Dear Mommy...

Dear Mommy...

I've been reading some of your posts, and I have some things to say to you.

First of all, I take offense to the titles "demon child," "spawn of Satan," "shithead," and some others you have called me.  I am a princess, and if you don't mind, I would like to be referred to as such from now on.

Second of all, I read your entry about "witching hour."  I think we need to tell the truth about it.  It's not witching hour, it's "starve your oldest daughter until she weighs almost nothing hour."  I am not screaming and crying because it's fun.  It's because I'm hungry.  Starving!  If you would have supper ready at a reasonable time, this wouldn't happen.  Also, if you could keep that baby sister of mine quiet, that would help.  When you can't hear me screaming, I feel the need to scream louder!

Next... I've heard you talking about my "attitude."  I would like to clarify:  it is not attitude, it is my way of dealing with stupid people.  Mainly you.  If you weren't so difficult to deal with, I wouldn't have such a huge attitude.  Just give me what I want, when I want it.  It's that simple, mooooom! *eye roll*

Next.  This time-out thing... I'm not impressed.  You think it's this big punishment, but really, it's just two minutes of relaxation for me.  Why do you think I've started asking for time-outs lately?  It's better than hearing you nag all the time! Nag, nag, nag... time-out please!

And another thing, these "games" that we play... I know they're really learning tools.  I wasn't born yesterday, you know! "Oooh, Gracie, let's play your shapes game."  It's not a game mom, you hold up a card, I tell you what it is.  I'm learning.  So let's just call it that, okay?

Last one... I've seen you write about how we eat healthy, and I'm on to you, lady!  You can't mash bananas and peanut butter together, bake it in the oven, and call it a cookie.  That's no cookie, mom!  Also, snow peas don't count as a real snack.  I want sugar.  And chocolate!!

That is all for now, moooom! *eye roll*  But I'm watching you!

Sincerely,

Princess Gracie 

xox

PS - I don't like you picking on Daddy about sleeping in.  Out of the two of you, he's definitely my favourite, so cut it out.

If parenting was a competition... I would totally win.

You know something I have noticed since the first day that Gracie was born?  The fact that every time Danny does any sort of normal parent thing (i.e., wipe a bum, pick a booger, put in a ponytail) and someone outside of our immediate family is around, that person will always say "awwww, he's such a good dad!"  

If we walk through the mall, all four of us, and Danny is either (a) holding Gracie's hand, or (b) holding Ella, someone will always make a comment - "awwww, look at him with his little girls.  He's such a good dad."  Ummm, hello?  Mom is there too!

When I go to pick up Gracie from daycare, our babysitter always says to me, "you've got some good husband there Samantha, he's so good with the girls.  What a good dad."   I asked Danny if she's ever said the same thing about me when he picks up Gracie... NOPE!!

Soooo... I would just like to take a moment and clarify something for everybody out there.  Parenting isn't a competition!!  But if it were, I would totally win.

I think dads get a sort of handicap when it comes to the parenting game.  Like golf... they automatically start off with more points (or less??  I don't really know golf...) because they're considered to be at a disadvantage.  Moms are just expected to do all the normal parenting things cause they're, well, moms.  Well guess what people? It isn't the 1900s anymore.  Lots of dads have stepped up and are totally involved in the day-to-day caring of a child (like Danny is).  So let's get rid of that handicap and at least start us off on even ground!  But to be clear again... even with Danny's handicap, I still totally win.

Let's compare our parenting, shall we... and you can decide for yourself (although it will be abundantly clear) who the real winner is!

1)  I get up with the girls.  Every. Single. Day.  This should be all we need to decide the winner, because it is the crappiest part of parenting!  Also, please refer to my post here to read more about how I rock the mornings with the girls (also, please ignore the part where I say it's not Danny's fault he sleeps in... he should get no credit here).

2)  I cook for the girls.  Granted, some times it's just Kraft Dinner, or hotdogs... and maybe a handful of times it's been cheese and crackers or whatever else I could find resembling food.  But still.  I cook, therefore I win.

3)  I play with Gracie.  Barbies, Playdough, nail polish, or whatever else she wants.  Danny plays too, I'll give him that... but I'm pretty sure I do it better.  Please don't think that Danny deserves extra points for playing with "girl" toys when he's a big strong man.  After all, it was him who made them girls.  Just sayin'.

4)  I read books to the girls.  Danny reads too, it's true.  But I use cool voices.  (That means I win)

5)  When Gracie starts her endless jibber-jabbering about totally mundane or non-sensical things and expects you to reply to every single sentence even if you're in the middle of a million other things at the time, I do it more often before screaming "for the love of God, please make this child stop."  Not every time, because usually I've been Super-Momming it up all day and dont have the patience, so sometimes Danny beats me (that is NOT a reference to my black eye)... ...yeah, I better let him have this one.

6)  I'm patient-er.  Nope, this is not true.  Give this one to him too.

7)  I cry more often.  It's obviously because I care more.  Bonus points, please!

Well, I'm pretty sure I'm running out of things to compare... but that's only because I'm distracted because the house needs to be tidied up and meals planned for tomorrow, and I'm doing it alone because Danny is off galavanting all the way across the country in Yellowknife.  Yes, he's gone because of work.  No, that's not an excuse not to be here (can I get a points deduction here please?)!

So as you can clearly see... #1 parent, right here!!  Take that, all you strangers at the mall who think he's so awesome.  By the way, in case you feel like complimenting him on his parenting skills, please don't, because I'm pretty sure it's going to his head... because if you were to ask him who the better parent is, he'd probably say himself, and that's just crazy.

PS - This parenting comparison is done in jest.  Danny is a fantastic parent!  I couldn't ask for a better husband or father for my girls.  He bathes, burps, feeds, walks, plays with, disciplines, wipes, cleans, and everything else that I do.  And all without being asked.  He is an amazing father, and the girls are so lucky to have him!!

PPS - But seriously, I still win.

A Birthday Girl...

As I write this, it is 7:41 p.m.  That means that 2 years and 10 minutes ago, Gracie was born.  She was a stubborn unborn baby, who arrived 11 days after her due date!  Below is a picture of me on January 11, 2011... Gracie's due date.  Below that is January 20, 2011, the day before I was admitted to the hospital to get that little girl out!

We drove to Kentville on January 21, 2011, at 8:30 in the morning.  I had a 9:00 appointment to get the induction started.  Since we were at the beginning of an incredibly nasty snowstorm, Dr. Rudd was kind enough to admit me so that I wouldn't have to drive home that night and come back the next day (since induction is usually a 2-day process).  By 10:30 a.m., the appointment was over and I was told to "go enjoy your day" but be back by 5 p.m. so they could check my progress.  I can tell you that immediately after the appointment, my contractions (which I had been having steadily for about 5 days) changed from Braxton Hicks to the real deal.  But it was nothing too severe, they just felt different!  We headed out to do some shopping, and get some lunch at Coras.  The contractions gradually got stronger... nothing too bad, but enough that I had to stop walking when one came on.  

We headed back to the hospital around 4 pm, and couldn't see the road in front of us.  We got dumped on.  Around 30 cms.  It was really wet and heavy snow, and it was fairly mild during the day.  Of course that evening, the temperature plummetted, the roads turned to complete snow-packed ice, and my parents had a 5 1/2 hour drive ahead of them the next day.  Yay.

The contractions got stronger and stronger, and by 10:00, they were strong enough that I needed some assistance sleeping.  So the lovely nurse shot me in the ass with some morphine, and to sleep I went.  Until 1:30 a.m., when I woke from a morphine-induced coma and realized that this was probably the real deal.  I walked the halls of the hospital by myself until about 4 a.m., when I couldn't do it anymore and had to wake up Danny.  We walked and paced and breathed and moaned for another 6 hours, when I agreed to an epidural.  After that, the day was quite lovely.  We relaxed in our room and chatted with my sister, and parents (who finally arrived around 3 pm), and at 5:30, the nurse said "you're 10 cms."  They gave it another hour, just to make sure, then told me to push that baby out.  At 7:31, Gracie Helena Ford made her grand entrance.  Here's her first photo, about 10 minutes old!

  

We had a nice "relaxing" weekend in the hospital, and by Monday morning, we were ready to get the hell home!

We settled in at home, and it wasn't long before all the "firsts" started happening... first smile, first laugh, first word, first step...

And before we knew it... it was her first birthday!!  I was already 3 1/2 months pregnant with Ella when this birthday rolled around, and I couldn't believe we were here already.  Time moves so fast once you have kids it's unbelievable!

And now, here we are... at Birthday #2!  We celebrated Gracie's birthday on Saturday with all of her friends, and she was so excited!  This morning she couldn't stop grinning, and I have to admit, I couldn't either.  It was so amazing to see our tiny little baby grown up into this two-year old!  Every new word, expression, and even tantrum, makes me realize how lucky I am to have such beautiful children... I can't wait for next year, just because every birthday makes me look back and fall in love all over again with how little she used to be, how far she's come, and look with excitement at the amazing lady she's going to grow up into.  Happy Birthday Gracie!! xox

The Witching Hour...

Well it's 5:00 p.m. in the Ford house (it's not really - it's more like 7:00, but go with me!), and Witching Hour is upon us.  Witching Hour is what I lovingly refer to as that hour between nap time and supper; usually 4:30-5:30.  Witching Hour is always easiest to manage when there are two adults in the house... one to make supper (that would be me), and one to entertain the little witches... er, I mean children.  The problem is that Danny is now back to work after a lovely 11-week parental leave.  That leaves me to cook supper and entertain the children... it does not go well.

For some reason, when Gracie wakes up from her nap, she is hungry.  No, not hungry.  Hungry would mean that I could feed her and she would stop asking for food.  Between 4:30 and 5:30, Gracie's appetite is insatiable.  Insatiable and... what's the word I'm looking for here... finicky.  Gracie is usually a fantastic eater.  "Want a banana?" "Yes, please."  "Want some crackers?" "Yes, please." "Want  *insert any food here*?" "Yes, please."  But at 4:30... the answer to every question is "no."  No crackers.  No bananas.  No oranges.  No yogurt.  And by the fourth food that I've offered, Gracie is usually laying on the floor crying.  I'm not going to lie... this is frustrating for me.  So every afternoon we have the same conversation.  "So what would you like, Gracie?!"  "Foooooooood!"   That answer is not helpful.  So I put some crackers in a bowl for her, and tell her to eat them.  She has one or two, then is back on the floor screaming that she's hungry.  Even if I do manage to get her to eat the whole bowl of crackers, she is still hungry and wants something else.  I know what she wants... she wants whatever I'm cooking for supper.  But unfortunately, it's not ready yet.

In the meantime, Ella is usually in her exersaucer while I'm preparing supper.  She bounces and laughs and smiles and "ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya"s away like a good little baby.  And then the two minutes are over and she's upset now too.  She's been fed, so she should technically be a satisfied little girl.  Except that she knows now that she gets food at supper time too.  And she wants it.  Now.  Not to mention that Gracie is either hanging off my leg, or lying on the kitchen floor crying, so Ella thinks I can't hear her protests.  So she screams.  I don't mean yells.  I mean screams.  As in, shrill, high-pitched, makes your ears bleed, screaming.  Since Ella is now screaming, Gracie is pretty sure I've forgotten about the fact that she hasn't eaten in three weeks, and she raises her cries a decibel level too.  So Ella, not to be outdone by her older sister, screams louder as well.  Now Gracie is mad because Ella's screams are hurting her ears, so she yells at Ella to "stop that screaming or you go in timeout."  I tell Gracie that Ella doesn't know she's not supposed to scream like that, and maybe she should try making her laugh instead.  Gracie is a fantastic big sister.  She loves to make Ella laugh.  But not during Witching Hour.  The fact that I even suggested she try to entertain Ella obviously means I have forgotten that Gracie is now 10 lbs lighter with starvation.  So Gracie starts crying again, with gusto this time, and screaming "NOOOOOOOOO, MOMMY!" at me.  I tell her that that's not acceptable behaviour, and that she needs to find her happy voice or else she will have to take a time out.  Gracie's legs give out from beneath her (because of the lack of sustenance in her body, obviously), and she flops onto the floor where she cries some more.  But she's not being rude at the moment, so the time-out is forgiven.

Meanwhile, supper is just about half-way ready.  I explain this to Gracie, who immediately stops crying and goes to her supper chair.  When I try to explain that it's not ready yet, Gracie starts banging on the table and whining, "I want my suppppppper, mommy!  I want my supppppppppppppper!"

Ella is still crying and screaming, by the way... in case you forgot about her.

I'm standing at the stove now, stirring whatever lovely creation is cooking away and wondering why I have two kids.  Was I crazy?  Do I really love them?  How much could I get for them if I sell them on Kijiji?

And then a song pops into my head... "All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel.  The monkey thought twas all in fun. POP! Goes the weasel."  So I start singing it out loud.  The girls go quiet... Ella looks at me like I'm crazy, Gracie is just staring at me with her mouth open and her tummy growling.  "It worked!" I think.  And then Gracie starts screaming "Stop singing mommy!  I want my supppppppper!!"  And Ella starts crying again too.  By now, the little voice inside my head is also starting to scream, and it's twice as loud in there!  I have no choice but to keep singing... I either sing, or I scream too (or perhaps do that really scary maniacal laugh, where you start and can't stop)!  So it's "5 Little Ducks," "Twinkle, Twinkle," "I've Been Working on the Railroad" and all the other songs I can remember from our travel CD until dinner is ready.  I'm singing really loudly too, since Gracie and Ella are trying to drown me out!

I put dinner on the table.  Gracie dries her eyes and eats.  Ella gets her cereal and starts laughing again. Supper is over.  The girls play while I clean up.  I get Ella ready for bed and she has her last bottle.  We snuggle on the couch, just the three of us, while I read Ella her bedtime books.  All is quiet in the Ford house... and I wonder, just for a minute, if I dreamed Witching Hour.  It seems like a distant memory now, a little foggy, and I'm not quite sure if it was as bad as I thought it was... and I think to myself, "these kids are pretty darn cute!"  But rest assured, 4:30 will come again tomorrow night and I'll be reminded again of just how "cute" they are...

PS - I'm a good mother, so I parented this evening, instead of recording my demon children (like I wanted to)!  I'm going to get video of it soon though, and share for your amusement :)

A New Year's Resolution...

Christmas has officially ended, and we've just rung in the New Year.  Danny and I love this time of year.  We're the type who turn on our Christmas lights December 1, and bring our tree in the first weekend in December as well.  We decorate the house, inside and out, and play Christmas music the whole month.  We absolutely love Christmas!

But there is one thing that always bothers me about Christmas time... Christmas is supposed to be a time of year that reminds us of how lucky we are to have what we do, to reflect on the importance of family, to remember how much we love each other, and to treat each other with love and respect.  It's a time when you can count on complete strangers to smile at you, to hold open a door, or to go out of their way to help someone they don't even know.  And yet each and every year, I am reminded that some people seem to care more about the presents, about keeping score, about making others feel guilty... so many seem to forget the true meaning of Christmas!

There is no worse feeling than to be so full of Christmas spirit, grinning ear to ear, and have someone make a comment, more than likely without even thinking, about something they perceive as a "slight."  It just completely deflates you... takes the joy right out of you, and makes you wonder "why bother."  It is just so frustrating!  It can be family members, friends, acquaintances, or complete strangers.  But there are always those people who just don't seem to think before they speak.  It happens all year, and yet for some reason, it especially bothers me this time of year.

So I have decided to make a New Years' resolution... these people will not bother me any longer.  I will give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they just don't realize how the things they say make people feel.  I will hope that, deep down, they are appreciative of the things that are done for them and just don't know how to express their gratitude.  I will try my best to remember that people's reactions shouldn't be the reason we do things in the first place.  We should do what is good and right, regardless of what we get in return!  I think a part of all of us wants recognition for good deeds done, but it really and truly shouldn't have any affect on our decision to do those good things, and I resolve to remember this!

I also know that I have been on the other end of a thoughtless comment.  We've all said something and then realized that it wasn't the thing we should have said, and I really want to work on making sure that, first and foremost, people realize that we are grateful for them!  We have an amazing circle of family and friends, and they should always feel appreciated and loved.  Life is too short to spend it making other people feel guilty and bad about themselves.  Life is too short to waste time being hurt or insulted by those who may not even mean to make us feel bad.  And life is certainly too short to hold grudges or be bitter about things that have happened in the past!  I can't control what other people say or do, but I can control how I react, and how personally I take it!  And that is my resolution for the New Year... wish me luck! :)

"Every time you are tempted to react in the same old way, ask yourself if you want to be a prisoner of the past or a pioneer of the future" - Deepak Chopra