Friday, 24 April 2015

A Sleeping Baby

Malcolmsleeping

Tonight while I hold Malcolm in my arms, my heart breaks a little.  He has just fallen asleep, with a peaceful look on his face and a dribble of milk on his chin.  He looks content, calm and oh so sweet.

I look at him and I think, "you trust me."  You trust me and you are safe and you are healthy and I don't want this moment to end.  This is when my heart breaks.  Someday, he will get sick, he will be mistreated, his heart will get broken, he will lose his job, he will break his arm, he will feel lonely and he will make mistakes.  Right now, he is heavy in my arms and he is safe.

Every criminal, every lawyer, every cancer patient, every overworked doctor, every CEO, every slave has lived this moment.  Someone has held them with hopes and dreams and fears, recognizing the moment of innocence.

And then the moment passed.

Tuesday, 21 April 2015

The Best Laid Plans

ScarlettSashaKingston
Scarlett and I in Kingston.  Enjoying a fleeting moment of having everything all tidily planned out.

You know those moments when you think you've got life all planned out?  That was last Friday afternoon for me.  And you know those days when the best laid plans unravel?  That was last Saturday.

Friday was a family day.  We hung out in Kingston together, enjoying the moment more than usual because we had carefully planned out a date day on Saturday.  Mid-morning chat, lunch out, dinner at Scarlett's school fundraiser.  We even scheduled in a nap.  It was going to be awesome.

On our way home from Kingston, we got a text.  Our babysitter bailed on us.  No biggy, we thought, we can find a babysitter in the morning.  

In the morning, Shawn woke up with a wicked cold.  No problemo, we thought, cross out the nap, we can still go to dinner.

Dayquil wasn't really fixing the cold situation.  Okay, so not so much a date night as a "Shawn stay home and sleep while Sasha takes out a friend for a girls night" with Malcolm in tow.

Plans were made.  Pick up my friend at 6:15pm to arrive at 6:35pm, a fashionable five minutes late for the 6:30pm start time published on the ticket.  Except I didn't look carefully at the tickets until I grabbed them on my way out the door.  At 6:10pm, I discovered that the fundraiser started at 5:30pm.  Woops.  Sigh.  Gah!

But this is when this tragedy shifts into a joy.  My friend was so happy to be out of the house, she laughed when I told her there might not be any food.  Lets go on the adventure, we decided.  We arrived, and everyone was just sitting down to eat.  We even snagged carseat-friendly end-of-the-table chairs.  Of course, it turns out that we had inadvertently stole them from someone else, but at this point, we had the pity of the crowd.

The evening was great: good food, live music, and I won a prize.  There was that one awkward moment when the waitress tripped on the car seat and her tray of of beer and wine landed in it, but the baby wasn't there at the time, and really, what says I'm a mother of three (and in over my head) better that carrying around a car seat that emanates the odour of sour red wine? 

So all in all, it was a success.  The best part is that my prize is a gift certificate to a really nice restaurant in town, so whenever we've recovered and the smell has worn off, Shawn and I can plan another date night and do it all over again.

Sunday, 19 April 2015

Nevin: The rulemaker

Nevin loves rules.  Give him a reason to follow a rule and he'll tell the world about it.  His new thing is making signs so that he can tell the world about the expectations even if he's not in the room.  In a typical week you might find two or three laying around the living room.  I've included this week's cache for historical documentation of the Era of Signs.

Sometimes, they are mundane and straightforward, like this one he made in the bathroom:
NoTrucks
"No trucks."

Sometimes they are very specific.
NoBumbo
"No touching Malcolm when he is sitting in the Bumbo on the kitchen table."  (The circles with five sticks are hands.)

And sometimes they are ornery.
NoRailway
"Scarlett is not allowed to touch my train set.  Ever."


p.s.  Nevin saw me putting together this post.  What did have to say about it?  "Mom, I know how to make signs out of Lego, too."

Sunday, 5 April 2015

Super Easter Stories

supergirl

Story #1:

Wednesday after school the kids made an Easter egg hunt for Shawn and I.  Nothing makes you love parenthood more the a series of picto clues leading you around your house that end with a note that says "HAPPY EStER" in the toy car bin.


Story #2:

We made it to church with two minutes to spare.  All went relatively well, considering how tired the kids were (the post Easter Bunny crash can be a real doozy).  Children's liturgy let out early so the children could renew their Baptismal Promises with the rest of the congregation, which looks a lot like kids just standing bewildered at the front of the church occasionally saying "I do" on a three second time delay.

We got back to our pew and I realized that in the rush, I had left the diaper bag in the sacristy.  This was right around the same time I realized Malcolm was getting fussy because his diaper was leaking through his clothes.  I should probably mention that the sacristy only has two entrances: one from the outside and the other about 10 feet to the right of the altar.  No big deal, I thought, I'll just brave the cold and break into the sacristy through the unlocked outer door.  I mean it is Easter after all, what better way to celebrate Christ's forgiveness than to ask for it after breaking into your church?  Well, turns out the door was locked, and I think vandalizing your church door might be asking for too much forgiveness.  Luckily, I ran into another mom at the back of the church - a good, kind, Catholic mom with a lot of kids - who told me she would take care of it.  And didn't she just march straight up past the altar as the whole congregation looked on, and get me some life saving diapers.

I wanted to tell her the if she died right then and there, she was surely going straight to heaven.  Then my filter kicked in (usually its broken) and I realized that suggesting someone's imminent death might not be the best expression of gratitude.  But I'm telling you: she'd need to commit a weeks worth of murders to loose her ticket.  I am so grateful for her.

Thursday, 2 April 2015

Lost Tooth

firsttooth

Today was a big day in the Warner household.  Nevin lost his first tooth.  I have horrible memories of my mother yanking my teeth out while I cried, so we went the opposite way: it was so loose, that when Nevin pushed his tongue on in after school to show me how wiggly it was, it fell out.  It was during a break in the kids' road hockey game.  Loosing a tooth in a hockey game?  Very Canadian of him.

Nevin was beside himself he was so excited.  He ran up to all the neighbours who were outside: "Look!  Whats different?  Look at my smile!  Notice anything about my teeth?!"

When he told Scarlett, she cocked her head to the side, scrunched her shoulders up, clasped her hands by her chest and proclaimed, "Oh Nevin, this is so exciting.  It means your big person teeth are ready to grow" in the same way old ladies in movies from the 1950's might greet lambs or newborns.  To borrow a term from that generation: it was absolutely precious.

Daddy was away tonight, so he doesn't get to see it.  Our little accountant is anxious to get what's coming his way and although rumour has it that the tooth fairy will wait to pick up teeth until all parents have seen said tooth, he insisted that the exchange must be made TONIGHT.  When I asked him what he thought the going rate for teeth is these days, he thought $20 would suffice.  I explained to him that the teeth recycling business hit rock bottom in the last recession and hasn't fully recovered.  Perhaps one to two dollars would be more reasonable.  He thought $2 wasn't so bad either, considering the economic conditions.

We celebrated by having wraps for dinner ("Look!  It fits right through!"), brushing our teeth ("Look!  It fits right through!"), and reading Stuart Little until Malcolm was bored to tears.
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