aren't great on top of the pooh-dialogue and really, really awful songs.)  But, even as I was watching it, I thought there were at least a few parts of this movie that were so crappily animated that they were much scarier than they actually intended to be.  And, that is just another reason we watch all movies together the first time.  Santa Paws was a painful lesson learned, let me tell you.

So, we talked about the good parts of the movie and I kissed her goodnight. I turned off the light and heard a wee squeal from her pillow.  "You ok?"

"Momma! That didn't work. I just shut my eyes and the pictures are there."  Frick. 

"Ok. Well, what do you think will work?"  When we watched Night At The Museum the first time, she had nightmares about T-Rex coming to life.  So we talked about how to keep T-Rex from chasing her-- to throw a big bone or ball in her dream so the dinosaur will chase that instead. We talk through how to solve nightmare problems before she goes back to sleep and we find she doesn't have problems with that nightmare again. It's kinda cool actually. Must be her logical father's influence.

"I don't know. Maybe if we read a nice book it will take the bad pictures out of my brain?"  Ok. Fair enough.

She picked up three teeny tiny board books about love and butterflies and princesses and we read them twice.  I gave her another kiss and told her I love her and went into my room to begin this little blog. I don't think I'd even opened the frickin' laptop and there she was in my doorway, grinning and trying to look forlorn at the same time.  Say what?

Holy Schnikes! This kid is playing me!

I looked up from the computer screen and she ambled over like she hurt her knee or was possibly practicing her "Dougie" dance moves.  Large sigh.  Head down. Real, princessy boo-hoo sobs were muffled by her hair. I'm impressed.

"Momma. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do.  I fell asleep and had a terrible nightmare. Terrible.  I think (sigh). I have (looks into the middle distance wistfully). To sleep in your bed (head drops down onto my bed). Tonight (face is buried in blankets now). Boooo hooo hoooo oooo hoo."

If my eyebrows get any higher on my forehead, I will have to have them surgically lowered.  And then I actually can't help myself. I laugh. Credibility gone again. But, she, giggling, knows she's not really gonna win this one either.  But, it was a valiant effort rewarded with my laughter. 

So, we got her back to bed and she slept through the night with no actual nightmares.  We had a success in the parenting department, but with it came dialogue wondering whether we had exposed her to something she isn't ready for.  I mean, part of me says that there are scary things in the world but she shouldn't grow up thinking that life is all sugar plums and glittery butterflies.  BUT, on the other hand, I feel like there's enough life that isn't great, so why make her have to process it and deal with it before she's ready?  Before I am?

I don't know what the right answer is, but for now, OUR right answer is to be there and watch everything she watches, at least the first time she sees it.  That way, if there is questionable material on the screen, we can make the call to turn it off and cut our losses (which is what I initially did with Santa Paws, and then I started it up again after we'd talked about some of the content. And it got worse and worse and worse). 

We'll also will pause a video so that we can discuss an issue or just take a break from something that might be fine, but a little much for her depending on the day.  And we don't do anything crazy, we just say stuff like, "Wow! That was quite a scene. What did you think of it?" and "Do you think s/he is a good person or a bad person? Why?"  But it gives her a chance to process what's going on, not just emotionally react to it. 

But this all leads to one of the greatest things in my Mommy Toolbox: the little sign hanging in the lid that says, Let It Go. I need to remember what scares a little kid tonight will be forgotten in the morning, UNLESS I keep  bringing it up and renewing the scare.  So, I took a deep breath and let it go. And right on schedule, so has she. 

(Uh, for the record, I invite you to test out either Santa Paws or Swan Princess-- both are at the local library which is where we 'rent' our films, but do the former without children and the latter with a glass of something relaxing. I think could be so-crappy-it's-funny if you're a little off kilter.)

It's Kinda The Biggest Day Of My Life

There are some people that just need to have a job to keep them from being ridiculous.  I am clearly one of those people. Although, I truly feel if I haven't hot-glued felt to something, it's not a proper party.

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When planning a child’s birthday party, it might be smart to ask that child what her favourite movie or TV show is right now.  Then you might think, hey, what is your favourite scene in the movie, because then you could maybe decorate or focus the activities of the party from that one scene.

I’m here to tell you that if you do things that way, you are making a lot more work for yourself.  Case in point: I asked my daughter what her favourite movie is.  I knew she’d say Tangled, but I asked her just in case.  Then I asked her what her favourite scene from the movie is. She said, “The end, with the floating lanterns when the lost princess finds her way home to her family.”

Fan-frickin-tastic. 

I knew I could get the invitations off Etsy.com. Vendors there make cute Tangled invitations (and Thank You notes) out of a digital file that they email you.  It's a fraction of the cost of ones from any store because you can take them to a photo lab and print as many as you need for pennies.  And, they look fantastic and took all of a few seconds to create.

But lanterns? Floating lanterns? Where would I even get those? And where would we even light them? And why the heck did I ask her what her favourite part is?

So, in the meantime, I set to work trying to find Tangled anything for party decorations.  Did you know, as of June 1^st , 2011, there is NOTHING you can buy in Canada with Disney’s Tangled themes on it, unless you mean roughly 5 toys (4 of which are Rapunzel dolls with slightly different dresses/hair)? No banners. No table cloths. No plates, cups, napkins. Rien.

Oh, but you can find all these things in America, Land Of Amazing Shopping. I know why everything on American TV looks so great. It's because you can go to any old store and find amazing decorations and pay next-to-nothing for them comparatively.  It's almost criminal.

So I filled up a shopping cart with a bunch of stuff, got through to the last page of the checkout process only to find out that no one ships to Canada. There must be some sort of Tangled no-fly-zone here, which didn’t help me in the least.

A friend of mine suggested having the stuff shipped to the ferry. I had no idea that ferries could receive shipments but I was eager to get my daughter’s birthday extravaganza started, so off I clicked.  Oh momma. What a dangerous thing it is to have things shipped to the ferry. It’s $5 a package (which if you score free shipping to the boat, is still cheaper than the $20 shipping to Canada) and you don’t even have to cross the border to get it. How frickin’ sweet is that?

Anyway, I got my stuff and set to work on the lantern issue. I looked up paper lanterns and for a brief moment I thought we could all light real lanterns and send them off into the air like the 'real' Rapunzel did. And then I remembered that was INSANE and ordered the hanging ones. They came out of Arizona, which was cool (I thought I'd be getting them direct from China, but I should've guessed that I'd find what I needed in AMERICA, LAND OF AMAZING SHOPPING.)

Once I’d ordered those, I headed to the local fabric store and got two shades of purple and one yellow of a discount broadcloth. I made my own pennant banners with the sun emblem on them (which, btw, is not as easy as folding fabric in two and cutting—it has 7 rays that curve, which makes it necessary to cut each sun out by hand. Unless you have a cricut machine or something else lovely and helpful like that.).

And don’t even start with how I attached it. It was Mod Podge and then I had to paint them yellow over top of the glued-down suns with acrylic paint because the glue showed through and looked awful.

I then started thinking about games. Pin the nose on Flynn Rider was a no-brainer, since the running gag from the film is that “They just can’t get [his] nose right,” on the various Wanted posters.  I realized that I’d have to draw him, laminate him and then draw some noses for the make-shift Wanted poster.  So I did, and it turned out pretty well, and I brought out a pack of sticky notes onto which I drew noses to eleviate the need for double sided tape during the game.  As the kids got their blindfold on, I drew their requested nose on the sticky note. It was kinda cute and fun, actually.

I also got the “life sized” cardboard cutout of Rapunzel. My intention was to have the kids all have their picture taken together with her, but I was too busy keeping kids happy and entertained to remember to do that. Oh well. I looks great in the playroom. 

As kids arrived, they were to draw their favourite food or animal on the coffee table we’d covered with Kraft paper.  I’d ask a kid’s name, s/he’d point to what s/he’d drawn and we’d all discuss how nice it was.  It got the shy kids feeling comfortable because most kids liked the same foods or animals (there were lots of bunnies, strawberries and giraffes drawn on the paper).

We played lots of games inside and out—What Time is It Mother Gothel/Mr. Wolf; Thug, Thug, Stabbington Brother (duck, duck, goose) and I even made these little medallions out of the ends of cans that I took off using my “no sharp edges” can opener.  I glued a picture of Pascal on one side and different coloured felt on the other and hid them in the playroom where the kids then had to find them.  The games were free, the Pascal thing cost all of $.83 in photo development at Walmart and about at much in felt and glue.  

Oh, and I took the actual cans, from the Pascal medallions activity, and covered them with felt to make Rapunzel’s tower/the cupcake tower which turned out really a lot cuter than I thought it might. How much fun is it to find props for a party in your recycling bin? A LOT!

We also made Fruit Loop bracelets or necklaces, which was a huge hit. I was actually shocked that all the kids wanted to string Fruit Loops on a bit of purple ribbon, although maybe I underestimated the power of little sugared 'o's?  Anyway, it was super cute and great for the fine motor skills they’re learning to use at this age.

What I learned with this hectic, hectic birthday party is that a)23 kids is just a few too many to invite if everyone comes, b) all those kids (and parents) can really heat up a house quickly, no matter how many fans you have going and how low your AC is set, and c) next party, Husband will be on “random kid” patrol so that when kids finish an activity early, or they don’t want to play one of the games or whatever, they won’t just walk out the front door and into traffic. Not that that happened, but afterwards I got a little worried that it could have.   

It was great that I had my older niece taking pictures of the activities of the day, and it was also great to have written out a list of possible games for us to play so that I could pick and choose based on kid participation. Reading a list instead of trying to remember on the spot worked wonderfully for me—because I no longer have any sort of short-term memory. I hear it has something to do with my having two kids.  At least I think I don’t. I can’t remember.

The favours were bottle cap necklaces with Tangled images on them (a local vendor made them up for me  https://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=group_48617871883), a ring pop (princesses and thieves need bling) and a Rice Krispie treat that I’d cut out with cookie cutters and then iced (because Rice Krispie treats aren’t sugary enough to begin with) and then put on a skewer so they looked fun and decorative, too.  All in all, each ‘favour’ cost about $3.00 per kid, which is probably what you end up spending on random stuff from the Dollarstore when you have to make 20 grab bags.

The party happened.  It was glorious, Kiddo #1 thought it was magical.  In the week that followed the party, I was mildly disabled the next day (from fatigue) and delerious (from the Christmas-esque mess in the house). We got the house in working condition within three days.  Thank heaven I don't have a paying job, or it'd be months later and we'd still be getting rid of cupcake debris, I'm sure.

We've got most of the Thank You notes done and sent; it's important to me that my kids learn to thank people for their generosity. Plus it is a good reason to practice letter writing. As in, how to write letters of the alphabet, not full-fledged letters.

But you might be asking yourself, “Holy schnikes, how much did she spend on this party?” and to that I reply with another question: Do you have any idea how much it costs to take 20 kids bowling, or swimming or to the gymnastics place? I assure you, the entire party didn’t cost what THAT would cost, which is why I felt a little freer to decorate.

I figure after decorating, feeding, and organizing this party, it still came out cheaper to have it in my house.  Well, cheaper with money anyway.  It took a lot of my time to make the pennants, install the lanterns, make the Flynn poster, clean, make food for, and lead the activities.  Oh heck. When I write it that way, I surely was suckered. But I’m ok with that because I had so dang much fun making it happen. 

The lanterns and pennants are still up, mostly because they’re super cute and festive, and it’s summer so who gives a hoot?  In fact, it’s inspiring me to have another shindig this summer. Perhaps to celebrate the MBA designation on Husband’s business card now, or the completion of my Masters in Education.  Hmm. A Tangled Masters party?  Sounds fun.  Oh, and when I bought the paper lanterns I made sure to have one that actually does float shipped here. We’ll light it on her actual birthday (the party was a week early) as a special end to being 3.

What do you mean, “This was for a 4^th birthday??? What are you gonna do for 5?” That's a good question.  And now I have less than a year to plan it! 

Outta my way, I have to get some more glue sticks and felt!

There's Something About Maybe

“Momma, can I get ice cream with all the pretty colours in it?” asked Kiddo #1, in her deliciously cute Gymboree dress that I got at the local consignment shop for next-to-nothing, and pink hat I didn’t get used, but love the heck out of in a full-price sort of way.  I don’t suppose you expect I’ll say no, but let me explain why.

I woke up this morning at midnight, 2am and 4:30 with Kiddo #2.  This is rare, so it really messes with me when he decides to be nocturnal for an evening.  But worse was that the alarm was set for 5:30 this morning because Husband had to be in London for a minor procedure by 8am. 

Somehow, possibly with magic, we all were out of the house at 6:25, complete with back pack of a million toys and giant bag of munchables. We stopped for coffee and hopped on the highway for our hour and a half trip to the hospital. 

Kiddo #2 was giggling the entire way while Kiddo #1 played peek-a-boo and other cute games with him.  When Kiddo #1 tired of entertaining her brother, she plugged in my iPod and turned on Tangled. I think, if something ever happened to our copies of Tangled, I could possibly retell the story, with voices and songs and sound effects. But I don’t suppose that’s a real feat once you’ve had kids. I think my mom could tell Alice In Wonderland, or Annie in the same fashion.  Just sayin’.

We arrived at the hospital like merchants on the Silk Road and lugged everyone up, down, over, under, around and through the maze until we could check Husband in. Then, for the next 5 hours, Wife and Kids hunkered down for the sandstorm that is waiting for someone to come out of the recovery room.

We met a wonderful woman from Iran who was waiting for her sister to come out of breast cancer surgery. She was really there for the long haul, and she carried none of our supplies with her, not even a book. We were there for half a day and brought a grocery bag full of baby cookies, pre-schooler cookies, momma crackers, cheeses, yogurt and fruit, spoons, bananas and apples, water bottles, three books in English, three in French, a magna doodle, two colouring books, pencil crayons (coloured pencils), and crayons. Oh, and my iPod but that was already mentioned. This was in the rolling Hello Kitty backpack of Kiddo #1.  I was pushing Kiddo #2 in an umbrella stroller – which was not the best choice because when I took him out of it, it fell backwards from the weight of my purse on the handles but I’d forgotten to put the gigantic stroller in the back of my car at 6 am, so we had to deal.

I traded a juice box to Naveen (the Iranian lady) so she would watch Kiddo #2  while I went to the bathroom with Kiddo #1. She traded me some stories of her grown-up children for stories of my no-where-near-grown-up kids. It was quite an equitable relationship. We pretended to be deep in conversation when Crazy Guy came and stood directly between our seats, begging us (with his crazy eyes) to ask him why he was at the hospital in the first place. In fact, she even pretended she was my Auntie when Crazy Guy started asking me random things about my kids. It’s always nice to have perceived-familial-backup when Crazy Guy comes a knockin’.

At any rate, after we’d picked up Pirate Daddy (I bedazzled a patch for him to wear over his hospital issued one) and started home, Daddy asked how the children had been. I said, proudly, that both Kiddo #1 and #2 had been fantastic and that because of that, we were going to have a surprise dessert tonight after dinner.

See, that’s how I prefer to roll with bribes. It’s usually a surprise that you earn just by being good without expecting anything. Yes, I know that kids then expect that if they’re good they will be rewarded, but because I don’t do it every time, and in fact, I really don’t do it very often, the Will goes to May, and May is a mighty powerful instance of time.

The saying is April Showers bring May Flowers. Well, in our house, Good Behaviour May bring Surprises. 

So, when Kiddo #1 looked at me, still smiley even though she had every right to be cranky and tired, still clean despite it being the end of the day and polite even though she knew she was getting the treat, I had to ask the poor girl behind the counter for the rainbow ice cream. She gave me a look like, “Oh please don’t really make me get slivers of all the colours and put them into this tiny paper bowl.” But my super sappy, super proud mother look euchred hers and she set to work while her co-workers chuckled their condolences. 

Sequels, Prequels and Hanitizer

Kiddo #2 has been teething for about a week now. Rather, he has his two bottom middle teeth and got them at 4 1/2 months, so now that he's 8 months he's decided to try and get ALL the rest of his missing teeth at the same time.  It's awesome. The little bulbous gums leave a trail of saliva as slippery as the slime left by Jabba The Hut. Truly, I just have to follow the wet carpet to find out where my little crawler has gone.  

So, when he awoke at midnight and wouldn't latch, I had a feeling something wasn't right.  I got out a bottle. No dice. What? No boobs, no bottle? I looked him over and there was a wee red rashy looking thing on his face and groin. Great, he's been sick on top of teething and so he's got that viral rash that kids sometimes get afterwards.

I gave him some relief, snuggled him a bit, and put him back to bed (much to his disliking).  When Husband went in to get him this morning, Kiddo #2 was crabby and again didn't want to eat. 

Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Willis?  I mean, we nicknamed this kiddo Dozer because a) he's a good sleeper and b) he'll bulldoze through anything, his favourites being food, blocks and chesterfields.  When my little hollow-legged moving machine doesn't want to eat, something is seriously wrong.

So I took him into the Dr, figuring it's probably an earache from teething (Kiddo#1 got them all the time when she was bustin' out teeth).  And when I got there, the rash that Husband could "barely see" that morning, had escalated to ketchup red and all over his trunk, head and well, everywhere.  

Roseola. Ok. Sure. I think Kiddo #1 had that once. Oh schnikeys. Kiddo #1's birthday party is in three days. Are you frickin' kidding me?  Ok. So turns out, Roseola is not contageous, and isn't a big deal. 

But I did have a mini heart-attack thinking of the 2 week old infant we'd seen *but not touched* the day prior, and the scores of little children that would be frolicking at our abode in a matter of hours. Well, like, 72 hours, but who's counting?  When I questioned the Dr she said there was absolutely nothing to worry about, no one would catch this and it would likely be completely gone by the time the party occurs.

Thing is, when I had Kiddo #1, I was totally blasé about her getting sick. I really thought to myself, "Whatever she incubates makes her stronger, so bring it on." And now, with Kiddo #2, I'm so much more cautious. Not that I've turned into compulsive hand-washing/hanitizer (Kiddo #1's word, a combo of hand and sanitizer, which I find rather clever) using/call-me-if-your-kid-sneezed-two-weeks-ago-and-we-have-a-play-date lady.  And not that there's anything wrong with being that lady, it's just not who I am.  

I find it interesting, though, that like a lot of people I know, whatever I did with Kiddo #1, despite being successful for the most part, I'm not doing with Kiddo #2. 

I followed the Babywise sleep method with Kiddo #1. She slept in her crib from the get go, and was sleeping through the night at 4 weeks. Please still be my friend. I'm not bragging, just comparing. 

And with Kiddo #2, I re-read the book, remembered the bits I used and didn't use, and figured I'd just do the same thing. Only, Kiddo #2 wasn't having any of it. He wanted to snuggle. Kiddo #1 only snuggled when she was sick. He wanted to be touching some part of my body at all times; I don't know why I wrote that in past tense, since it's still going on today and he's almost 9 months old. Anyway, Kiddo #1 was happy to do her own thing, and so is Kiddo #2, but everyone must be visible at all times or he panics. So different. 

He slept in his own bed, but if I put him down without feeding him one last time, all Hell will break loose. I could put him to bed if he was already asleep, or wide awake, it didn't matter, but holy crapola, if he wasn't full he would scream like a stuck pig forever until we figured it out and fed him. (if you don't know the Babywise methodology, feeding before sleep is a gigantic no-no)

He was sleeping through the night at 8 weeks (he had Whooping Cough in there, so I figure if he hadn't been sick he would've been on the same schedule as Kiddo #1).  Please still be my friend. I'm not bragging, just comparing.

So why wouldn't I have just done the same thing I did with Kiddo #1 if it worked? Why change things up? I've always wondered why sequels in movies do crazy stuff for the second movie and then go back to the original (best) way with the third in the series. 

Star Wars, I'm talkin' to you. You had us all roped in with the first/fourth one, then you added Ewoks but also a bunch of super scary stuff like a sand thing with spiral teeth and the story wasn't as good, and then you returned to your senses for the third/sixth one. Indiana Jones is the same-- First one, great, Second one: scary as hell, Third one: amazingly best. And it's not just Lucasfilms, either. The Matrix trilogy, Lord of the Rings trilogy (holy frick that second one is terrifying), Shrek was like that until they added the fourth film, so I guess I can't use it. But you see my point. 

All it makes me think, as a parent, is that the first kid is the one that makes you have a second kid, with which you deviate from your methodology and possibly have the scariest one, and then you have a third to redeem yourself and go back to what works. Shite. That's a pretty bleak view of child rearing, isn't it? 

But instead of saying that, I would like to put out there, that a sequel, if planned and written well, can really be an outstanding film that can be watched and appreciated for its own merits. I'm back to Lord of the Rings here, and also thinking Harry Potter. I'd also throw Spiderman's sequel into that mix-- although darker and different, a great film by itself. Oh! And The Incredible Hulk sequel. Amazing Edward Norton. Need I say more?

Frankly, I think the deal is that we've seen the first film, liked it a lot-- enough so to warrant a second trip to the theatre to see another film about the same people in a different, yet zany adventure (more or less). But we shouldn't compare the two films against each other. We should look at them as separate entities that happen to have characters that are familiar, but different.

Same with kids, I guess. Same characters are involved, but they're off on another adventure, and it might be very different than the one we went on with Kiddo #1, but, well shouldn't it? I mean, the best part of parenthood is the completely random acts of children. If all our kids were the same as the last one, there would be nothing to keep us awake during the day.

I need to see Kiddo #2 looking like a professional Baseball player with peat moss running down his lip and a wad of it resembling chewing tobacco in his cheek, to keep me from openly sobbing when Kiddo #1 says, "I don't think I need [my lovie] Pinkie anymore at night."   

I need to Kiddo #1 to say, "Are you gonna get those books, Mama?" when she trips and falls because she's growing and I've threatened that I'm going to put big books on her head so she'll stay little forever.  Hearing that, makes me smirk, and regain composure while Kiddo #2 is screaming his fool head off for no apparent reason. 


Two independent films that happen to have the same characters. I like that idea.  

This might even make me less critical of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi. Sure, Luke loses his hand and Han Solo is frozen in carbonite.  Don't forget that Princess Leia is mostly naked (a big plus for Husband) and those Ewoks are too dang cute for words.