So Close

It's like riding a bike

I accomplished one of the most exciting achievements of my life this weekend, I taught the kids how to ride a bike. It was SO exciting!

We stay in a fantastic security estate, a little haven where the kids are able to ride their bikes around the complex with very little cars driving around and where there aren't any 'baddies' lurking around. At any given day on a weekend there are at least 10-20 young children riding their bicycles up and down. And up until this point, my children haven't been able to participate because they didn't know how to ride a bike.  We bought them bikes 6 months ago but after an aborted attempt to teach them how to ride a bike (*cough* Marko *cough*), the bikes just gathered dust in the garage. I thought about teaching them myself but it was hot and sweaty and I just couldn't.

But it is school holidays now and on Thursday night it was one of those beautiful Cape Town sunny winter's evenings and I thought I would give it a bash. I ran up and down next to the bike telling them how to balance and how to peddle (yay, I remembered!) and Adam got it straight away. Within a few minutes he was peddling up and down as if he had being doing it for years. He had got it.  It took until this morning for Kate to get it, but she has got it too.  It was such a fantastic feeling to see the two of them riding up and down on their bikes.

Yesterday I bought Max a bike too and today the kids were on their bikes the whole day. Poor Adam has a sore bum from all the bike riding. Marko and I are so excited about this bike riding thing we are thinking about getting bicycles too! 

Here are some pics from today. I was going to photoshop some shoes on Max and a helmet on Adam but I am tired and its late so I want you to pretend you can see them. Would hate to have a repeat of this.

 

 

Like mother like daughter

It is not always a pleasant experience to hear yourself in your children.  It is like having a mirror that reflects your most annoying habits.  Kate has mastered the art of sarkiness and I am afraid I only have myself to blame.

I am ashamed to say that I sometimes say not-very-proper-mommy things.  For example, when they have a hissy fit and want something that I clearly, logically can NOT give them this very minute (because it doesn't exist / isn't in the house / is finished etc), then I have been known to say things like "Where would you like me to get XYZ? Pull it out my bum??"  I heard Kate tell Adam the other day: Adam, where would you like mom to get that from?  Out her bum???"  Must try a more moderate approach. 

Combine this sarky attitude with the odd unplanned exposure to teen TV (why do they put teen TV in the middle of fine programming like Spongebob and The Might B??) and you get some some interesting Kate'isms.  I'll give you three recent examples:

1.  After making me really cross recently, I sent Kate to her room as punishment. I marched after her and went off on a long tirade of how disappointed I was in her behaviour and how cross she makes me when she is ugly to her brother etc and after eventually winding down to a close she nods her head and says: "and your point is.....?"  MY POINT IS THAT I AM GOING TO PUNISH YOU UNTIL NEXT YEAR IF YOU DO THIS AGAIN!!!!  I was both cross and laughing on the inside at the same time.  

2.  The second incident happened last night. We have a rule that they can play on their iPads for about 15 minutes after brushing their teeth and before lights out.  We then go in and kiss them goodnight and take their iPads away.  So last night I went in to say "Right, that was long enough, time for sleep".  Nooo, they moaned, that wasn't long!!  "Yes it WAS" I say.  Kate replies in a posh accent: "Mom, I believe the word you are looking for is WASN'T.  I believe the word I am looking for is GO TO SLEEP IMMEDIATELY.

3.  This morning Kate didn't want to eat breakfast and asked for a banana instead. I said fine. Half way through she changed her mind. I opened my mouth to have a moan at her and she holds up her hand and says dramatically:  "Wait, wait! I know what you are going to say:  'Blah blah wasting food blah blah'".

My family and friends will tell you that Kate is my just reward for everything that I am and was. She keeps me on my toes.

PS I know reading the above will make toes of strict parents all over the world curl in horror. I could try break her spirit down but I prefer to keep it intact and have her keep her character while remaining appropriately respectful. I think she knows enough to know when it is appropriate to be 'funny' (ie at home) and when it isn't (ie at school / in other people's company). So far so good.  

 

PPS Yes, I know that watching TV, playing on iPads before bedtime, eating bananas for breakfast, sending children to their rooms for punishment, sassiness and lying on tiled floors is terrible parenting and will cause my children to become dreadful delinquents. My poor children.  What a cursed life they have, we obviously need help.  Prayers and small cash donations are welcome.

Belated Mother's Day Meme

Hello Campers, I am back from vacation.  Now in need of a vacation to recover from my vacation.  Seriously though, we had a fab time on holiday.  All we did was eat, drink and relax.  Fantanstic.  About a 100 kgs heavier, but fantastic anyway.  It was a bit of a shock to return back to normal life.  The service at home is shocking and even worse - there is no glass of Chardonnay to be had with my lunch.  Deeply disappointing.  I have posted some pics of our holiday on my Facebook profile. If you are FB friends with me, you can check them out there.  If you aren't FB friends with me, then you must be the only person left on the planet who isn't.  I am proud to say that I have deep and meaningful relationships with at least 5% of my FB friends.  

My mother and father greeted me on my return with sharp admonitions to update my blog (Mother: "Tertia, you MUST update your blog more often".  Father:  "Yes, you are completely useless" - clearly feeling lots of love from my parents).  However, because my brain is still stuck somewhere between last week Wednesday and Thursday, I am sans inspiration.  But fear not - I found this lovely meme on my friend Tanya's blog (that skanky ho who is the editor of Living and Loving magazine and who secretly desires to be me) and in honour of Mother's Day next week*, I thought I would I give it a whirl. PS my other friend Tania did a version too.  I've decided to only have friends called Tania/Tanya.  It makes it much easier to remember their names. 

My most embarrassing moment as a mom was when… I have many embarrassing moments, but I guess my worst ones are when the twins go into 'twin zone' when I am out in public. That is where they start psyching each other up, getting into a manic frenzy where they screech and giggle and completely zone out. They tickle each other, laugh and basically act like two crazy wild children and I can't stop them or quieten them down without making a scene.  Totally embarrassing.  

The worst parenting advice I ever got was… "You better not pick them up too much / go to them at night / hold them too much etc when they are babies or else you will spoil them".  It is impossible to 'spoil' a baby, they NEED to be picked up / held etc.  I am glad I never listened to that.

The best parenting advice I ever got was… 'this too shall pass'.  It really is true. Even in your worst, most sleep deprived times... this too shall pass

I wish they had have told me that being a mom… would turn my whole life upside down. That I would no longer be in control.  And that I need to stop trying to be in control and just enjoy the flow

My most frightening moment as a mom was when… Wow, many.  When Adam was born and was taken to the NICU for breathing problems.  When we thought we lost Kate in the shopping mall.  Those brief moments when I feel totally out of control and unable to protect my children.

My best mom blog is… I have many that I read often.  Tanya/Tania as above.  My sister.  Dooce.  But my new favourite one is Rage Against the Minivan.  I LOVE the way she writes and I think she is an amazing woman.

The most awkward question I get asked as a mom is… When other moms assume that I am as domesticated as them.  I don't / can't cook. I am not a SAHM.  This lack of domestic skills sometimes makes me feel inadequate

If I had to do anything over as a mom, it would be… Relax more.  Dont be so paranoid / uptight / terrified.  Try and remember that kids are actually quite tough and 'this too shall pass'

If I could advise new moms to do anything, it would be to…Enjoy every stage, it goes by so quickly.  Savour today, your babies grow up so soon :(

The “non-essential” items that became essential were… For the twins - anything that would substitute being held - swings, bouncy chairs, prams. For Max - a very comfy rocking chair that I put in my room.  We spent many hours at night in it.  

The products that make me look as if I’ve had a decent night’s uninterrupted sleep are…Haven't yet discovered this. I always look as if I am about 8 hours short of sleep

The things that have kept me sane as a mom are… The Interwebs, my fabulous paediatrician, my sister, my mother, my husband and my fantastic nanny

The one thing I’ll never do again as a mom is… be so terrified of being in charge of such fragile beings - as I said above, I wish I had spent less time being scared and more time just enjoying each stage.

I’d like to be remembered as the mom who…is totally in tune with her children's hearts and minds. One of the kid's teachers said this about me "She is very in tune with her children". It was the best thing anyone has ever said about me. I hope I always stay that way. 

Motherhood has changed me because I’m… privileged and honoured to have the opportunity to experience this kind of love.  I love my children so completely and deeply, it blows my mind. I never knew such love was possible. It is better than any drug I've ever taken (and I've sampled a few in my life time)

Here is a pic of my precious children on holiday. I have THREE healthy, wonderful (slightly naughty) children. Three. That very thought still gives me butterflies in my tummy.  Damn, I am lucky. 

PS I know Mother's Day was this past weekend, but remember I am still about two weeks behind in terms of brain function.

Filing the kids artwork in File 13

As I might have mentioned, I write a weekly column for South Africa's best parenting magazine - Living and Loving.  The incredibly good looking and amazingly talented editor (who has a personal blog where she writes about parenting her son also called Max *cough*, *copy cat*) kindly agreed that I could repost some of my older articles here on my blog. As long as you all go out and buy the magazine and write lovely letters to the editor telling her how incredibly good looking and amazingly talented she is. 

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Can you sense how zen I am?  Do you know why? It is because I am in my study. I LOVE my study; it is my favourite room in the house. It is a proper, grown up study with a big wooden desk with leather inlay, it has dark mahogany bookshelves and buttoned leather chairs.  My study is my sanctuary, my creative space, my hiding place.  It is where I ply my trade, recharge my batteries and drink my wine. One day when I die, I want to be buried right here in my study.

Unfortunately for me, not everyone reveres my sacred space as much as I do and my desk has become the final destination point for all the paraphernalia in the house that apparently has no final destination point of its own.  Bills (unpaid and paid), receipts, old magazines, newspapers, party invitations, toys, kids artwork and a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich (not mine!) all jostle for space on my beautiful leather desk. It drives me CRAZY!  I hate clutter, and I especially hate clutter in my sacred space!

Every few days I make half-hearted attempts to sort my desk out, but that usually involves straightening the piles so that the mess looks neat. I make piles of “can put off until tomorrow”, “can put off until next week” and “can put off indefinitely”. I like my procrastination to be ordered, if you know what I mean. Plus a neat mess is more calming than a messy mess, right? No, I know. It isn’t really.  Which is why every once in a while, I get stuck in and sort that mess out!

I am a ruthless tidy-upper.  Already very un-traditional and unromantic, I save absolutely nothing for keepsake. If it isn’t a case of life or death or being handed over for non-payment, it gets turfed. Yes it would be nice to have an old magazine to cut out of, but I can’t take the chance that if I let the magazine back into the wild (of my house), it will find its way back to my desk.  Half-eaten peanut butter sandwiches, old receipts, broken toys and kids artwork all get relegated to file 13 – the dustbin. I can’t tell how satisfying it is to sit at my clean, tidy desk and gaze loving at its empty expanse. 

Last week, after a particularly satisfying purge, I was calming sitting at my desk, hard at work at some Serious Work Stuff (which may or may not have included updating my Facebook status and checking Twitter) when I heard a loud gasp pierce the calm: “MOM!!” shouted my six year old son in shock and horror. “What! What’s wrong?” I yelled back, envisioning all sorts of catastrophes. 

“SOMEONE THREW THE BEAUTIFUL WOODEN TREE I MADE IN THE DUSTBIN!!”

Mental note to self:  When doing desk-purge, always remove evidence immediately.

“Oh dear!” I replied, scrambling for a victim on which to lay the blame. “It must have been... the baby! You know how he likes to throw everything in the bin, silly boy”, I replied nervously.

“Here, let me put it on your desk next to you.  Thank goodness I found it, hey Mom!” Thank goodness indeed.*Sob*  Back on the desk went the very-sweet, but totally-without-any-usefulness wooden tree.

Yes, I am ashamed to admit it, but I don’t keep all my children’s artwork. In fact, I bin the majority of it.  If I were a better mom who spent less time at her desk working (and checking Facebook while drinking her Chardonnay), I would be labelling all their artwork with their names and the dates of their beautiful creations, and filing it away for when they are older.

I suppose I could get some kind of system set up to file and store their (mountains) of artwork that didn’t involve (a) my desk or (b) the dustbin, but where would I store the artwork store? I know what would happen, the artwork file would somehow find its way back to my study and add even more clutter to my lovely me-time room.  No, I can’t take the chance.

Luckily for me, modern technology has saved my mother-cred to a degree. I am now able to scan some of their drawings and save it on my computer’s hard drive.  A few kilobytes of data is so much easier to store than an A4 piece of paper with Picassoesque-like scribbles.  Unfortunately the scanning thing doesn’t work as well on wooden trees with bits of mosaic stuck on it. 

Yes, I will probably go straight to hell for throwing away my children’s artwork but at least my final resting place (my study) will be neat and tidy and free of clutter.

PS:  In my defence, the wooden tree really wasn’t his best work.  

Parenting after infertility and freebie babies

Having a baby after 'serious' infertility is not like having a baby without struggling. It is not better or worse, it is just different.  There is a lot that is the same - the love, the joy, the tough bits, the good bits etc - that is the same. I made the mistake a few years ago thinking that somehow ex-infertiles felt more of the 'wow' because of their struggle, but that is not true.  While it could be true that someone who had to go through 6 IVFs in order to conceive might feel more of the 'wow' than say a teen mom who has an unwanted pregnancy, I've realised that all moms who love their babies, love their babies. In other words, the love an ex-infertile mom feels for her baby is no better or more than the mother who conceived easily.

That sounds convoluted, but what I am trying to say is that while I don't believe the journey to have your child defines how much you will love your child, it can influence how you love your child.

I don't want to get into the whole Pain Olympics thing, however I do believe there is a difference between those who face just 'some' difficulties in conceiving, and those who have come face to face with the terror that they might never conceive. It's a psychological difference, a state of mind rather than a difference in how many IVFs you've done. You might have done 15 IVFs and never had to face that fear. You might do one and be right there. But once you've crossed that line, once you've lived your fear, it is hard to go back to a state of being when you thought it was a matter of 'when' you would become a parent, not a matter of 'if ever'.  

Without trivializing other peoples serious experiences, I suppose it must be like facing a very serious health condition, or a life threatening experience that catapults you into another state of consciousness - it makes you live in the place where your future is not as you would wish it to be, and you have no control over how to get back to where you once were. Often, only once you have been really ill do you appreciate how extraordinary wondrous everyday health is. In a similar way, facing the reality of a childless future can make you appreciate the depth of your blessing when you do one day conceive.

Having been through 9 IVFs and all my losses, made me acutely aware of how exceptionally lucky I was to have my twins when they were born. It is a wonderful feeling and its a lasting feeling.  Like that butterfly feeling you get in your tummy when it's your birthday and you are just about to open your big birthday present... it's a wonderful feeling, but it is also an exhausting feeling.  

There was so much hard work / heartache / tears / money / pain / hope / fear that led up to the moment that they were born.  Their birth was the culmination of so much, that mixed with my joy was a huge amount of.... I am not sure exactly what? Exhaustion? Fear that they would be taken away? Guilt if I didn't enjoy every single moment? Angst.  I did not enjoy their babyhood.  I felt like I had to be on my guard all the time, in case it all went away. That because I had worked so hard for them, I had to continue to work hard to parent them. I had to constantly be in a state of heightened alert. Everything was so intense. Intense joy. Intense love. Intense angst.  Exhausting.

And then along came Max. The freebie. The unplanned bonus baby that I had to do absolutely no hard work for. An easy conception, an easy pregnancy, a relatively easy birth.  No work! No planning. Nothing. It is the weirdest feeling.  I still look at him and think 'huh?' How on earth did you happen? How is it possible to love a baby so much that I didn't sweat blood and tears for?  Surely the harder you work for something, the more you love it? 

Not true.  

I can't get over how much I love this freebie baby.  I look at him in amazement. He is like a guilty pleasure.  I feel like I just picked up a hundred bucks off the street and there is no one around for miles so I really can't be expected to hand it in to anyone. That hundred bucks? Its mine! I didn't have to work hard for it, I didn't have to give anything up for it. It just landed in my lap.  And I can spend that hundred bucks on anything I want, on something just for me. 

That is how I feel about Max.  Even though it is HARD WORK to have a baby when you are SO OLD, and even though having 3 kids and running a business is hectic, I am so damn grateful that I got to experience what it is like to love 'normally', whatever that is.  Fuck, it is the most divine feeling in the world and I am so lucky and grateful that I got a chance to experience it.

It has been incredibly healing for me, and it has helped me to love the twins 'normally' too. Much less angst, much more enjoyment.  Max is the beautiful, soft, healthy, normal completion to a story that started out so normally, got so sad and so bad in the middle, and now has ended up so normally*.

I know I am saying 'normal' a lot, but so much of what I went through was so abnormal that to be 'normal' is something I am so grateful for.

Damn, I am a lucky gal. 

Here are pics of us at the dam a few weekends ago. My kids took off their pants and walked in the freezing cold water. 

  * PS I am clearly not without any angst. My middle name is angst. I just had a HUGELY angst moment when I thought 'omg, I have jinxed things and now my children will die because I dared to let go of the 'iamsograteful' / 'iamsolucky' / 'promiseiwillneverforget' feeling for a bit'. I still have some of the angst, but it is mostly normal. Or as normal as I will ever be.

Where are you on the soft vs strict scale?

In many respects, Marko and I are a lot alike.  We even look alike, to a degree (both tall, slim'ish, dark hair, blue eyes, thin face).  We are both anal about stuff, we have a similar attitude towards debt, towards finances, towards holidays, religion, being on time etc.  However, one way in which we differ is our attitude towards children - specifically issues on how we should live with them and them with us.

There is lots we agree on, and we both love them equally but if there was a scale of 1-10 in which 1 was allowing the kids to roam free and be in touch with their feelings all the time and all other airy fairy stuff and 10 was 'kids should be seen and not heard and should fit into OUR lives not the other way around', he would probably be around a 7, and I am probably a minus 2. Ok, not so bad, but maybe around a 3.  Which is not a big difference, most of the time.  Most of the time, we operate quite well between the 3 and the 7 and we manage to find a happy space that suits all of us.

I think its a healthy thing, I think we balance each other out well and it is good for the kids. I think if they had two 7s, life would be a bit too harsh for them. If they had two 3s, they would find it tough to survive in a world that is a lot harder than 2s and 3s.

But every now and then our 3s and 7s collide.  

Last Thursday night, we were cooking supper (and by *we* I mean mostly Rose) and the kids were playing around.  It was a beautiful scene... 3 beautiful, hard-fought-for kids playing and laughing, food cooking (Rose), wine drinking (me)....

Adam got his toy box, emptied out all the toys and put Max inside. They then went flying around the dining room table, laughing and screeching and having so much fun.  Soon Kate joined in. It was such a nice feeling to see my children playing and enjoying themselves. I felt really blessed - so lucky to have 3 beautiful, healthy children, I have a beautiful home, I have help, I have a successful business, I am able to work from home... etc etc.

Here are a few photos of the kids running around:

 

What a beautiful moment.  Except that what I didn't realize is that by pushing the toy box (which is on wheels) around and around, they were scratching the gloss off the tiles.  As a result, there is a trail of scuff marks on our beautiful tiles all around the dining room table. Marko was FURIOUS.  He went crazy when he got home.  (In fact, I think he was quite rude to me, but we will not mention that now)

It is these things that drive him crazy.  He says he is clearly the only one that gives a shit about our stuff and if it wasn't for him, the kids would just roam free and the entire house would get fucked up / break down / be destroyed.  I think that is crap. I do care about the house, and about our stuff - I just care about the kids more. 

Actually, that is unfair - it is not as if he doesn't care about the kids. He does, obviously. And yes, perhaps the kids shouldn't have pushed the box around the floor but they didn't know that, and I OBVIOUSLY didn't know it would leave marks or else I wouldn't have let them.

I sometimes feel that he can be too uptight about 'stuff'. And he feels that sometimes I don't care enough about 'stuff' - our stuff that we worked hard for.

I know I need to be stricter (I went to my book club evening last night and I realized that I am by far the biggest wuss/walk over/softy/useless mother around) but I feel that life is so short, with so much hardship and heartache, we should spend more time loving and laughing and less time caring about 'stuff'.  

Anyway, now that I have written this post I realize that I am possibly a little too close to the lower end of the kids/stuff scale. And yes, it is annoying that the tiles were scratched. And maybe Marko had a right to be upset about the tiles being scratched.  (Although he did not have a right to shout at me!!!  Fartbag).

So what is the point of this post? I don't know. I am tired now after all this writing. I think the point is that I am always right and Marko is always wrong. I think that is the point. Yes, good.  We will leave it there.

PS Where are you on the softy vs strict scale?

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Answer: Because we took it for a walk.

Sometimes I look at my life and think that if my former glamorous, oh-so-with-it self (pre marriage and kids) could see my life now, she would shake her head in horror.  Three kids, two dogs, two bunnies, a few fish, a bowl of tadpoles, a chicken, one husband, a large mortgage, comfortable pants and what looks suspiciously like (and probably is) dried snot on my shoulder.  

Of course, if my former infertile self had to see my life now, her heart would explode with happiness because my life is exactly how I wished it would be.  Except perhaps for a few kilos more and a few bucks less.  But every bit as crazy / busy / full / wonderful as I hoped it would be.

Still, I have to laugh. I hear myself do and say things that I never thought I would say. Like for example "make sure the chicken doesn't run across the road".  

We have a chick. A baby chicken.  My father bought two baby chicks for the kids, but one unfortunately didn't survive the love and enthusiasm dished out by the twins.  The surviving chick (who just happens to be Kate's chick 'Fluffy', according to Kate that is) stays in a special hutch thing with special warming lights and special straw and special food etc.  

Cost of chick (bought by my father) = 10 bucks

Cost of special hut, special warming lights, special everything else (bought by Marko) = Much, MUCH more than 10 bucks

As soon as it is big enough and able to keep itself warm, it will go outside in the area where the bunnies romp around.  But for now it stays in its special hutch.  Unless we take it out for a walk.  Yes, we take our chicken for a walk. It is the funniest thing.  We take it across the road to the lawns and the kids play while the chicken pecks and scratches and follows us around.  

I don't know - there is just something about me sipping on my glass of wine at 5pm while the twins ride their bikes, Max rolls around on the grass and the little chicken follows everyone around that makes me smile.  My life is wonderful. Crazy, but wonderful.

PS Big moment, Max had his first hair cut today.  It was like night and day compared to Adam's first haircut (and every hair cut since then).  I could say more, but I wont.  In essence, YAY for easy babies!!

PPS A special hello to the lovely blog reader I met today in the park - you made me feel like a celeb when you came up and said hi, thank you :-) 

 
 
   

PPPS That wine glass looks terrible like that on its side (empty), but I had to put it somewhere while I ran after Max, prying his chubby little fingers off the chicken's neck. I don't normally leave empty wine glasses strewn around the communal parks. 

A boot and a bottle of deodorant.

Last night Adam said he wishes there wasn't ever a mothers day because he is so cross with me. I can't even remember what it was that I had supposedly done wrong.  My list of transgressions is extremely long. It is my fault he tripped, it is my fault he hurt himself, I am a horrible mother and not his friend because I wouldn't let him have 'something nice' to eat.  Something nice = something sugary.  Whatever.  I am waiting for the kids to say "when is KIDS DAY?" so that I can tell them what my parents told me (and which used to frustrate me endlessly) "everyday is kids day, buddy".

So it's Father Day today.  Another one of those Hallmark occasions that infertiles dread.  Mother's Day sucks because it symbolizes everything you want and don't yet have. Father's day sucks because its ok if you are hurting, but it kills you to see your husband hurting, even though they pretend not to be hurting.

And yet, here we are - Marko is celebrating Father's Day as a 30-something* father to three kids, married to the best wife he could ever have dreamed of having. That right there should be enough gifts and blessings to last a life time.  But because apparently it is not the done thing to offer one's blessings as one's gifts, the kids and I went to buy the gifts they chose for their father.  Adam chose a can of deodorant (because dad loves his deodorant) and Kate wanted to choose a boot. One boot. Why, I have no idea.  Sometimes Kate and Marko clash a little as they are both equally stubborn.  The boot might have been a revenge gift.

I hope Marko likes cheap chocolate as we bought two cans of deodorant (they were on sale - WIN!), a chocolate tool set and three chocolate boots. I persuaded Kate that it was a win-win situation, Marko could get the boot she wanted to buy and she could eat the chocolate afterwards.  We aren't big on gifts in this house.

Marko is a great father. He is not perfect (like me), but not everyone can be.  However, luckily (for him) his good points far outweigh his minor character flaws. The kids seem quite fond of him. I think I'll keep him around for a bit longer.

On a more serious note - I am immensely grateful to spending this father's day with my father.  This month a year ago, my father suffered two heart attacks (scary), open heart surgery (very scary) and a stroke (absolutely mind-numbingly, earth-shatteringly terrifying. Terrifying). At the time I didn't know whether we would be spending another father's day together. Today I am so grateful to be spending it with my happy, healthy, amazing father.  I love you daddy, very, very much.

PS Max and I are watching the Baby Einstein DVDs I thought I finally was rid of four years ago. It doesn't get any better the second time around. 

*It was Marko's b/day yesterday. He is heading rapidly towards 40. Oh how I will laugh and laugh when he hits 40.  After teasing me mercilessly for years, it will be payback time. Heh.

Terrible quality pic below. Of the three camera's I have in the house, only one is working. Very annoying.  Anyway, here is Marko and his brood on the couch watching TV this morning.

The best form of birth control

I often think that if anyone is ever wavering in their decision as to whether they want to have children or not, they should spend some time at my house. Instant birth control.

Adam: I want a straw

Me: We don't have any straws

Adam: But I want one

Me: We don't have any straws Adam

Adam: I waaant a straw

Me:  Adam, we don't have any straws. I am going to have a shower, do not call me.

As I get in the shower..

Adam:  CAN SOMEONE PLEASE BRING ME A STRAW.

Two minutes later, I am still in shower....

Kate: Mom, come quick - Adam's made a poo, a HUGE one

Me:  Tell him to either wipe his own bum, or wait there for me

Kate: He says if you don't come now, he is going to stand up and poop will go all over the floor.

Me:  Tell him to wait there, I am coming now.  Go talk to him while he is waiting. (I can hear her dawdling off, completely forgetting to pass my message along)

A minute later I get out the shower, still wet and walk over to the kid's bathroom. Adam is now sitting on the chair playing a computer game.

Me: Adam! Did you wipe your bum!  Come here so that I can do it.

Adam:  Sorry mom, I forgot.  Hurry up, the game is finishing. HURRY! HURRYHURRYHURRY! Wahhaaaaaaaa! *sobbing*, you made me miss my game, its all finished now.

Collapses into hysterical crying. (him, not me. Although after waking up at 5:30am thanks to Kate, I feel like collapsing in a heap myself.)

Sigh.  My kids are serious birth control.  Enough to make ovaries shut down and sperm swim back up again. 

On another note, look at these pictures the kids drew for me for my birthday. The difference between the two of them is just, well, different. They are just very different to each other. 

PS I think I have told you a year or so before?  Adam is obsessed with green.  Green is his favourite colour and everything has to be green.  The entire drawing is in green.

PPS I think Max might be my favourite child at the moment.  There is a lot to be said for the no talking, not moving thing.

My gorgeous kids

(will post about my trip away soon, as soon as I've caught my breath)