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.