Categories
Uncategorized

On Not Keeping Up At All Oh God Please Help

Life is a complete scramble right now. It’s not just the mad rush to cram lunch in my kids’ faces and pack Colum a snack and get everybody out the door in time to catch the school bus every single day. It’s not just the trying to get a six year old out of a wet bathing suit with a screaming baby and a three year old running laps around the change room. It’s not just juggling t-ball practices and games and two different swimming lessons  with dinner prep and dirty diapers. It’s not just getting them dressed and undressed and bathed and maybe even squeezing in time for a shower myself.

That’s just my baseline scramble. That stuff is expected.

It’s also the laundry and the dishes and the toys and the games and the snippets of paper and all the freaking STUFF that I can’t keep at bay. It’s the papers from school piling up on the kitchen counter and the dry erase calendar that’s been scribbled over. It’s the doctor’s appointments and birthday parties to attend and to throw and the countless other events and obligations I can no longer keep in my head. It’s the pantry jammed full of food stuff in no particular order despite my best intentions to keep it organized. Ditto for the fridge. And the linen closet. And all the closets and drawers, really. It’s the cleaning and weeding and planting and mulching and all kinds of other gardening-type stuff I’m still learning about.

It’s also this blog and the other writing I should be doing. In any given moment I have SO MUCH to do that I am paralyzed with indecision. If Mary’s napping for an hour what can I really get accomplished? A blog post? Maybe, if it’s crappy, and if I don’t also check in with Twitter and Facebook and G+ and Pinterest and my email and my other email. I’ll start to unload the dishwasher and then put some clothes in the dryer and then get Irene a snack and then start to pick up the toys in the living room and then quickly check my email … and somehow nothing gets done.

And that is the hardest part of parenting for me. The doing nothing. We go to the park and they play and maybe I play too or chat with another parent and, really, I’m doing nothing. It’s just so much waiting around. Waiting for swimming and t-ball and the school bus. Waiting for bedtime.

I know, intellectually, that’s it’s not doing nothing. I know that in those gaps, those moments of waiting and doing nothing, the best parts of parenting happen. Just being there, watching the t-ball game. Reading to Irene and Mary while we wait. Playing ball with the kids. Walking places! We do our best talking when we’re walking and driving places. It’s just so hard to be in that moment when I’m constantly rifling through a never-ending To Do list in my head. It feels like I’m doing nothing and I don’t have time for nothing!

I also know that this is magnified tenfold by the baby. So much of our at-home time is spent caring for an increasingly mobile and demanding baby. The half hour here, the twenty minutes there that I used to spend cleaning the kitchen, prepping dinner, folding laundry or even reading a magazine are no longer sufficient. Or, rather, I just don’t get those twenty or thirty uninterrupted minutes anymore. So what could be, should be and used to be a twenty minute job now takes an hour if it gets done at all. And then the sheer volume of chores and tasks and work to be done during naps and at night is just too much.

But babies grow up. In the blink of an eye Mary will be walking and talking and I will miss this babyhood. So this too shall pass and I shouldn’t wish it away before its time.

In the meantime, I need discipline and schedules and routines that work. I need organization. Please help a girl out. What are your best tips for organizing your time?

 

Categories
Uncategorized

Witching Hour

Baby Mary sat in her stroller in the backyard

Watching her siblings play.

Watching the neighbour kids play, too.

I kept peeking out from the kitchen to make sure she was all right,

Smiling at how happy she was just to sit and watch.

The sun was shining and birds were singing.

Then, as if in an instant,

I’m juggling my now-fussy baby and trying to finish dinner on the stove.

The kids are inside now,

Fighting and whining and everywhere.

Ed’s caught in a transit delay.

Everybody’s hungry and I can’t keep up with the laundry or the dishes or the gardening or the cleaning.

There are bills to pay and papers to fill out and calenders to keep up and school bags to empty and fill.

Groceries to buy and breakfasts, lunches, dinners, snacks, omg, the never-ending snacks to make.

And work is slow this week, this month, and I can’t afford the babysitter, but how do I get more work without a sitter?

And breathe.

(Or cry in the bathroom. Just a little bit.)

And everybody sit and eat your damned dinner or you won’t get any chocolate.

And breathe.

It’s just between 5 and 7pm.

Again.

Categories
Uncategorized

Cereal Binging

I’ve been sprinkling Cheerios on Mary’s high chair tray to buy myself a few extra minutes in the kitchen for the past couple weeks. She loves them and has almost mastered her pincer grasp by plucking a Cheerio between her thumb and forefinger. Well, she picks up Cheerios and also any little snippet of paper or random speck of garbage on the floor; she’s not that discriminating.

But yesterday there was most of a whole bowl full of dry Brown Rice Krispies sitting in the kitchen when I plopped Mary in her high chair. Colum has long-standing issues with sogginess and breakfast cereal and now Irene won’t have milk on her cereal either. The only problem, of course, is that nobody actually wants to dig into a bowl full of dry cereal. Gah. Why, oh why, can’t my kids just eat a bloody bowl of cereal for breakfast and be done with it? Why does it have to be so hard?!

So there’s this bowl full of Rice Krispies and I think, “Hmm.” I check out the nutritional info and the ingredient list and it doesn’t seem any worse than Cheerios. I sprinkle a few grains onto the high chair and Mary happily starts eating it. “Mary likes Rice Krispies!” I exclaim to no one in particular. I then turn around for, I don’t know, TEN SECONDS, to take the kids’ lunch off the stove and Irene dumps huge fistfuls of Rice Krispies on Mary’s high chair tray.

So there’s, like, a mountain of dry Rice Krispies on the high chair and Mary just face plants into it. Rice Krispies are flying everywhere and Mary comes up for air, grinning like no tomorrow, gumming huge mouthfuls of the stuff. She keeps going back down for more, delirious over the sheer quantity of food.

IMG-20120501-00496.jpg

This was probably her fifth nose dive into it and really doesn’t do justice to the amount of cereal she started with.

IMG-20120501-00497.jpg

What’s so funny, guys? No, really. What is it?

Categories
Uncategorized

Cooking and Cleaning, Baked Pasta Edition

Disclosure: I am part of the Finish Blogger Program by Mom Central. I received compensation as part of my affiliation with this group.  The opinions on this blog are my own.

The good people at Finish and Mom Central Canada thought it would be fun for bloggers to post about a family dinner with baked on food and to show how the dishes clean up using Finish Quantum. Share your cooking experience and some before and after pics of the dishes, they said.

What I heard, though, was a call to trot out my inner Pioneer Woman. I mean, aside from the fantastic cooking and photographing, we’re practically the same person. (And the homeschooling, ohmygod. That woman is a saint, a saint who makes me want to cook wonderfully delicious and fattening things.)

But a seven month old baby and the t-ball, swimming, birthday party, kindergarten orientation, end-of-season hockey party schedule from hell dictated the dish. We’re having baked pasta with jarred sauce and hella cheese. Read carefully as I navigate you through the recipe in excruciating detail.

IMG-20120430-00453.jpg

First, and this is important, pour a good amount of water in a big pot and put it on to boil. Don’t worry about cleaning your sink before you post pictures of it to the internet either.

IMG-20120430-00455.jpg

While your waiting for the water to boil, gather the rest of your ingredients. I’m using some sort of tubular pasta that’s bigger than penne, but smaller than rigatoni. You can use whatever you want as long as it’s not spaghetti. Baked spaghetti is stupid. Learn from my mistakes. I also had most of a jar of this ah-mazing marinara sauce I just discovered at Costco. You can make your own if you like things to take longer and be less delicious. I used to be that way, too. Lastly, there’s the cheese. I happen to live around the corner from a fantastic little cheese factory with all the fresh mozzarella and ricotta and freshly grated Parmesan a heart can desire. You’ll have to make do with whatever you can get your hands on. Sorry.

IMG-20120430-00456.jpg

Start grating the mozzarella. You can just tell how good this stuff is, can’t you? You’ll probably want to sneak a couple tastes just to make sure at this point too. It’s okay, I won’t tell.

IMG-20120430-00457.jpg

Go ahead and grate all that cheese. What the hell are you saving it for anyway?

IMG-20120430-00459.jpg

Your water’s probably boiling by now, so — wait for it — go ahead and add the pasta. What would you do without me?

IMG-20120430-00461.jpg

Set your colander in the sink while you wait for the pasta to cook. And if you’re like me, you’ll probably have to wash it while you’re there.

IMG-20120430-00462.jpg

It’s also a good idea to set out your baking dish. Again, I’m using a Pyrex dish, but you can use anything that’s oven safe as long it has an ample cheese sprinkling surface.

IMG-20120430-00465.jpg

Things are about to get a little more involved at this point, so it’s not a bad idea to call in a helper. (Cupcake apron sold separately.)

IMG-20120430-00466.jpg

Drain the pasta in the colander and then transfer to the baking dish. Aren’t you glad I told you to have them ready and waiting?

IMG-20120430-00469.jpg

Pour on your tomato sauce. Life is good.

IMG-20120430-00470.jpg

Take a well-deserved break while your helper mixes the pasta with the sauce.

IMG-20120430-00473.jpg

Then let her sprinkle on the mozzarella cheese — all of the mozzarella cheese. Life just got better.

IMG-20120430-00478.jpg

She’s going to want to add about a quarter cup of grated Parmesan, too. Don’t get in her way.

IMG-20120430-00479.jpg

At this point, you can just pop this baby in a 350 or 375 degree oven for half an hour or until the cheese gets all good and bubbly. Or you can put a lid on it and put it in the fridge while you head out in a downpour to take a 6 year old to swimming lessons with a 3 year old and a 7 month old in tow. Whichever.

IMG-20120430-00480.jpg

Eventually we returned home and popped that baby in the oven. This is not a cooking show, my friends. That is a real oven, greased up window and all.

IMG-20120430-00486.jpg

And it’s ready! Do you see what the oven did to that cheese? Look at how wonderfully brown and crispy-gooey it is.

IMG-20120430-00487.jpg

Look at it! Don’t look at the conspicuous lack of a salad, though. I was going to pick up greens to serve with the pasta, but did I mention the downpour and the three young children? Random veggies from the fridge it is!

IMG-20120430-00488.jpg

And here’s the payback. (Well, there’s this and the calories applied directly to my hips.) That pan is covered in tomato-y grease and baked-on cheese. The picture doesn’t even really do it justice. Normally I’d let it soak for a bit in the sink and then scrub it with dish soap, elbow grease and scouring pads. This time they want me to put it in the dishwasher.

IMG-20120430-00495.jpg

You guys. That is one shiny, clean baking dish. Even the glassware I washed with it is sparkling. Just pretend you don’t notice the giant container of Cascade dishwasher gel in the background. I was using that before and washing every single pot and pan by hand.

I am about to start saving a lot of time. Whatever should I do with it? [Pointedly not looking at the mountain of laundry or floor covered with toys.]

Categories
Uncategorized

How Do You Really Feel?

“Okay, guys, who’s going to help me make the beef stew for dinner?”

“Not me.”

“Not me.”

“This reminds me of a story about The Little Red Hen.”

“This reminds me,” says Irene, “of a story about a girl with nothing to do with her brother.”

Touché.

***

Mary is bouncing in her high chair

As I hand Colum and Irene a bowl of grapes.

“Make sure you don’t let Mary have any grapes,” I warn.

“They are the perfect size and shape to get caught in her windpipe and to stop her from breathing.

Even toddlers need them cut in half.”

“Right, ” says Colum.

“That would make a baby die. Well, first they would choke and then they would die.

Isn’t that right, Mom? They would choke first and then die?”

“Uh, I guess that’s right.”

God forbid we leave out a step.

Categories
Uncategorized

Of Bowls and Lentils and Threats Made Good

We have those ubiquitous Ikea plastic bowls in the assorted colours along with a couple other stray plastic bowls. But I don’t like using them for hot food. Then we have lots of grown-up sized bowls that go with the set of everyday dishes we got as a wedding present. We have some little Japanese-style rice bowls that I often use for the kids, two shallow bowls that say “pasta” on them, two small blue bowls and one Royal Doulton Bunnykins bowl. You can see where this is going.

The bowl is actually Colum’s. He got it as a gift for his first birthday or his baptism or something, back when he was our one and only. Irene, of course, LOVES that bowl more than anything and Colum is kind enough to let her use it sometimes. They take turns, is the theory.

Yesterday Irene helped me put together the first lentil stew I’ve made in years. I even boiled some lentils plain for baby Mary. I reached for the bowls and … they were almost all dirty. I had one clean Japanese rice bowl and the Bunnykins.  I spooned some stew into each and set the Bunnykins at Irene’s place. Colum then complained that it was his turn for the bowl and if there are two things you can count on in this world they that kid’s sense of fairness and his impeccable memory.

So I tried to switch bowls.

There was screaming and crying. There was foot stomping and full-on thrashing on the kitchen floor. There was begging and pleading and hands thrown up in frustration and, you guessed it, Irene wound up with the bowl.

Irene sat up at the table with Colum’s Bunnykins bowl full of delicious (if I don’t say so myself) lentil stew and refused to try even one bite. She ate toast with butter and drank her milk and would not deign to place a solitary lentil in her mouth. Not one stinking lentil, people!

“That’s it,” I said. “If you don’t at least try your dinner tonight, I’m going to cook this every night until you do.”

So, guess what I’m making for dinner tonight?

Categories
Uncategorized

Pretty, pretty please?

I pick up the plate of orange peels

And step over the pile of kids’ clothes, mini dinosaurs and sports cards.

“I’m just going to tidy up and then we’ll pick up Colum from the school bus and check out a new park.”

Irene looks at me.

“But when are we going to go to the sabanah?”

” …. “

I realize that Zabumafu is on TV.

“Do you mean the savannah? The African savannah?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“Well, I don’t know, sweetie. I’ve never even been to the savannah. It’s far away across the world.”

Looking at me and batting her eyelashes,

“Pleeeeeease.”

Categories
Contests Uncategorized

Girls Gone Gift Shopping

I am participating in the Indigo Kids program by Mom Central Canada.  I received compensation for my participation in this campaign.  The opinions on this blog are my own. (This one’s also a giveaway!)

CONTEST CLOSED.

Colum’s class went on a field trip yesterday which meant I got to had to drop him off first thing in the morning and he would come home at the end of the school day. For this parent of a child in half-day kindergarten, this was nothing short of THE MOST WONDERFUL THING EVER. I still had a three year old and a baby to take care of, true, but now we had time to go places and do things.

Categories
Uncategorized

The Sofa Bed of DEATH (or Minor Bruising)

The two bigger kids were playing in one of the upstairs bedrooms, the one that used to be “Claire’s room,” but now houses all of the toys. Baby Mary and I were chatting with my grandmother in the living room of the house that she has lived in for 55 years or so and the house that she still manages to keep in pristine condition all by herself at 80+ years of age. Unfortunately the impeccable housekeeping trait seems to have skipped a couple generations and been replaced with compulsive web surfing instead. Genetics, why hath you forsaken me?!

So there we were chatting it up when I heard the first scream. Kids scream, right? That’s what they do. So I ignored it. The second scream caught my attention, but I still kept talking. But that third scream. There was no mistaking the urgency and the pain in that third scream.

I sprinted up the stairs, baby in arms, and found Colum kneeling in front of the sofa bed, screaming and screaming. I plopped Mary on the floor and raced over to find his middle fingertip caught in the hinge. It seemed like both lifting the bed up or folding it back down would just squeeze his finger even worse.

In no time at all my grandmother was squeezing hand soap onto the hinge and I rubbed it all around his finger. Still, he screamed. I tried to pry the hinges further apart with my own fingers, I tried to ease his finger down and out and nothing was working. I started to flirt with the idea of losing it because what on earth do we do?! I am his mother, how can I not just make this better?!

Just then, his finger slid out. Thank goodness for over 80 years of wisdom and liquid hand soap. Thank goodness.

Between tears and ice and nursing hungry, screaming babies we found out that he was just trying to unfold the bed. His finger was bruised and a bit swollen, but he’ll be fine. And he’ll never, ever do that again.

But, holy shit. I forgot that as kids get older they just find more new and exciting ways to hurt themselves and scare the crap out of their parents. *blinking* It’s never going to end, is it?

Categories
Uncategorized

Bathroom Makeover! Kind of.

This post is sponsored by Cottonelle, where they respect the roll.

Happy second anniversary of home ownership to us!

Two years ago we quickly snapped up a power-of-sale, fixer up on a major street in a neighbourhood we love. We quickly put in a kitchen, pulled up two layers of vinyl tiles on the second floor and refinished the original hardwood underneath, replaced both the furnace and the water heater, built a fence, opened up a doorway, installed central air, painted and weeded. Then we ran out of steam. Steam and money.

There is still so much to do. Let’s just focus on the bathrooms for now. We have three bathrooms. Nice, right? That’s two more than many three-bedroom semis in this city come with. I can see the envy in people’s eyes when I casually drop the number of bathrooms we have. “I might have to look into a cleaning lady,” I’ll say. “It’s just too hard trying to clean SO many bathrooms.” “Toilet training is a breeze when you have a bathroom on every floor!” They’re probably picturing a nice ensuite off the master bedroom, a standard four-piece for the kids and a little powder room downstairs. That’s not the case.

Our main bathroom is on the second floor, near the bedrooms. It is one of the smallest bathrooms ever made, for one.  It was also beyond scuzzy when we first bought the house. But we had time and budget constraints and having a house with a kitchen was priority number one. So we decided to just cover the old tiles with panels that could be glued to the walls, use peel and stick tiles on the floor, slap on a fresh coat of paint and give the rest a good scrubbing. We finished it up with a new shower head, shower curtain and assorted fixtures. It looked pretty good — until the wall panels started peeling off. Now they just sort of sag inward toward the tub. The kids can bathe up there, but we can’t get the walls wet until we find the time and money to redo them.

That brings me to the basement — quite literally, in fact — because that’s where I have to go to shower. As long as you remember to duck en route to the tub, you can usually avoid smashing your head on the heating duct. Also, if you first wet one side of the shower curtain, you can get it to stick to the wall and minimize the pool of water that will drip onto the floor from the leaky shower head. We’re working on the ant infestation down there and I, for one, think the four different tile patterns are charming. Irene loves the pink toilet too.

I used to shower on the main floor because that bathroom is by far the most functional of the three. It’s not stylish by any stretch of the imagination, but the tiles match and the room is basically in good repair. It’s in an addition on the back of the house, just past the kitchen and next to the laundry machines. So what if you have to step over a pile of kiddie shoes, bags and jackets? At least the clothes you didn’t take out of the dryer are right there! It wasn’t bad at all … until the fall. It turns out that addition is the crappiest structure ever built. It’s basically drywall thrown up on top of an old porch with little to no insulation. It’s FREEZING back there in the winter. On really cold days I have to bring the kids’ coats into the kitchen to warm up before going out. I have to wear a scarf to do laundry.

But it’s spring! The bathroom was looking a little dumpy after the off season, so what better time for a BATHROOM MAKEOVER! You know how crafty I am.  Remember that time I bought a sewing machine and still have only sewed one thing once? I can’t really do any worse than that, right?

Here’s what I was dealing with:

BathroomMakeover1.jpg

It gets worse:

BathroomMakeover2

Wait, there’s more:

BathroomMakeover3

My work was cut out for me.

I cleared out the junk, hung up a “Live Well, Laugh Often, Love Much,” plaque that was lying around and gave it a half-assed cleaning. VOILA!

BathroomRedoAFTER

That’s right, my friends, no more unsightly toilet paper hanging around. All right, it’s less that toilet paper is unsightly and more that this extra toilet paper roll cover by Cottonelle is actually really cute. More than anything, my bathroom needed a splash of colour and this was so easy. Oh, and of course I used a filter on my “after” shot. We all know my makeover skills need all the help they can get.

And the best part?

threerolls

There’s one for all three of my bathrooms. Try not to be too jealous.