I cleaned out my toaster the other day. It wasn’t out of boredom – in fact, I had a long list of other things I needed to do. But a rogue scrap of bread had become stuck in the inner metallic grid, which presented a fire hazard. After unplugging the toaster, turning it upside down and unleashing an avalanche of crumbs, I noticed that the outside surface was incredibly grungy. I scrubbed it until it gleamed.
Discovering graphic novels felt a little bit like uncovering the Caramilk secret or finally understanding why my kids refuse to flush the toilet (spoiler alert: because they’re lazy).
From early on, my husband and I had a pretty good idea our youngest son was a lefty. When he started using a spoon, it was in his left hand. When he reached for toys or zoomed cars along the floor, it was with his left hand. When he learned to colour, he was all left. And when we handed him a hockey stick, he immediately held it in his left. When we gave him a ball and glove and he wanted to throw AND catch with his left hand, it confirmed it for us. We quickly returned to the store to buy him a new glove.
It just happened. I didn’t cry. I needed him to know that I had confidence in him and that I was going to be just fine. We can’t let them see us sweat. We don’t want them worrying about us when they need to be focused on their new adventures. Admittedly, I may have held on a little longer in that last hug.
While I truly believe child rearing is one of the most joyful and fulfilling experiences a woman can have, the ugly truth is that it’s often a formula for low self-esteem and a whole lot of self-doubt.
It’s that time, once again, when our little darlings head back to the classroom. There will be no tears shed by this seasoned mama of six kiddos – I love this time of year! It’s an opportunity for a fresh start. I also love getting organized, so I thought I’d share some of my favourite products that are helping me do that this year.
When I tell people the bruises and lacerations covering my daughter’s body are from a golf cart accident their reactions vary. Some say, “kids will be kids, who doesn’t have a golf cart story?” and others present me with raised eyebrows and clumsily, half-heartedly, try to reassure me that I’m not a bad or neglectful parent.
My son was 5 years old the first time he went to any type of camp. He had been in a home daycare setting but had never been to camp before.
Oh, the sweet smell of summer campfires. It’s probably one of my favourite smells. It brings me back to camping weekends, fun at the cottage, roasting marshmallows and hot dogs and just simply kicking back and enjoying those gorgeous nights of summer.
With back to school just around the corner, many of our kids will be asking for increased freedom as they advance a grade; freedom to walk to and from school alone, freedom to bike to the park alone, even freedom to cross the street without holding your hand (cue sobbing).