Compliments

We all know kids say the darndest things, typically they tell the truth, nice or not. I have told you of stories, usually to my embarrassment of Sam telling it how he sees it. These days he is learning to express himself even more clearly. Just the other day I had a morning out getting a new hair color and a cut. I needed the new "do" but really needed a break from my kids. I got home just as Sam was heading upstairs to bed. Secretly I was happy about arriving at this time, knowing I would have another few kid free hours. Sam came down the stairs to see my new coif, he gave me a hug and kiss and whispered in my ear "Mommy, you look like beautiful like a horse running through a pasture". I smiled and told my husband I wasn't sure what kind of compliment that was, all I processed was that I looked like a horse. As the clock ticks I feel a little long in the face, but couldn't believe that my 2 year old saw the resemblance too! Erik responded that for Sam, that was just about the prettiest thing he could conger up. Hmmmm, then the image of a graceful palomino galloping through a green meadow popped up and I realized I have succeeded in training my kid. Really, I think he is equipped with some of the most valuable skills he will need in life. Being able to schmooze up (brown nosing I think we call it) will help him to get what he wants (from me at least). Since then Sam has come up with a few other doozies, the nicest being that I am like a chocolate chip cookie with many many chocolate chips in it!!!

We have had a great summer filled with so much fun with the kids. My Sam is growing up and becoming more and more independent. I think he is just the perfect age right now, he is big enough to do some things on his own and small enough to love to cuddle and be held. The other night we were reading stories in my new King size bed before bed time. His little hand was holding mine while we read a story, when we were finished we were chatting about our new bed and I told him it was soo big that if we slept there together we wouldn't have to touch at all. He thought about that for a minute then said "Well that's not very good because I like to feel you when we cuddle". Do I ever love that kid.

Birthdays

I just turned 25 for the 9^th time. My husband is a year younger than me AND he has been ID'd three times this summer. Celebrating birthdays (aka "aging") has never been my thing.

These days though I have nothing but birthdays on my mind. Both my husband and I just celebrated our mid thirties and both of my kids birthdays are coming up. Actually, Shiloh was due one year ago today.... I remember very clearly the agony I was in just one short year ago, begging that baby to leave my body alone!

Shiloh will be one next week, and Sam 3 next month. My baby years are officially over. I am trying hard to feel sorry for myself, well up some kind of sad feeling and wither myself into a big blue funk. Fortunately it hasn't happened. So far, for me my kids always seem "the perfect age". I remember when Sam was a baby; I would see moms with toddlers and feel secretly sorry for them that their baby was gone. But as Sam grows I forget (sadly) the little guy he once was and marvel at the little boy he is becoming. As Shiloh grows into a big baby I am so happy to get see her powerful personality that seemed to take awhile to shine in that smaller baby of 6 months ago.

Shiloh is just about the cutest, cuddliest, jolly hardy laughing baby I have ever known. She is headstrong, and thick skinned; both good qualities when you have a smartypants big brother trying to steal the spot light all the time. She is beautiful. Really, it is not just because she is mine, I really think the kid is something else (she also looks a lot like meJ...that is my big head floating around cyber space).

Everyday I find many reasons to celebrate who my kids are right at that moment. Today Shiloh spent 20 minutes putting her head inside a box and squealing with delight at the hollow darkness before she peaked out to do it all over again. Yesterday Sam pointed out Sheldon`s (the dog) ``big stiffy`` as he was pooping in the park. Embarrassing yes, but I will gladly take it when I also get days like today. Today Sam was sitting on top of my neighbours slide, there were about 4 kids waiting for him to go down the slide and a few parents standing around waiting for their kids turn. I was trying to get Sam to come down when he put his little hand up in the air and said ``Mommy, I just have something to say.........I just love you....(long pause) because I miss you a lot (I had been shopping for an hour) and I just love you when you are with me.`` How could I possibly wish he was any form of himself other than that one right thereÉ I am sure that all the other parents were wishing it was their kid talking to them like that.

So in the next few weeks Shi will graduate to not counting her life in months but in years, and Sam will be 3, which according to him is big enough to do just about anything.

These are the `days of our lives` and they are pretty great!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back

After all the support and kind words I have received from those of you who liked to read about the good, bad and ugly bits of Gitter life I have decided to reactivate my blog. So, get yourself a morning coffee, and a few minutes of piece and join me. (I usually hide behind a locked bathroom door.....my kids will grow up thinking I have some serious gastrointestinal issues coupled with a bad bladder infection, but the few minutes of solitude are well worth it).

So you might think that after 2 months of silence I would be brimming with stories to tell, not so much. It has been a very busy, but fun summer. We spent a week at a cottage, followed by a week camping with the kids and the cousins. The cottage was great...the camping not so much. I have seen people camping with kids before; I am not sure which cult they belonged to. My Shi is now 11 months old and crawling very well. Taking her to a 60X40 ft dirt area, brimmed by 6ft of poison ivy on all sides perhaps not such a smart idea. Shiloh was really dirty about 2.5 minutes after we got there, she had eaten at least 2 stones, a beer bottle cap (from the fire pit she was playing in) and the odd left over morsel of food with a cigarette butt chaser. No wonder she wouldn`t stay in her seat for dinner that night.

My girl loved the dirt, almost as much as she loved the mud pools we made for her by the lake. She was content to be dirty, have black fingernails, and a particularly great area around her ears and neck where she drooled her milk while she slept, the dirt stuck to these parts really well. She couldn`t have cared less. I tried to be easy going about it. I cut off a pair of Sam`s s old splash pants so she could muck about around the camp site without getting to gross. It seemed like the perfect solution. Then the bugs came out, I was wielding a Costco sized can of bug repellent and dutifully spayed my kids clothes. The pants melted to her legs. What a nightmare.

The bugs loved eating my kids faces. Sam was afraid of the after bite cream and poor Shi was too young to swat them away. We went home when they both had +15bites on their wee faces. Actually, we went home a day early. The last night as I slept with one eye opened, I wondered why Sam was curled up in the corner of the tent. So I got up to get him and tuck him back into his sleeping bag. He woke to tell me that he was too hot and sweaty...hmmm, I had a sweater on and was still cool. Sam had peed the bag! He was wet from his socks to his caller. I stripped him down, gave him my sleeping bag and then noticed that we were all slipping around in a layer of pee, nice. Shiloh woke with all the commotion and could not be persuaded to go back to sleep, so after 30minutes of clean up at 5:15am I headed out with Shi. I knew I couldn`t stay in the camp site for fear of waking everyone up and being breakfast for a million hungry bugs, so off we went to the water. I walked her back and forth the water front until around 6:20am when she finally fell asleep. I waited in a semi-conscience state on a big rock, for the rest of the camp to wake up, Sam and his dad finally came for us around 7:30am, the coffee was made thank God!

The sleeping pads where covered in pee, my sleeping bag and Sam`s. Ahhhh the smell. I couldn`t do it anymore. After 5 nights we packed it in and came home.

I used to be an avid camper, Gitter and I would spend summers in Algonquin canoeing and portaging. Then I couldn`t imagine the confines of car camping. Now, looking back at it, I am really glad that we went. I have packed away the camping gear for the year and started saving for that cottage. I am sure I will like camping again one day, but camping with 4 kids and a baby is at least one baby too many, and quite possibly 4 kids too many as well!!!! I look forward to a cottage with a Bunkie for the kids. Hopefully I won`t be too tired come bed time that I can`t enjoy a drink or 6.

copy cat

The other day I found myself shouting at Sam to "STOP SCREAMING AT ME". It is at this point that I had to take a deep breath and realize whose behaviour it was that my kid was modelling. There is no doubt about the impact our actions, attitudes and mannerisms have on our kids. I have read that the single largest influence on a child is their same sex parent. My husband and I have talked before about what a great responsibility this is, and certainly how knowing the influence you have helps you to be a better person. I have also read before that you should never marry someone if they have qualities you wouldn't want to see in your kids. Sam looks just like me, but boy he wants to be just like his daddy.

When I was pregnant with Sam, the first thing Erik bought was a ball. He had big ideas about the passion he would instil for all things game. Sam could sit and "play ball" long before he could do anything else. There are at least 20 balls in my house; each one has its purpose. I know this because I often "hide" them hoping they will not notice, I make a pact that if the ball is MIA unnoticed for a few days it will secretly make its way to the garbage...this has never happened.

I take Sam to watch his dad play basketball every week. He loves it and wants to do everything that the big men do. I have caught him wiping the sweat (in his case it is likely a boogieJ) off of his face on his shirt. The other day I bought Sam a treat...two pair of basketball shorts with matching "muscle" shirts, just like the big men wear. Unfortunately I didn't anticipate the impact this would have. Sam is soo happy. He tells me every day, right before he demands to wear his basket ball outfit. It has been 6 days, he has yet to wear anything else. The kicker is that when he sees his dad play ball, all the "big men" are wearing socks. Sam MUST wear socks too, long white socks pulled up to his knees. I have to plead and beg and promise to bring the socks with us to get him to leave the house without him.

As I mentioned, I bought him TWO outfits. This was working out well, as we alternated each day. But then Sam realized something, his daddy often changed outfits when playing basketball, a light shirt for a dark shirt kindof thing. Well, Sam now wants to switch teams periodically during the day. Blue for red, red for blue. Is this a battle worth fighting....not likely. So, should you see a 2 year old in the park with basketball shorts to below his knees, socks pulled up past his knees, a muscle shirt and his hat on backwards, please know this is not my idea of trendy dressing. And should that two year old start to strip down, and change his colors, please know he is just switching teams and in his eyes he is just like his daddy and all the other "big" men out there.

truth be told

I have a lot of things to do...the laundry...the bed...the dinner...the bills...etc. Today, however is officially my last day of mat leave. I start back to work on Monday, but am going in tomorrow to get reacquainted with the place. So, now that I have put both my beauties down for their naps and the house is quiet I am thinking about taking a few minutes to myself to breath. in and out in and out.

I am going to lay it all out, I feel like I need a release. Today I am feeling better, yesterday was possibly one of the saddest days I have had in a long long time. Some would say sad for no reason, but I am finding reason enough. I am flip flopping from feeling incredibly sorry for myself that I have to go back to work, and incredibly guilty and sorry for my baby who seems to have a bad case of mommyitis.

The former was certainly winning out yesterday. Why am I so sad about going back to work? Well, it has nothing to do with the work part, I haven't even really thought about the actual job. I am just so sad about leaving Shiloh. I went back to work when Sam was a year, and I certainly knew I was going to miss him, but I didn't feel this heaviness. I can only guess as to why, but I think I felt I had my time with Sam. With Shiloh it seemed it took an awfully long time to really get to know her, to fall madly deeply in love with her. I would say about six months. I guess I was just busy looking after a toddler and managing on very little sleep that I just went through the motions. Now she is 9 months old, and just about the cutest thing I have ever seen. Her eyes light up when you talk to her, she dances back and forth when you sing, and claps, waves and plays peek a boo to get your attention. She has a low little voice, and when she babbles "ma-ma-ma-ma-mama" it's the best feeling. With Sam I had this connection from the first week he was born, but I also had all day to stare at him and touch him. Now it seems we have just gotten there with Shiloh, she is sleeping better I believe b/c she has a better connection. I could go on and on about all the great parts about my kid and the things I am going to miss, but mostly it is just being with her. Also, I look at Sam and can't remember him as a baby and I know that before I know it Shiloh will be growing up and it is very likely that again, I will not remember her, as she is now...

The curse of motherhood guilt I have talked of before. I am hoping this will pass, as Shiloh becomes accustomed to being away and manages better. Right now she is a happy little girl. She sleeps well through the day and only cries when she is really in need of something. When I leave her it seems she cries from the moment I leave, and I return to a horribly exhausted looking child and an equally exhausted looking care giver. What mother wouldn't feel guilty for putting their kids through that? If I thought it would take just a few days and she would get over it I wouldn't feel so bad but my girl has staying power. Remember the one who woke up 4-6 times a night for a good 7-8 months? I am thinking she will finally start calming down about week 4 and then we will almost be done.

Husbands I am sure do not understand this feeling, after all they leave their kids everyday to go to work...so what is my problem? I don't have an answer to that except to say that we are wired differently. Don't misunderstand that I yearn to be a stay at home mom permanently; I have no desire to do that. I recognize that I need some outlets outside my kids. Shiloh has just started to be such fun to be around.

So, to all those people who have asked "are you excited about going back to work" just know that when I say no I would really like to be telling you where to stick it.

waddle or something else….

This one needs little preamble…..

Act one

Location: I am sitting in our very tiny downstairs bathroom, while Shiloh tries to hurdle herself over me to reach the ultimate goal….the toilet. Sam is sitting on his potty, pleading for a once upon a time story.

Sam: Mommy what this is? (Grabbing his "goods" as he sits on the potty)

Me: THAT is your scrotum and THAT is you penis.

Sam: hmm (as he pees all over my wall for the millionth time)

 

Act two

Location: In line at the grocery store…(I am going to stop taking him shopping with me)

Sam: (pointing to a small ancient lady in line behind us in the express isle) Mommy, why that lady have a srotum on her chin?

Me: shade of scarlet, swallowed my tongue…speechless….

 

the score:

Sam 10 at least

Mommy zip

Objects in the Review Mirror

I know this blog is supposed to be about my kids....but I am blaming this one on my kids, so in essence it is about them.

My husband is worried about my "baby brain". Let's be honest, I never was the quickest cat in the box, but two babies in just as many years and sometimes I would swear my brain had been replaced with cottage cheese. I have so many stories of dumbness I am not sure where to start. I'll just let you in on last week's dozies and I am sure you will get how dire the situation is.

Brain Fart 1

Last week marked Shiloh's 9 month of life. For both Sam and Shiloh I have celebrated their first years monthly birthday with a picture of them holding a sign saying "look at me, I am ___ months old today.." and then I write the days date on the bottom of the sign, and update on what the kids is up to, like I have one tooth kind of thing. Well last week I knew it was Shiloh's birthday but never go around to taking the picture, I told everyone that it was here 9 month birthday and I had full intention of taking a picture the next day. Well, today I got the sign out (I reuse the same sign every month just update what it says) and there was last month's date..April 11^th....hmmm that is interesting, I was celebrating on the 13^th....How do you suppose the Duggers can do it when I apparently cannot keep the dates straight between my two kidsÉ

Brain Fart 2

On Thursday of last week I headed out after dinner to watch my husband play basket ball. When I got to bball I could not find Shi`s bottle anywhere. I had made it and I knew I had brought it out of the house...this wouldn`t be so much of an issue except my picky daughter will only drink out of one of the million or so bottles we have around the house....not to fret though as when I drove down the road on my way home there was my babies bottle, mid road covered in mud but otherwise unharmed.

Brain Fart 3...and counting

The next day I had a busy one we were going out for the whole day and most of the night. Packing for two small kids I think I had 3 bags, 2 strollers one sling....27 diapers...you get the picture. I also had my black book, my lifeline. This black book keeps me in touch with all my friends, helps me to remember when to pay my bills and thankfully reminds me of my family members' birthdays. It is important to my mental health. When I got to my destination, my black book was not in the car or one of the three bags I had brought along. I figured I left it at home. When I returned that night after 10pm there was a msg on my machine from a guy about 10 minutes down the highway from my house. He had rescued my black book from the middle of the road as it flew off the roof of my car.

I figure I currently have the brain capacity of my 9 month old daughter...but she is gaining on me.

Don’t Bump the GRUMP!!! (and other stories from the Gitter House)

Seriously, I don't know what has happened to me, but am I ever pissed off. Sorry for the profanity, but that is the only way to describe it, actually a few more expletives would greater describe it….but I am trying to tone it down.

I don't know whether it is hormones, stress at the prospect of returning to work in two weeks, or just plain irritation but man you do not want to be in my company these days.

Yesterday Sam asked me about 10 times why I was mad at him, before finally delving into a mood to match my own. It seems every time Shiloh looks at me and says "mama" in that sweet little low voice of hers she is really saying "hey b$@&H, why are you leaving me, you must not love me….boy are you going to pay for this".

GUILT, it is the motherhood curse. Guilt because we don't spend enough time with our kids, guilt b/c we have spent too much time playing and not enough time cleaning, guilt b/c we need our husbands help in a way our mothers never did, guilt because we don't make enough money and now guilt because we choose to go back to work and make money instead of spending time with our babies. Yikes, this is pretty heavy isn't it? Well, no shit it is on my shoulders and it feels like a small house.

Well, I have found a solution to the funk I am in. I bought myself a new, rather large bottle of Kahlua, 4L of milk and I know there is some vodka in the cupboard. Today, I am too busy to pay proper attention to the bottle of Kahlua. But tomorrow….ahhh tomorrow I have big plans for that bottle. Just talking about it seems like a small part of that heavy house has lifted off my shoulders.

Ahhhh, who needs a shrink when you have a bottle of booze? Here is to no more "no good very bad days".

Cheers to that!

First Friends

Sam is two and a half. He is desperately seeking friendship with anyone who will give him attention. He is great friends with Johnny. Johnny often does naughty things though and my Sam is left wondering how long he must sit in the corner. Johnny also calls my house. The phone may ring no short of 15 times in the morning. Sometimes Sam talks to Johnny and sometimes I do. Johnny is also blamed for some accidents around the house. This morning Erik trekked dirt in after uprooting a tree for me. Sam was convinced it was Johnny and we had to call him and scold him. Johnny also peed on the bathroom wall today. A few days ago Sam was crying because Johnny was stuck in the mud. I have never met Johnny (neither has my son). He is a figment of Sam's imagination.

Most of Sam's "friends" are cousins that he deeply adores, his baby sister who he calls his best friend or babies Shiloh's age that we hang out with at play group. He does have one real friendship. Ella. Ella is the same age as Sam, and they have known each other since they were babies. Up until recently, play dates with Ella were for the sake of Ella's mom and I having a visit. Sam and Ella would play in the same room but not really together. In the last 6 months something has happened and my son has made a real friend. Watching Sam and Ella play is one of my favourite things to do. They have different interests and different paces (Ella never stops running and Sam is a slower kind of kid). They have to negotiate what and where they will play, and who will eat what at snack time. The neat thing about Sam and Ella is that they always figure things out on their own. One will grab the others hand and guide them towards their next destination. They never fight, and they always hug and kiss goodbye. The development of this friendship is one of the neatest things I have seen evolve. Sadly, Ella does not live close by so we see her only once a week. Today when I put Sam down for a nap, he asked to give thanks for something (a tradition we started a while ago) and he came out with "playing and running and swinging with Ella...I wish I could play with her everyday mommy". My heart broke a little bit.

Now that Sam knows the joys of playing with a real friend, he is often left longing for one. If we go to the park, he will ask "but who will be my friend mommy?" Or god forbid, if Ella doesn't come to play group he will cry because he "has no friends".

Yesterday a boy appeared in our back yard and played with Sam for over an hour. Sam was so delighted, I could hear him squealing and giggling and repeating everything this boy said. It turns out the kid was 6 years old and had had a fight with his brothers so was looking for anyone else to play with, or just a place to hide. Sam has been asking all day "where my friend go?" Again, my heart breaks.

I am stuck wishing there was a local catalogue where I could order up 2 of the cutest local 2 year olds to come over and complete the 3 amigos with my kid.

A shout out to moms

Tomorrow will be my 3^rd Mothers Day. Since becoming a mom I have become more appreciative of the crap I put my own mom through. Sadly, my mom had to wait 31 years for me to conceive so I could finally realize how much she must love me and in turn how much I appreciate her. My kids are still young, but I assume your love for your kids doesn't diminish with time, I certainly hope not. The thing that keeps me awake some nights is that I am pretty sure my kids are as in love with me now as they will ever be, at least until that have kids of their own. It is likely that their love...infatuation...trust....for me will gradually decrease each year until they hit puberty at which point it will plunge and stay at sub zero levels until they finally reproduce and fall in love with their own children. I will likely be 65.

Somehow I know that my children will blame me for all the ways I didn't provide for them, the things I didn't buy them and the parties I didn't let them attend. I am not sure they will blame their dad. It seems to be a common phenomenon that kids remember limits their mothers have saddled them with and the strength their fathers have provided. I have said before that my Sam is a mama's boy, Shiloh is 8 months old and nursing so it is pretty clear where her bread is buttered. Sometimes I feel sorry for Erik, knowing that I have my kids wrapped right now....but I am sure that that will all change sometime after age 5.

As I grow older I hear my mom's voice in my own more and more and I no longer cringe. I look at what she did for my brother and I when we were kids and I hope I can give even half that much to my own kids. Every day I need Erik's help, and I realize how my mom did it all by herself: the driving, the cooking, the cleaning, the worrying....all of it.

As we celebrate Mothers Day tomorrow remember your mom not just with a card and plant but a heartfelt thank you for the love and life she has given you and the things she unquestionably gave up for you along the way.

To all those not drinking out of a Sippy cup....I say bottoms up, Cheers to MOM!

My kids love....

Sam loves...

• to wear his work gloves for working, for soccer, football and any other sport
  
• to build horsie gates and feed the bulls and cows
  
• to play hockey with the red stick
  
• basketball but only if you stand up
  
• bedtime stories
  
• the colours pink and red
  
• pinching....(his word for punching....what seeing an UFC commercial will do to a kid)
  
• green blankie (this should be number one)
  
• peeing outside
  
• Ella
  
• once upon a time stories
  
• singing Christmas songs all year long
  

 
Shiloh loves...

• chewing on her pink shoes
  
• chewing on the strings of my hoodie
  
• cuddling around 3am
  
• the mirror in the car
  
• signing "all done" and clapping
  
• giving kisses
  
• zurberting the leather furniture to make loud farting noises
  
• bath time
  

 
I love....

• my family :)
  

 

Gender Games

My name is Billie, after my dad. Growing up I got my fare share of people who thought I was, or should be a boy. From time to time we get mail to Mr. and Mr. Gitter. Perhaps that is why I am a little sensitive when it comes to people mixing up my kids' gender.

Regardless of how a kid looks you would think that gender specific clothes would help identify whether your kids is a he or a she. To me, my Sam looks like a boy, has boy mannerisms and most days can be found wearing some sort of football/ basketball/baseball shirt and cap combo. Why is it then that I seem to be getting more and more "she is soo pretty" and "what is her name?". I actually had one lady last week tell me how cute she was when referring to Sam and then asked Sam what his baby brothers name was. I believe Shiloh has one red shirt and one blue one; other than that they are all pink. She has 3-4 pink coats and at least that many pink shoes and almost always wears a barrette in her hair. There must be a lot of color blind old folks out there to justify the number who call her a he. I get that if we strip a bunch of 8 month olds down to their diapers it might be difficult to tell the he's from the she's, but I take my kids out fully clothed.

I have zero qualms if someday my kids want to decide that they really belong to the opposite gender. But for now, lets' not freak a little boy out by referring to him as a girl. Blue hat with shark, green football sweater, long red shorts and running shoes....most times means boy.

PS. Just so you know, my bright, funny little boy corrected the old lady by telling her that "I not a girl, I have a penis". Good for you Sam!!!

Bring back the rock...

While my son truly is a mama's boy, if you spend a few minutes with our family you will quickly see who has the greatest influence over his behaviour. Dad. Sam mimics the way Erik stands, how his hands hold his head at the dinner table, unfortunately how he dances and last but certainly not least how he talks. From sports throw downs to everyday lingo my kid is picking up all the "daddyisms".

Sam has announced in public that "he has to go lay a big turd" , nice. At least once a day he moons me. Erik has already been lamenting how Sam is ruining all his fun, as he has to give up all of his bad habits. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised with what he said to be in the grocery store check out.

Sam, Shiloh and I had made a trip into the city to shop, it had been a long day and his behaviour had been less than stellar. I had both him and Shi in the cart as we went through the checkout so I didn't have to chase him around. I was staring off into space, likely imagining the big class of wine I wanted to drink when I got home, when a little hand reached out honked my right breast and I heard my Sam say "Hey Babes!". I turned to look at him and ask him what he had just done but I was having considerable trouble keeping the smile off my face. The young man behind me thought it the funniest thing and Sam knew that he had a winner. I now have to be careful to stay at least 2 feet away to save myself from the honk. He has replaced mommy for babes....we are going to have to have a talk.

Amused

What is it that kids can be amused with a bucket of water for hours? I have a house full of toys, about 200 books and give Sam a bucket of water and free rein to water all my plants, mix the soil from my plants to make soup and then "wash" the deck and patio furniture...the kid is entertained for the day.

Shiloh's current toy of choice is some extra chain from a light fixture. It makes a great noise when smashed on the tile floor, is cool on the gums and easy to wrap her little fingers into. She also likes dog food, but not for entertainment.

I am beginning to think I should get into business making new kids toys.

Wrapped

I will start this post by reminding you of Sam's projectile poo from last week. Well, Shiloh caught that bug, the projectile poo led to projectile puking, which led to a horrible cough that kept everyone up night after night. So you might think I am writing this post to complain about my exhausted, unkempt state. Wrong.

Even though the last few days have proven to be some of the hardest in terms of no sleep (Shi managed about 3 hours the first night and 6 the second, none of them consecutive...) and having a 6am 2 year old wakeup call brought the longest part of the day. When is nap time again??? These last few days I have fallen in love with my kids all over again. Monday, after a horrible night that left Erik covered in vomit at 3am I packed the kids up and headed out to emerg. You might think it crazy that I spent 4 hours in a waiting room with a screaming baby and a toddler and came out with rejuvenated love, but I did. These are the moments that you expect to be the lowest of you parenting career, but my Sam came through with flying colors. Most toddlers when faced with being cooped up in a waiting room with only the few toys mommy packed in the morning, a snack that was consumed in the first 20min of being there and a mom with only $1 in her pocket and four vending machines with candy and drinks that all require at least $1.25 would be going bananas. Not my Sam. Shiloh had finally passed out in her stroller and Sam was sitting on my knee watching the 13inch TV with no volume. He reached his little arms up and put them around my neck, ahh the cuddle. It got better, after a few minutes he looked up at me, planted a soft little boy kiss on my cheek and followed that with a "I just love you mommy". My heart grew three sizes.

At 3am that next morning, I was walking Shiloh holding her upright trying to give her some reprieve from the constant hacking fits she was having. She was exhausted and so was I. She had stopped crying and was just groaning. Her little head was rested on my shoulder, and I could feel her hot breath on my neck. Shiloh was groaning but at the same time babbling "ma ma ma ma ma". I know she is only eight months and wasn't likely referring directly to me, but at that moment I didn't want to be anywhere else.

It's true that my kids have me wrapped, but even as I may try I cannot figure out what is wrong with that.

Product Review

My son was given a wonderful Christmas gift, a Little Tykes Kenmore Elite kitchen. I thought it was great, until today, Little Tykes is pissing me off.
I have two issues:
1. What do you think will happen when you give a kid a kitchen, with a sink and pots and pans....what will that kid want to do? Hopefully if he is normal, cook. What do you give toddlers to cook with? Water. Well, in my kitchen we have a water cooler because the water here tastes like toothpaste backwash. So Sam likes to help himself to his cooking water. Today he asked me if he could make me some coffee, to which I said yes. Well, he usually "makes" the water/coffee directly in the cup, but today he wanted to cook it on his stove in the pot that came with the Little Tyke Kitchen. Sam was busy stirring away his coffee while I was making lunch, when I turned around to walk to my daughter in her highchair when I went flying. Wet tiles are slippery, especially when you don't know they are wet and you are wearing rubber flipflops. Apparently Little tykes thought it would be a bright idea to put HOLES in the bottom of ALL of their containers. Bright move...which kids did they use for their market research I wonder....now my Sam is trying to plug the holes with glue, even better.
2. After the incident above I was on my hands and knees cleaning the water off the floor, Sam was now cooking in an empty pot at the stove. I heard a dog bark. I kept cleaning. Then I heard a door bell...(not my door bell). A few minutes later as I was tidying the living room I heard a baby crying, then in a high pitched baby voice I heard "feed me mommy, I'm hungry". Now Sam has taken to talking like a baby for attention in the last few weeks, so from the other room I scolded him for this behavior and carried on with my cleaning. A few minutes later there were more baby cries followed by a "clean my diaper mommy, I made a mess" which was very quickly followed by a "hug me.....tickle me.....kiss me..." then more crying. Into the kitchen I go, scold my two year old for acting like a baby to which he replies it was not him. Well, this leads me into a two minute long speech about what a lie is and blah blah blah...I turn my back to walk away and I hear "I made a poo poo". Gee, that really didn't sound like Sam, now I am confused. Well, Kenmore Elite no longer makes cooking sounds. It seems the water short circuited something and now my kids kitchen barks like a dog, cries because it's hungry and apparently has the shits.
WTF Kenmore Elite, seriously WTF!

Let the s*&^ fly

Poo, for the past few days it has seemed I am living in an ever growing stinking mass of POO. I have no idea what I did to them but my kids both have diarrhea. Yesterday, Sam managed a bathroom visit before playgroup, at play group and twice at the grocery store. We made it to the potty every time, not bad for a two and a half year old with a very bad case of the runs.
We went to the park for a picnic lunch and then home for nap time. Now thinking that Sam had just eaten I very intuitively put a diaper on him (he prefers to sleep naked as a jay bird for nap time). About 15 minutes into his lie down he called up that he had to use the bathroom, so off I ran. He produced and I was in the process of putting him back to bed when he said"me no need diaper mommy, I just made poo and pee..." this was the turning point in my day.
I threw caution to the wind and listened to the advice of my 2 year old.
What was i thinking....something like "whatever, just go to sleep and don't wake your sister..."

Anyhow I am sure you think you know where my story is going, you're right.
After putting Sam down for his nap again, I headed out to fetch in the groceries, admire my tullips, and yell at the dog for being a constant source of annoyance. After about 10 minutes I came inside to hear "mommy I need you, help MEEEEE".

I ran up the stairs and threw open the door (which I always close so Sam is not enticed to come out of his bed to see what I am up to...) and there stood my naked, blond little man covered in poo.
He was standing about a foot inside the door, his little hands stretched out both of them dripping with something the same hue as rotten pea soup. God bless him he had tried to "catch" the mess that was flying out of his behind. On the floor there was poo. A lot of poo. Liquid, green, smelly poo, about 2ft in diameter. My kids was crying, all the while saying "you mad mommy, it an accident".
The only person I was mad at was me, what an idiot. I locked a naked two year old with the scoots in his room after he had eaten and drank a gallon of milk, then I went outside. I deserved this mess, what the hell was I thinking.

After an hour of scrubbing the dog has found a new favorite place to sleep...I guess he likes that smell.

If you have any great ideas about how to get pee soup poo out of a beige carpet, please do pass them along.

Welcome to Spiked Milk

My kids are too cute and my memory too poor. A few months ago I decided to start writing things down, keeping an online journal of sorts so I created a blog. Up until know I didn't publish my postings, but I am thinking there may me a few mom's and dad's out there that might get a giggle or two from reading about my ups and downs of child rearing. So here it is, Spiked Milk is going public.

sleep deprivation

You might notice I posted that last story twice. This is a classic example of what MONTHS of sleep deprivation will do. I have been known to call my children by the wrong name (sometimes the name of the dog....) and unfortunately to repeat a story or two. Perhaps I should start every knew entry with..."Stop me if I told you this one before.."
Sorry for the repetition, but it was a good story.

gender issues

This little doozy happened to me last week.
Last Monday was a glorious day, the son was shining and it was about 18 degrees. Unlike most days I decided to just relax at home with my kids. No shopping, no playgroup, no car trips. By late morning we were all growing tired of being in the house so out for a long walk we went.
I strapped the kids into the double stroller, filled it full of toys for Shi and snacks and drinks for Sam, off we went.
Our walk took us downtown to see the water and eventually to one of my fav local stores, The Cheeky Monkey. My son loves this store for its kids play section st the back, I love it for the adorable clothes....(in essence we WERE shopping and play grouping it....so much for the day off). Anyhow, in walks a rather LARGE man, wearing a t-shirt and shorts. The t-shirt must have been last years model and he must have gained a few pounds over the winter. My Sam sees him walk in and says, "Mommy, that man a boy or a girl?"

Ok, embarrassing but there are worse things (which I was about to discover). I quietly said, "Sam, that is a man, a grown up boy". To which Sam replied, LOUDLY
"That man have a penis or a gyna?"

Fair enough, after all he is two. Everything in Sam's world needs to be classified as having either a penis or a vagina. So again, like a good mom I explained to my small son that he should know by now that Men have penis's and woman have vagina. My face was red, but not nearly as red as it was about to become.
I thought I had diverted his attention back to the toys, when suddenly my beautiful 2 year old stood back up, put his little hands on his hip, cocked his head to one side and announced to the store,
"Mommy, why that man have a penis AND big boobies?"

Open up earth and swallow me now. We left the store, I am not sure we will be going back.

Where is that rock???

I am looking for the biggest rock to hide my head under; it needs to be big so I can effectively hide the scarlet shade of my cheeks.

Sam has become an inquisitive two year old, and as most 2 year olds do, he asks lots of questions. Just yesterday we were enjoying a nice afternoon shopping session at a local children’s store. Not that I was getting any shopping done, you would think I would know better than to go shopping at 12pm when there has been no nap and no lunch, I would blame it on the kids but really...stupid stupid idea. Anyhow, there we were, for better or for worse. A new customer came into the store and my wee Sam comes over and quite honestly asks “that a man or a woman mommy?” This was one of the first times I wasn’t quite sure of my answer so I very quietly told him (hoping I was right) that the shopper was a man. Well, I probably should have whisked my toddler out of the store at that moment knowing there would be more questions to come. Like many toddlers Sam is into classifying just about anything into two categories: those with penises and those with gynas. So I might have known what his next question would be, “that man have a gyna mommy?”. Now the sales lady is cowering behind the register gleefully awaiting my response. “No Sam, you know men have penises and woman have VAginas” I quietly said. I thought I had gotten away with it, my son was quiet and seemed mercifully engaged with some toy horse, then he turned his little body around, put both hands on his hips and rather loudly exclaimed “Why that man have a penis AND BOOBIES?” Honest to god, let the Earth crack and swallow me now. I am sure all of you mothers out there are reliving my horror. To this I had no answer, the sales lady I am quite sure needed a new pair of undies as she was trying hard not to breakout giggling, she wouldn’t even make eye contact as I whisked my ever enquiring boy out the door. I don’t know if the man with the penis and big boobies bought anything, but I hope if he did the sales lady gave him a discount.

The five w's of toddler questions

I was excited when my child learned how to speak. I was really excited when I realized he could talk and express himself so clearly. My Sam talked for well over a year and never really got stuck in the question faze. I bragged that he was bright enough to know the answers tot he questions so he didn't bother to ask.....seriously, was I misguided. Who, what, where, when why why why start pretty much every sentence that comes out of his mouth. Sam not only asks questions, he rarely stops to hear the answers. His questions are so predictable that I can usually answer them before he asked them.
Why we going shopping
Because we need food
Why we need food
Because we have to make something for dinner
Why we have to make something for dinner
So we are not hungry
Why we not hungry
You get my point....you cannot out answer a toddler. My favorite question is....Where my house go? I cannot see my house, Where my house go mommy?...Sometimes he will repeat this questions 10plus times and I (the ever patient mother) will try hard to give him an explanation his little mind can understand...but I cannot win, he out asks me every time.
So, I have started to try to teach him what an appropriate question is. I have explained that the question "Where grandma's house go" does not make sense and that he should think about what he is asking. Well, once again my toddler has proven one that he really does listen to what I say and two, that all things come around (in my case rather quickly.
This morning while we were getting ready for the day I asked Sam what he wanted for breakfast (perhaps a good question, but the reality was there is usually no choice...miniwheats is the weekday breakfast of choice around here...) Sam answered. "why you ask me that question mommy, we always have cereal, no pancakes, no waffles, we eat cereal...(then there was a long pause, Sam looked up at me with his head cocked sideways and said quick frankly) that wasn't a good question mommy, think about is, just think about it first..."

To sleep or to drink....

My first child was a dream, he slept from an early age and I felt like I was a champion mother who just had the right touch. Now I feel like my touch is about to get out of hand if little Miss doesn't finally learn to sleep.
Is there anything more torturous than lack of sleep??? Seriously, I feel like I have on some really thick glasses, ear plugs and a vise grip around my cranium...and that is after the morning coffee and 2 Tylenol.
I guess the most evident clue that I am sleep deprived is my unjustified new found hate for all those moms out there whose babies sleep. Really, I hate them. They look pretty, they are on time and for some godforsaken reason they are always happy. Normally I am a pretty chipper person but right now my dog is cowering in the corner of the room, the blinds are all drawn, I have a mug of milk (spiked with Kahluah and vodka) and my kids "blankie" wrapped around my shoulders. Please let the sleep fairies take me.....take me for a long long time.
Last night little Miss was awake every 25minutes between 9pm-4:30am. I have begged for help, pleaded for it actually....now I have relented, I am going to pay for it....sleep doula here I come....give me back my sanity, or give me a bigger bottle of booze.

Welcome

I am fairly new to blogging. Recently I started my first blog . A blog for an online course I am taking. It has helped me to see that blogging can be fun. So, here I am. For two years now I have been procrastinating putting my kids photos in albums. I have hundreds, thousands actually and have no where to start. So I decided to abandon that avenue and start blogging about my kids. They are so cute, and my toddler Sam says the darnedest things. the problem is, that I like so many before me have mommy brain and can only remember these for a few fleeting moments. So, I have opened this site in honour of my two beautiful babies. It is here that I hope to tell the good and not so good details of our daily lives, so I can remember and hopefully someday they can see how much they are loved.

So, without further adieu, welcome to the Gitter family.