Listen to Lena

Perfecting the Art of Conversuasion

Family

It’s Time to Have “The Talk”.

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My boys are only about a month shy of their 4th and 6th birthdays, so I’m a little surprised that it’s already time to have “the talk”.

Truthfully, I assumed I had at least a few more years. My sons are barely out of the toddler stages! I had convinced myself that the the dreaded conversation would take place sometime in the distant future, so I did little to prepare myself – I gave it little thought and importance. Let the parents of tweens worry about it, I thought, I’m still PVR’ing Disney Junior shows!

But it happened. It happened and I was caught off-guard; silently cursing the acceleration of childhood. And it happened at the most inopportune moment; I was flustered, disorganized and trying to accomplish about a thousand things at once, and there stood Ryder, hovering in my doorway. I could tell he wanted to ask me something, and I turned to him, my face dripping with annoyance and expectation. “What is it?” I snapped.

If I had known this would be the pivotal moment, the moment I had both feared and dreaded would come eventually (but not now!), I would have been better prepared. I would have had all my key points of love, nurturing and most of all, quiet authority and instruction, ready to dole out with calm, maternal intelligence. I would have called out to my husband, who, as the man of the family, would’ve been able to delve from his own experience.

Yet my perfect vision of “the talk” crumbled at my feet when out of mouth of my sweet, young and naive son, the dreaded words flowed: “Can we get a dog?” Unprepared, I blurted out an unintelligent, garbled response that only the most practiced ears would understand and interpret as no f*cking way.

So, my friends, the hour is upon us and it’s time to have the “No Dogs Talk”. As an aside, I blame my best friend for the premature timing of the discussion, as she recently acquired the most adorable puppy I’ve laid eyes on and I’ve been showing the boys his photos. So I suppose I’ve had a hand in this debacle after all, and now it’s time to set the record straight. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand firm – and that troubles me. In fact, my husband is fairly convinced I’ll eventually give in. But for the time being, I will only take care of two babies, dammit.

Do you have pets? Were you convinced by your children – or, as a child, did you convince your parents? 

Beauty, Captured on Paper.

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There are few things in life that blow me away. And friends, I am blown away.

It all started a couple of weeks ago, when a friend mentioned that she had decided to follow her dreams and open an art studio – Karly Marie Custom Portraits. Always one to promote happiness, I was proud of her decision and wished her good luck.

“Let me create a custom portrait for you,” Karly said.

Sure, I thought. Why not? But life is busy, and to tell the truth, as much as I wanted to help out, I didn’t make it a priority. So I sent her the following Instagram picture, asking, “Can you work with this?”

You see, I love this picture. It was taken while both boys were sick – and yet, still managed to get into all sorts of mischief. I often smile when I think back to that day, as they wiped their noses on each other’s arms and giggled with gross delight. (Boys, right??)

Of course, as soon as I sent the screenshot, I promptly forgot about it. I knew it was in good hands, but really – what would come of an electronic photo? I knew nothing of what Karly could do or what the finished product would look like.

And then, I received a message that the portrait was complete. And as I gazed at the charcoal drawing of my two boys, I promptly burst into tears. Nothing could have prepared me for the beauty that Karly captured on paper.

I am blown away by Karly’s talent – and her gift for making subjects come alive. The sweet shyness in Ryder’s eyes. The mischief in Reid’s smile. And together, two brothers bonded together in a loving embrace. It is a portrait I will always treasure; one that will remind me of a cold winter afternoon with my two boys.

Friends, this is probably the most special gift you can give a loved one. Karly creates hand-drawn, custom portraits that make the perfect present for anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, weddings, or bridal showers. These artistic impressions can preserve the memories of a newborn child, beloved pets, special occasions, or even a cottage, home or vacation destination.

(Check out her Portrait Gallery here.)

Her rates are incredibly reasonable and for Listen to Lena friends and family, she is pleased to offer 15% off. (E-mail me for the coupon code: lena (at) listentolena (dot) com.) I encourage you to think about Mother’s Day, upcoming celebrations or other special occasions where you can give a truly unique, beautiful gift that will be treasured always. I am 100% convinced of Karly’s talent and am in love with the custom portrait.

Tell me, do you have a photograph you’d love to turn into a portrait? Be sure to contact Karly today! 

Because I Have a Little Artist.

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Sometimes, as I look around my home, I am dismayed by the clutter produced by toys, gadgets and gizmos. I often joke with my husband that we have special sight filters that allow us to ignore the mess; thicker soles due to the torture of repeatedly stepping on errant cars, and stronger ab muscles from bending over 172 times per day to pick up a stray pencil crayon, a runaway Cheerio, or the dreaded, crumpled, discarded used tissue.

For a long time, I simply allowed myself to believe that kids will take over the home and there’s nothing that can be done about it. But then I realized that as my boys grew, they began to crave a space of their own. Slowly, the basement became a place to engage in imaginative play. Ryder’s bedroom became his corner nook to enjoy a good book. And Reid always, always wanted to be in the kitchen when he was in the mood for arts and crafts. Hence, when we received the Little Tikes I’m an Artist Station for review, I knew it would quickly become a family favourite.

“This uniquely designed, multi-functional art station features a cover for the table that doubles as a portable drawing surface. It even lights up for tracing. Little Tikes smart design gives I’m An Artist Station plenty of storage cubbies and a convenient place for hanging wet artwork and displaying the finished creation.”

Features:

Splatter table spins paper and paint. Includes splatter guard to minimize any mess.
Table cover converts to portable drawing table that lights up for tracing.
Convenient clip rack where artwork can hang up to dry and then be displayed.
Multiple spaces for storing art supplies. Sturdy stool and 4 paints included….

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Reid and Ariel… United At Last!

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It’s been a while since I chatted about my little guy’s obsession with Ariel from The Little Mermaid. In truth, at one time, it was all “Ariel this” and “Ariel that”, but recently, he’s been otherwise distracted. Which is actually a good thing, because it’s allowed the months to fly by in anticipation of October 1st,  when Disney’s The Little Mermaid: Diamond Edition will splash into homes for the very first time in Blu-ray Hi Def.

And we can’t wait to get our hands on the movie! Bonus features include an All-New Music Video, Part of Her World: Jodi Benson’s Voyage To New Fantasyland, Deleted Characters and more. Translation: Reid will soon be reunited with his lady love! That’s almost as exciting as finding a “banded, bulbous snarfblatt” :)

Last month, you may have noticed that I chatted about programming on Disney Junior. Well, I’m proud to announce that I’ve joined the #DisneyJuniorMom program for the remainder of 2013. It’s a great group of bloggers and made total sense for me as: a) my boys are Disney fanatics, and b) we love a good cartoon or two (or ten).

Of course, it’s even more wonderful that my very first communication is centered around the The Little Mermaid – here’s some amazing news for fans of all ages!

First, in anticipation of the Blu-ray Hi Def release, Disney Junior is giving a lucky viewer the chance to win a round-trip to Toronto to experience Canada’s Private Red Carpet Screening of The Little Mermaid, complete with an Under the Sea Adventure experience at the TIFF Bell Lightbox for the little one before the show. Can I get a “Whoa… Dinglehopper!”

The winning family will be flown to Toronto to enjoy the event, along with a 2-night hotel stay, transportation and $1,000 in spending money.  Plus, children will receive a special gift as well. Click here for the grand prize details.

So, the truth is, I’ve kind of been entering every day. Fingers and toes are crossed! And if the contest isn’t your cup of tea, I won’t be mad if you enter every day, happen to win, and then defer your prize to me. Oops! Did I just suggest that out loud?

Okay, so my second tidbit of Mermaid news is just as awesome for little ones – the series is coming back exclusively to Disney Junior, weekdays at 8pm ET starting Monday, September 16th! OMG. The Little Mermaid on demand? I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Other news for Disney Junior:

  • The Doc is in, with new episodes of Doc McStuffins premiering Sundays at 11am ET, starting September 15th.
  • Justin and his imaginary pals, Olive and Squidgy, are back in the second season of Justin Time premiering Sundays at 8:30am ET, starting September 8th.

Well friends, it looks like the fall season is off to a fabulous start! 

 

I’m part of the Disney Junior Mom program and I receive special perks as part of my affiliation with this group.
The opinions on this blog are my own.

ROAR! Imaginext Monsters University Scare Factory

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Attention Scarers…. there’s a new monster in town: Monster Reid. And he’s here to collect screams from little kids all ’round the world. Better watch out! He packs quite a roar. After all, he’s learned from the best – the scariest monster ever – the one and only Sulley. Introducing the Imaginext Monsters University Scare Factory.

Do your kiddos love Monsters Inc. and Monsters University? Then they’ll adore this playset, which includes Mike, Sulley, 3 doors, 2 canisters, 3 pieces of mail, mail cart, garbage can and broom – essentially, everything you need to recreate the scare floor! Fisher-Price, you’ve done it again :)

Experience what a day with Mike and Sulley would be like at the Scare Factory. Visit the mail room and help sort packages; go to the Scare floor to operate the doors moving through the factory. Place a scare canister on the holder, rotate the disk and watch it fill…

The boys love their playset and have an amazing time immersing themselves in pretend play. If I had but one complaint – there are a LOT of little pieces (mail, canisters, etc) and they tend to get lost and show up in the strangest places. Hence, don’t be surprised if you find a small, plastic broom between your couch cushions.

The set retails for $44.97 and can be purchased at popular toy retailers across Canada.

Now if you’ll excuse me – I’m off to collect the little children’s screams. ROAR!

 

I receive perks as a part of my affiliation with the Fisher-Price Ambassador program with Mom Central Canada.
The opinions in this blog are my own.

The Cars Dream Room

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Eight days. Eight days until my little guy returns to school; eight days before another year of bagged lunches, squeaky running shoes and gooey hair gel.

However, the anxiety starts now.

You may remember an earlier post where I shared that Ryder, my sweet little 5-year old, has selective mutism – an anxiety disorder. To make a long story short, in social situations where Ryder does not feel comfortable, he simply does not speak. In fact, in his entire first year of school, he only spoke a couple of times.

We have coping techniques; ways to help draw him out of his shell. And for the most part, they’re helping. But we can’t control his anxiety, nor can we write it off as inconsequential. He has a real aversion to social situations and we have a really difficult time watching as he withdraws into what we call “the Ryder zone”.

So, with the onset of school just around the corner, things are changing. Ryder stops is his tracks when he hears “Back to School” commercials. He asks on a daily basis, “Is there school today?” And when I say “No, but soon…” he stares off into space, no doubt thinking of a gazillion ways to psyche himself out.

I wanted to do something special for him. Something positive that he could associate with back to school; something to give him comfort and reassurance. And I just knew that I wanted it to somehow involve Disney Cars – it’s no secret that both boys are obsessed with them, and for Ryder, they represent confidence and fearlessness.

Then it came to me – a bedroom makeover! Of course – what better way to start off the school year right than to recreate his bedroom – his safe place – into one that reflects his love of Cars and life in the (G-rated) fast lane?

And I knew just where to go to make it happen – Walmart, of course! They have absolutely everything you need for back to school, back to campus, and even back to sanity (which is what I’m looking forward to once the boys are separated for a few hours each day). Plus, they have a fantastic selection of Disney Cars merchandise for your little race fans.

Now, y’all know that I’m pretty obsessed with Walmart, and have been an avid Sunday morning shopper for oh, the last 15 years or so. And, like so many friends and family, I constantly fall victim to the “Walmart Rule of 60”; that is, you walk in to buy one thing,  and you end up spending $60. (Read: How to Spend $169.22 on Three Bags of Milk)

The good news? Being an avid shopper, and an avid supporter, has allowed me to build a fabulous relationship with the brand. Hence, when I politely requested a $200 Gift Card to makeover Ryder’s room, they happily obliged. (Thank you Walmart!)

And you know what? While I came very close to spending my budget, I definitely didn’t go over. So…. are you ready to see how you can take a room from cutesy to KA-CHOW! for less than two bills? It’s time for a good old fashioned before and after!

BEFORE

Ryder’s bedroom was last made over as part of my “Renocation” in 2011. With the exception of the toddler bed being swapped for a double bed, the room was essentially the same. So for all intents and purposes, here are the “before” pictures:

…

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A Mom by Any Other Name…

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*EDIT – JULY 1st, 2013*

Sometimes, I’ll look back on an old post that I published years ago, and chuckle to myself – thinking about the “problems” I once faced. In this instance, I was going through a phase (a terribly long one, mind you) where Ryder referred to me by my first name. Yes, it bothered me. Enough to write a blog post! He called me “Lena” for much longer than was tolerable, and at one point, it really, really hurt me.

But just like that, he grew out of it… and has called me “Mommy” ever since. Often hundreds of times per day – in a raspy, whiny voice that from time to time, grates at my nerves. “Mommy, Mommy, MOMMY!”

(However, I won’t complain. I’ve earned my title, and I cherish every single “Mommy” that leaves his sweet mouth.)

And so, won’t you take a trip down memory lane with with me? This blog post was originally published on September 6, 2011 – so Ryder would have been just about 3.5 years old; his little brother, 1.5 years old. Is it strange that I have a hard time remembering this phase? I fear that life is speeding by way too quickly. Sigh.

Readers, I have a problem.

Now I suppose I should toss out a quick disclaimer: I have my health, my kids are well fed, and for the moment, we do have a roof over our heads. So in the grand scheme of things, perhaps it isn’t a biggie.

An inconvenience? A concern? Regardless.

Ryder calls me “Lena”. And I can’t get him to stop.

I know, I know, I know it shouldn’t bother me. Not much, anyways. Many friends and family members actually think it’s kind of cute. And for a while, even I thought it was rather enduring: Ha ha, my son calls me by my first name.

Now, it drives me crazy.

I’m not exactly sure why he prefers addressing me as “Lena” – after all, it hardly has an interesting ring to it, right? Let’s be real, it’s not “Desirée” or “Katerina” and furthermore, I spend the equivalent of 6 hours per day rambling off phrases such as “Give it to Mommy,” “Mommy said NO!” and “Come hold Mommy’s hand”… so… what the hell? And I AM his Mommy, right? I pick out his clothes, kiss his boo boos, cut his grapes in half and jump on Google for every symptom he’s ever had (or I’ve thought he’s had, which includes, but is not limited to, shingles, bee stings and leprosy).

So… what the hell?

It’s been getting worse, friends. Last week, while taking a Popsicle out of the freezer for him, he looked at me pointedly and said, “Don’t lick it, Lena. That’s MY Popsicle.” Sure, I can deal.

Later that day, I accidentally spilled milk all over the counter due to a milk bag malfunction.

“What the hell, Lena?” he observed. (Yes, it’s indeed horrible that those exact words came out his mouth, but I will be the first to admit that I burst out laughing when he said it. I think this Mommy needs to watch her own potty mouth.)

But my absolute breaking point was while we were in Gymboree last week. Sorting through some of their cute fall merchandise, a salesperson sidled up to me.

“He’s so cute!” she gushed.
“Thank you,” I crooned. “Do you like this top, Ryder?”
“I don’t like it Lena!” he screamed. “Let’s go home Lena. Want to play cars.”
“Oh!” the salesperson gushed. “Are you his nanny? Or an aunt?”

Great.

No, I’m his mother,” I retorted tersely.
“Ah, a stepmom. I thought so… I didn’t want to say, but I was trying to find the resemblance.”

B*tch….

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Put Education First: Monsters University

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I had been checking my mailbox for weeks; pacing back and forth, waiting for the mail carrier to arrive. Sometimes, I’d meet her down the street – impatiently inquiring if she had anything for me, my stomach twisting in knots as she ransacked her mailbag. After rooting around for what seemed like hours, she’d look up at me with a expression of pure pity, and say, “Not today, Lena.”

Crushed, I walked back to my house, wondering how I could make it through the next 24 hours. Surely it would arrive tomorrow.

I was waiting for a big package; one that would be bursting at the seams. I had pinned years of hopes and dreams on this; I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t function until I knew either way where fate would take me. I refused to be recklessly confident and yet I knew my chances were extraordinarily good… so, I waited.

And then, the very next day, it happened.

As I leaned against the mailbox for support, I caught sight of the mail carrier as she turned the corner. She had a glorious grin from ear-to-ear and in her hands, was clutching a thick, heavy package. As we made eye contact, I broke into a run, a little bloom of hope growing inside of me. Within seconds I pulled up short in front of her, gasping as I tried to catch my breath – “For me?”

“For you,” she replied with a smile, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

Grabbing the package, I tore it open right then and there. Inside, I found several forms, many little booklets, but it was the single sheet of paper at the very top that caught my eye:

Dear Lena,

You’ve Been Admitted to Monsters University. 

The Monsters University Admissions Office have asked us to extend an invitation for an exclusive “campus tour.” M.U. students Mike Wazowski, James P. Sullivan (plus more misfit monsters) invite you and your loved ones to see a sneak peek of Disney-Pixar’s “Monsters University” (@MonstersU) on Saturday afternoon, May 11 at the AMC Theatres at Downtown Disney! (If you want to scream now, it’s o.k…the monsters actually like it.) This sneak peek is compliments of our pals at Disney-Pixar (@DisneyPixar).

Sincerely,
Dean Hardscrabble

I couldn’t help it – I cried with relief. I had waited for this letter for four long years. Four years of hitting the books, churning out content, and late nights spent at the computer instead of hanging with friends and family. Four years of building my credentials, networking among peers, and making sure I always stayed true to myself and my followers. And now, it had finally paid off….

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A Good Ol’ Fashioned Before and After

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I think it’s quite apparent that I was made to be a mother of boys – every time my sons’ hair grows long enough to require any sort of grooming, I schlep them off to Melonhead to have their heads shaved fuzzy smooth.

(Don’t think I’d be able to do the same with little girls!)

Truly, I just can’t be bothered. And since both my little dudes sweat buckets, trust me, less is more.

And so today’s post is a good ol’ fashioned Before and After – featuring Ryder and Reid, and their newly shorn locks.

Et voila! I’m off the hook for any sort of grooming attention for at least the next three months. The boys love their new hairdos, and are ready for the heat! Bring on summer!

Reid and Ariel Sitting in a Tree…

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Six months ago, Disney’s The Little Mermaid was not on my radar.

I mean, why should it be? I have two young BOYS. Boys who like cars, and colouring pictures of cars, and making car engine noises, and sleeping with their cars… in car pajamas, of course. So while we are well equipped with Disney Cars movies, figurines and basically anything with a Lightning McQueen image emblazoned across the front, we did not own anything princess-y. At all.

Of course, that was before THIS happened – From my post “The Most Magical Place on Earth…”

As we walked along Fantasyland, little Reid kept telling us that he wanted to see the “beautiful fish”. Confused, we tried to find Dory from Finding Nemo, and then showed him pictures of Flounder. “No, no, no!” he cried. “I want the Bootiful Fish!” he said, pointing at Ariel’s Grotto. Ah! The Little Mermaid! We journeyed under the sea and stood in a short line to meet Reid’s new favourite character. Once inside, he became bashful; putting his head down and hiding behind me. It was so enduring! His first crush – on a Princess, no less! After a little coaxing he gave her a huge hug and then sat down beside her, grinning from ear to ear. (Ryder, who’s too cool for school, was also convinced to get in the picture, though he was decidedly less impressed.) Watching Reid blush, smile and flirt was definitely a tear-jerking moment – but can you blame me? My little boy is growing up!

Well, that was that. He fell hard for Princess Ariel and wanted everything to do with the world of The Little Mermaid. (I didn’t have the heart to tell him she was already taken.) In fact, at the Art of Animation’s gift shop, my husband and I were both surprised when he walked straight to the Ariel figurine and pointed – “Her.”

And that’s when it happened. The colossally bad move on my husband’s part….

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Happy Birthday Husband!

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It’s the most wonderful time of the year… Halloween is over, and Christmas preparations are in full swing!

(Not really, but I love eliciting upward eye rolls.)

And… it’s my husband’s birthday! For those of y’all counting, he’s officially waaay closer to 40 than 30, you know. Yup, I’m married to an old man.

I recently realized that I spend a lot of time gushing about how wonderful my boys are, but I rarely pay tribute to my husband. He’s just about the most affectionate person I’ve ever met (which is actually kind of stressful, being that I’m a non-PDA-please-don’t-touch-me-before-washing-your-hands kind of person), is smart, kind and funny, and he actually works two jobs – his day job, and his daycare job, taking care of the kids early morning and late night as I blog.

Here are some pictures of the man I love on our recent Royal Caribbean cruise (yes, Ryder IS a carbon copy of him):

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February 2, 2011

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For my boys:

One day, you will fight over whose turn it is on the Xbox (or whatever futuristic game station is relevant).
You will argue over who “needs” to borrow dad’s car immediately.
You will poke fun at each other, keeping the insults just above the belt until someone gets really peeved and will go there. (Though he will apologize later because it’s the right thing to do.)

Someday, you will borrow each other’s clothes.
However, well before that happens, you will put a stop to me dressing you both in matchy-matchy outfits.
You will accuse me of favouring one over the other, and believe it until you’re 35.
You will scream “He’s hitting me!” exactly 4,348 times over the course of the next 10 years.

One day, you will be embarrassed to be related to one another. (Thankfully, it will pass quickly.)
You will hide toys, steal crayons and take the last treat for yourself.
You will be an honest and enthusiastic snitch – pointing out your brother’s shortcomings and faults.
And, when asked to borrow 5 bucks, you may opt to keep it for yourself.

Someday, you may take each other for granted.
You will intend to call, but the days will stretch into weeks.
You will be busy with your own family and your own priorities.
Maybe, you just won’t feel a connection to each other.
You will forget about your best friend.

And, on that day, I will forward this link – and these impromptu pictures that I took on a cold winter afternoon in February 2011.

Yes, you were in matchy-matchy outfits.
Yes, you were very young.

But you only had eyes for each other.
Unadulterated affection written all over your faces.
You took care of each other in way that makes my heart explode.

Boys, meet your first true love: your brother.

…

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The Happiest Place on Earth?

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So, Ryder has a *slight* addiction to cars.

He plays with them. He takes them to bed at night. He makes highly annoying noises; emulating the roar of an engine, the impact of a collision, and – my personal ticket to hell – the screeching sound of brakes.

Oh, happy day.

At last count, he has over 100 toy cars – a smörgåsbord of Hot Wheels, die cast models, mini Kinder Surprise cars and even a ride-on Fisher-Price Cadillac Escalade (or the “Escalegg” as he refers to it). I don’t even know how he amassed such a collection; most of the cars conveniently disappeared during my massive decluttering session, only to reappear a few days later.

However, if there’s one car that Ryder treasures above all; one car he plays with EVERY single day – it’s his die cast red MINI Cooper. Fashioned to look exactly like my own, it was gifted to him by his Uncle Adam after a trip to San Francisco, and he’s been hooked ever since. At first, he referred to it as “Mommy’s Car”, but now he correctly (lovingly?) addresses the toy as “Red MINI Cooper”.

(Not to be confused with “Blue MINI Cooper”, the car he’s been asking for, and “Green MINI Cooper”, the car he wants mommy to buy. Oh, and “Silver MINI Cooper” which is just on another level. Of course.)

So today, on a day when soccer practice was a little scary, and his little brother was a little annoying, Ryder was feeling particularly low. And after it was apparent that not even Popsicles and pretzels could pull him out of his sour mood, I decided to take him and Reid on a little road trip.

“Where are we going, Mommy?” he asked.
“It’s a surprise,” I replied.

Ten minutes later, we rounded the corner and the MINI Oakville dealership came into view.

“Ta-da!” I exclaimed. “We came to visit MINI Coopers at their home!”

Okay, so you know how parents record their child’s reaction when they are told they’re going to Disney? I wish I had recorded Ryder’s reaction as we pulled into the parking lot. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“MOMMY!” he yelled. “We’re visiting the MINI Coopers? In their home? I’m so happy! I love you MINI Coopers! I’m here to see you!“…

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The Story of Ryder

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It is 9:13am on Friday morning. The boys are enjoying a late breakfast of Cheerios and a sliced banana, and I am typing away from my kitchen office.

(Yes, I have a kitchen office. Where else do “working moms” handle their biz?)

The sun is shining through an open window; the sound of giggling and Treehouse in the background. And I am wondering why – after four long years – I am finally ready to tell the story of Ryder’s birth.

Perhaps it’s to reach out to fellow “Androids”. Perhaps it’s because my sweet little boy will be 4 years old in less than two weeks. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because of a video I watched this morning, which included three key phrases:

Pediatric Neurosurgeon.
Sick Kids Hospital.
Miracle Story.

And it is undoubtedly the way I felt in November 2008 when I left the neurosurgeon’s office for the final time, with a spring in my step and a profound wish to never see the hospital again, that I am riddled with equal doses of guilt and thankfulness Ryder is one of the “lucky” ones. Because not every parent exits Sick Kids with a spring in their step; and certainly they do not have the option of “never again”.

The Story Of Ryder

It is shortly after 11:00pm on Thursday, May 8th and I am experiencing tummy cramps that ebb and flow. Our little baby is not due for another three weeks, so I am confused as to why the cramps are taking on a predictable pattern – every 10 minutes or so – with equally predictable intensity. I decide to call Telehealth Ontario, my go-to resource for everything from a paper cut to a raging migraine. After I explain the symptoms and how far along in the pregnancy I am, the nurse (who to this day I picture to look like Aunt Jemima) chuckles and says, “You’re in labour, honey!”…

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Apparently Shopping Makes Me Cry

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I’m not usually driven to tears when I hit the shops. I must be getting old/sentimental/foolish.

It started out as a normal Saturday morning – there were things to buy, chores to split up, sticky handprints to erase. Except this morning, I had the pleasure of running a few errands ALL BY MYSELF. For a mom, running errands by yourself is akin to finding a $20 bill in an old pocket. Oh yeah, the good life.

My excellent adventure had only a few stops; the gas station, the bank, and Toys R Us. In that order. Since you don’t read my blog to hear about me pumping gas or handling my finances, I’ll skip forward to Toys R Us.

Although this (obviously) needs no disclaimer, shopping at TRU without your whiny, obnoxious kids totally freakin’ rocks. It’s actually a well known fact that even if you’ve raised the most well behaved children on the planet, they will turn into whiny, obnoxious, toy-grabbing-face-smacking mutants the second you cross the store’s threshold. Trust me, it’s science. And it is a truly euphoric feeling to acknowledge the background screams and caterwauling belongs to someone else’s offspring. Ha ha!

And just what was I doing at Toys R Us on a Saturday morning? I’d rather not say. (Okay, twist my arm.) Sigh… I was picking up two plush, talking Iggle Piggles. Yes, THE Iggle Piggle from the seizure-inducing, suicide-pondering, freakishly cultish “In the Night Garden”. My boys LOVE the show. Conveniently on at 8:00pm (just before the boy’s bedtime), we’ve been allowing them to cuddle up on our bed to watch the nightly episodes. Often, by the time the credits roll, they’re both sweetly sound asleep. So for Christmas, I reckoned I’d surprise them both with a soft sleeping buddy.

I should have grabbed the damn dolls and left.

Instead, I decided to plod around, enjoying my child-free excursion (frankly, reveling in it). And as I passed the opening to TRU’s sister store, Babies R Us, I paused for a moment before wandering in. After all, I didn’t actually need anything – with Reid being over 18 months old, my BRU days are likely behind me – but I decided to pop in for old time’s sake. And then it happened.

The SMELL of the store. The familiar COLOURS. The wall of BOTTLES and PACIFIERS. The exquisitely beautiful PREGNANT customers, joy and bewilderment etched plainly on their faces.

It was like a punch to the gut – or perhaps, a punch to the ovaries. It was a trip down memory lane that I was not prepared to take. It was a funeral – saying goodbye to the thrill of expecting, anticipating, organizing, expanding. It was the stark realization that my baby is actually a toddler, and my toddler is now a little boy… and I had no damn business loitering in Babies R Us.

So, I cried.

There was no rationale or reason for it; I know that my family is complete and we have no plans to have more children. I know that I have two beautiful boys whom I adore wholly and unconditionally. I know that I can finally, finally enjoy moments of freedom – the very reason I laugh off suggestions to expand our brood. And yet, there I stood, cowering behind the high chairs, wiping my tear-stained face with the back of my hand.

(On a related note, high chairs today are so ridiculously stylish. Like black leather and contemporary patterns. Seriously? The kid is going to dump pureed crap all over the thing. Just stick to animals and neon bubbles and get over yourselves.)

Hours later, I still can’t pinpoint exactly what drove me over the edge. Perhaps I’ll never know; perhaps every time I venture into Babies R Us I’ll turn into a nostalgic, blubbering fool.

Note to self: apparently shopping makes me cry. bring tissues.

I’m Not Deaf; I’m Just Ignoring You.

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Before having children, I often took offense at the way mothers handled their whiny, annoying kids in public.

For Christ’s sake, shut them up! I’d silently pray. Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

I often theorized that if I had a kid, there was no way in HELL I’d let him carry on like that, caterwauling like a demented lunatic. My offspring would be polite, well-mannered and conscious of their environment and those around them.

I believe the term is to “eat crow?”

The thing is… I get it now. I really do. As moms, it’s not that we think it’s reasonable to let our children go off on a tangent, audibly torturing everyone within a four-block radius. The simple truth is, we just don’t hear them anymore. Seriously, we are immune.

I call it the fuss filter.

And it comes from long hours of being subjected to whining, temper tantrums, crying fits, hissy fits, outbursts, “he touched me!”, shrieking, ranting, biting, repetitive insanity and the like. After a while, it takes us progressively longer to realize that someone is speaking, let alone screaming his head off. Fuss filter in full effect.

Last Saturday, I was at Wal-Mart with the kiddos.

Let’s see, I’ve gotta grab lotion, toothpaste, check for that silly DVD, get a surge protector, I think we’re out of paper towels, are Pampers on sale this week? Hmm… no, I hate paying full price (Want red car.) but I don’t want to put the little guy in the cheap diapers either, maybe I’ll check Loblaws and come back tomorrow if I need to… (Want red car.) … even though I rather not, should I just buy now?… (WANT RED CAR!) … I can’t believe there’s no freaking Tide Free laundry detergent. Does everyone use it or do they just refuse to keep it in stock? (WANT RED CARRR!!!!) And why do they have 12 different Febreze-scented… (WANT RED CARRR!!!! WANT RED CARRR!!!!! WANT! WANT! WANT!) …thingies. I can’t tell the difference. They all smell the same (WANT RED CAR) but I don’t think I want my house smelling of apples (WANT RED CAR) although…

“Huh? What?”
“WANT RED CAR!”
“Um no, you cannot have a red car. Now pipe down before you make a spectacle of yourself.”

Mmm…. crow.

Meet My BFF

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I never thought of myself as the type of woman to have a BFF. 

It’s quite obvious, actually; I covet my personal space, don’t mind being by myself for long periods of time and would much rather dance to the beat of my own drum. So the fact that I’ve been attached to the hip of my BFF for the last 18 months is somewhat puzzling to me – especially since it’s out of character for me to share so much with one individual.

Meet my BFF… my Breast Feeding Fanatic.

Reid will be 18 months old next week, and he’s still firmly attached to my boobies.

(That’s 1.5 years for those who don’t speak mom-ish; I know, we’re insufferable with our measurement of baby’s age by months, no?)

Please don’t assume I’m one of those women who believes exclusive breast milk is best until the child is 4 years old, because Reid does eat table food (he loves fruit and pasta) and drinks homo milk, juice and water. But, he also loves a good cuddle with mommy, and asks for breast milk about 10 times per day.

Of course, I don’t actually give in to his demands – allotting him only about 5 minutes at the breast a handful of times. But that doesn’t stop him from trying his luck; he normally gropes at my top whenever I’m too close for too long, and although Reid hasn’t mastered speech just yet, he can clearly articulate his desire for “Neh-Neh”. And sometimes I cave; it’s just the best way to calm him down from a tantrum, get him drowsy for a nap or keep him shushed while I talk on the telephone.

Trouble is, I’m not quite sure how to wean him. And I’m not quite certain I want to.

Truthfully, I’d love for him to sleep through the night without the expectation of a warm quickie to lull him back to sleep. And, I’d be even happier if I could be away for a day and not have rock-hard boobs by the end of it. But the simple fact is, I can’t imagine not pulling him onto my lap and bringing him in close; having his warm hand on my heart as he settles in to feed. I rather enjoy the one-on-one time with him, and feel the need to protect a bonding experience I’m not willing to give up just yet.

My continued relationship with my BFF is met with mixed reactions.

“Good for you. I breastfed my little one until she was two.”
“You know you need to stop, right? He’s old enough.”
“Are you still f%#king breast feeding???”
“That’s awesome. I plan on breast feeding for as long as possible.”

I’m not too concerned with what others say. Depending on my mood, I’ll wholeheartedly agree with them (“I know! I’m sick of it already! He needs to be weaned…”) or just shrug my shoulders and go about my day. I know that the decisions I make will be best for Reid and me, and it’s sometimes hard for onlookers – even friends and family – to appreciate that. But it’s not a big deal –

After all, nobody comes between a girl and her BFF.

Hold on My Heart

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A few nights ago, while lying in bed, I whispered to my husband, “They wouldn’t remember me. They wouldn’t know me.”

Having being aroused from his slumber, he blinked his eyes and asked “Huh?”

“If something happened to me tomorrow,” I clarified. “Ryder is only 3; he would perhaps have selected memories of me, if any. Reid would remember nothing.”

“Go to sleep,” my husband ordered.

But I couldn’t let it go. I became obsessed with the idea of writing a letter to my boys. A letter that speaks to them today – but one I’d want them to read much, much later in life. Perhaps even after I’ve passed. Just a little note that gives them insight into my feelings, at this exact moment, while they’re still babies and will likely have no recollection of this time.

I also wanted to write a letter that tells it like it is. Because I’m not perfect. And they’re not perfect. But for better or worse, this is a snapshot of our time together. It goes something like this:

“Dear Ryder & Reid,

I’ll start this letter by addressing you both at the same time, because when writing about how much I love you, my feelings apply both equally and unconditionally. You are my LIFE. I have vague memories of a time before you, but at this very moment, every waking moment is consumed with thoughts of how fiercely I love you. Having children has both defined and justified my existence.

For Ryder:

Oh, where to begin. Dude, you cry waaay too much. It’s almost insufferable. Just shut up and calm down already; no, you can’t have jujubes for breakfast and yes, when I say stop jumping on the couch, I mean it. There are times when I really think you will break me; that I will throw my arms up in defeat and check into the hotel for bad mothers.

But at other times, I see this light shining in your eyes which reveals a beautiful, kind spirit. I see a playfulness and naughtiness that every child should hold onto for as long as humanly possible, before rules are established and routines are kept. Your smile is like warm sunlight on my face; it dazzles me and makes me incredibly aware of the quirky little man before me. I fantasize about the man you’ll become, and the lucky people who will bask in your glow. You are my first true love.

For Reid:

Just give up the boob already. What you’re doing is purely for show now. And I get it; it’s nice to have a warm, soft booby nearby. Remind me to mention this to your future girlfriends. But enough already; demanding “ne-ne” twenty times a day and then latching on for 2 minutes before you walk away does neither of us any good. You suck (literally) and it’s time to stop.

But I can never say no. I’ve got this unhealthy obsession with you. Perhaps it’s because I see so much of me in you, or because by nature, you’re just the sweetest little thing. But from the moment I held you in my arms, I realized that I could fall in love a second time – and just as hard. From your uncanny intelligence to your ever-ready smile, you pull at my heart and bring me to life. I’m not sure what I did to deserve you, but I will spend the rest of my life giving thanks.”

As you can see, it’s not all roses and lollipops. But it never is, is it? Still wouldn’t trade them for all the tea in China.

Have you recorded your thoughts & feelings in a journal – or post-dated a letter to your child? If you take the good and take the bad, what would it say?

The Green Goblin

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I’ll never forget the first time Ryder tottered over to our front lawn. A sea of green; he was anxious to test the waters. But there was just something about the look, texture or smell of the fuzzy carpet that made him stop dead in his tracks.

“Here you go!” my husband cajoled, plonking him right in the middle of the lawn.

And the water works began. He simply would not move his feet an inch, opting instead to cry while riveted on the spot. It literally took weeks before he ventured over again, and several more before he was able to tread grass without screaming his little head off. If I had to add it up, I’d say we spent hours coaxing him to take just one small step.

Two years later to the date, we’ve got another little guy terrified of the great green goblin.

Were your children afraid to walk on grass? Join the club!

Little Boys (Enough Said)

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It’s so funny that just over a week ago, my girlfriends and I were sitting in a restaurant discussing the merits of having girls over boys.

“Girls are expensive and there’s a 98% chance she’ll dress like a tramp,” one opined.

“Boys are always in the emergency room,” another counseled.

We laughed heartily, knowing full well that that all kids are a blessing, regardless of their gender. But it seems pretty coincidental that just 6 hours later, Ryder took a tumble which necessitated an emergency room visit. I made reference to it in my Dr.Oz post below, so I thought I’d share the details with y’all.

It all started in the wee hours of Easter morning. Ryder snuck into our room and climbed in bed with us on my husband’s side. As it’s a somewhat familiar occurrence he didn’t think much of it, and wrapped his arms around Ryder. (Usually he would have deposited him in the center of the bed, but that piece of real estate was already being rented by Reid! King sized beds = Worth every penny.)

Well, both my husband and Ryder shifted positions ever so slightly, and I’m assuming Ryder was dreaming, because he rolled off our bed with a flourish. I woke up when I heard a Thump! and sat upright, only to see Ryder calmly climb back in bed and snuggle up in the middle next to me (Reid had since transitioned to the other side – where a baby gate keeps him from falling).

We all went back to sleep without incident… or so I thought. About and hour later, I awoke to see Ryder’s eyes wide open, staring straight ahead.

“What’s wrong, honey? Why aren’t you sleeping?” I asked.
“Boo boo ear,” he whispered back hoarsely.

I immediately instructed hubby to turn on the lights – and encountered a trail of blood on the pillow. Oh no, I thought. I inspected Ryder’s right ear and saw a fresh, angry red laceration across the top of the ear, and a small degree of swelling around the cut.

Oh no.

(It was apparent that he had clipped the side of our night table on the way down – and likely bashed his ear against it quite badly.)

After cleaning his ear with hydrogen peroxide, I took him downstairs so I could ice the area. Not fun! He squirmed every time I came within two feet and cried in pain when the cold made contact. And even with my feeble attempts at keeping the swelling down, within hours the cartilage ballooned up an angry, purplish-blue,  and his ear proceeded to stick out at a 45-degree angle from his head.

I was scared. Courtesy of my husband’s UFC obsession, I had seen way too many MMA fighters with cauliflower ears after blunt force trauma. I Googled and found out that an ear can cauliflower after repeated blows… or just one, hard whack. Incision and drainage was necessary to protect the integrity of the ear, and must be carried out before the cartilage began to undergo changes due to the blood collection.

So although we were meant to spend Easter with my parents, we ended up taking Ryder to the Emergency Kids Clinic at Trillium Hospital (which, thank goodness, is open on holidays and after hours).

The doctor there gave us the best news – his ear canal was not affected at all. BUT, as for the bruising and swelling, he confirmed that a hematoma had started to form in his ear, and careful observation would be crucial over the next few days to determine if drainage was required. Follow up with our pediatrician within 24 hours was mandatory.

The next day, I brought Ryder to our pediatrician, who once again went through the steps to ensure Ryder’s hearing was perfect and examined the hematoma. And then he said something that completely blew me away:

“Ryder needs to see a plastic surgeon,” he advised. “He’s so young, we don’t want to take any chances, and he would be the one to perform the incision and drainage if necessary.”

(I must admit that at this point, I briefly wondered if I could ask for a 2 for 1 deal on an ear drainage for baby and boob lift for mommy. I know, bad mommy.)

So the next day I took him to a world-renowned plastic surgeon (there were a few hotties in his office but I couldn’t help wondering what they had had done) and I daresay Ryder was his youngest patient in the waiting room.

The surgeon’s verdict? He didn’t have to “slice it open” (his words, not mine) just yet; we’d still be on daily watch. He wanted to see if the hematoma would resolve by itself without drainage, because the cartilage felt firm and not squishy (as in the case with future cauliflowers), and he didn’t want to take the risk of secondary infection by performing an operation that wasn’t strictly warranted.

I met the surgeon at the hospital two days later, and arrived with newfound optimism due to Ryder’s ear taking a dramatic turn for the better. The swelling had resolved by about 50%, and the ear started turning blackish-yellow, a sure sign the bruising was on it’s way out too. For the first time in 5 long days, we received confirmation that drainage was no longer the expected prognosis. Woo hoo!

Today, his ear is still bruised… but not so noticeable unless you look for it. A less angry red line is still visible across most of his upper ear, but 95% of the swelling has resolved and it sticks out only minutely. Who knew a simple tumble could bring about so many complications?

But I digress… little boys do spend their fair share of time in doctor’s offices.

I couldn’t bear to take a picture of Ryder with his ear swollen… but here he is on Day 5 of recovery. As you can see, the injury hasn’t affected his demeanor at all!

RYDER, DAY 5