storytelling

When we were in New Zealand in February my nephew introduced Elliot to the idea of stories in the car. More specifically, the idea of Mum or Dad telling a story in the car. We did a lot of driving so there were a lot of stories. And I knew when we got home it was going to continue. And it has.

We have a rule that only the person in the passenger seat can tell a story, not the driver, as the driver has to concentrate. So often if Greg and I are both in the car with the kids, Elliot asks for a story.

It’s draining. We usually get some guidance from Elliot in the form of a colour and a vehicle. For example, a story about a light blue fire truck. We’re on our own after that. We try to make it interactive, and Greg is better at this than me, but Elliot usually just likes to listen. A few times we’ve convinced him to tell us a story, but that doesn’t work very often.

Greg and I now both jump at the chance to drive if we’re all in the car, just so we don’t have to be the one telling the story. Any literary people out there are probably grimacing at the lazy parenting here.

Okay, so there’s the background. Elliot likes to hear stories in the car and we pretty much hate telling them. So when I saw the “Telling Tales” article in the October issue of Today’s Parent, I knew it was a must read. Here’s a quote:

“Why is telling children stories so important? For one, storytelling can create a magical, intimate experience. More significantly, though, taking time to create a story shows that you are willing to put your life on pause. And while the emphasis is on having fun, researchers say this simple pasttime might even boost children’s brains.”

Okay…so I’m feeling a bit guilty now. And I’ve decided to embrace the storytelling. Or at least try to be a bit more enthusiastic about it. And the article gave me some tips, namely:

  • It doesn’t have to be a made up story. Tell a fairy tale, or tell a story about my childhood.
  • Start at the end of a classic tale. For example, what happened after Jack cut down the beanstalk? (This won’t mean much to Elliot yet, but it’ll make things more interesting for Greg and I.)
  • Google “story starters” (haven’t done this yet, but will).
  • Answer a question like “will it ever stop raining?” with a story.

So next time Elliot asks for a story, I’m hoping to not view it as a chore, but as an opportunity.

i don’t love yoga

Tuesday is yoga night for me, and for the first time ever I’m taking more than one session of yoga consecutively. All told I think I’ve taken about six different yoga classes over the past four years, but I’ve always stopped when the session is over. I’ve done pre-natal, post-natal and a couple of different kinds of classes that I can’t tell you about because I’m so ignorant about yoga that I don’t know what type they were.

A friend introduced me to Helga Beer when I was pregnant with Elliot. I couldn’t get in because her classes were full, but I ended up taking a pre-natal one with her when I was pregnant with Amy. It sucked. It was in the evening, I was exhausted, and I didn’t feel like moving at all. I attended sporadically. But it wasn’t Helga’s fault. I really liked her, so I tried a post-natal session after Amy was born, and enjoyed it. But then Amy started moving so post-natal wasn’t going to work, and then life got busy and yada, yada, yada.

Finally in September my hamstrings yelled loud enough about how tight they were, and I signed up for an eight week session, again with Helga. According to her website we do Hatha yoga, but she doesn’t focus a whole lot on specific poses. There are a handful we do, but most of the class seems to be about stretching and strengthening.

I decided to finally commit to doing yoga regularly and signed up for the next session, which started tonight. I have to say that I usually dread going. It would be easier if I went directly from work, but I come home, have dinner, get all into “at home” mode, and then have to go out again. She has several classes, but Tuesday night was the only one that really fit into the schedule.

Once I’m there it’s okay, but not fantastic. The 90 minutes goes by fairly slowly, and sometimes it feels like all I’m doing is yawning. I really like Helga’s style, I think it’s just yoga in general that I’m not wild about. But I know it’s good for me and I’m going to try to stick with it. I want to one day be able to touch my toes without bending my legs.

And tonight I had a thought. When I first started running I felt pretty ambivalent about it. I started running because it was an easy way to get exercise, and I ran for at least a year before I really started to enjoy it. So maybe it’ll come.

hiney flu

I know, I know, people are sick and tired of hearing about H1N1, but that’s my topic for today. There’s the silver lining of the pandemic — it’s giving me content for day two of NaBloPoMo. But I’m not going to rant and rage about all that’s been going on. Partly because I really don’t have that much to rant and rage about, and partly because I don’t feel like opening the door to any comments about what’s been going on. Because I’m sick and tired of hearing about it too.

Nope, today’s post is just about getting the kids vaccinated. (That decision in itself could open the door to some comments…but oh well.) After a bit of trouble finding out where the mass clinics were this week (and here I must commend whoever (whomever?) is responsible for the VanIslandHealth twitter account, as not only did they apologize for something I complained about, they fixed it very quickly), we headed up to UVic for their 9:00 clinic. We got there at about 8:45 and the line had about 200 people in it. Not too bad. At 9:00 it started moving, and seemed to be moving at a fairly steady pace. By 10:15 we were close to the door to the gym. It was sunny, there were lots of kids happily playing (this is the week for kids under five to get vaccinated), and there were bunnies to watch. And lots of camaraderie among the parents. As we got closer to the door, I was thinking that this had been a breeze.

Then we got in the gym. And it was PACKED. The line continued, back and forth, all the way through the gym. There must have been at least another 200 people inside. We spent 90 minutes outside in the sun and over two hours in a stuffy gym. As one guy commented, it was a sure way to pick up some sort of bug. There was little room for the kids to play, things moved very slowly, and Greg and I both started to wonder about the sanity of our plan. But we’d come this far.

The kids did remarkably well. There was food involved (provided by us, not VIHA!), including a chocolate croissant for Elliot. Let’s give him chocolate while he’s penned up with a bunch of other people. At one point a grandmother started reading a book to her two granddaughters and within minutes she had about 10 kids surrounding her, Elliot included. In general I was really impressed with how well all the kids did (and their parents).

At about 12:30 we were finally shepherded in to the room where the shots were actually taking place. We didn’t have to wait long there. Elliot went first while I walked around with Amy. He was a superstar. He cried only as the needle was pulled out, but quickly calmed down when we reminded him of the cookie that was waiting for him. More chocolate. Amy didn’t even flinch. We waited the recommended 15 minutes before leaving, and finally left at about 1:00. We were both planning to go back to work, but it wasn’t worth it for me. Not to mention I couldn’t have dropped the kids off as it was in the middle of nap time at daycare.

So we dropped Greg off at work and headed home. I was exhausted, so I lazed on the couch while Amy slept and Elliot watched TV.

The icing on the cake was at about 3:00 this afternoon when I got a call from my family doctor…asking if I wanted to bring the kids in for their H1N1 shots. ARGH! I had assumed that she wouldn’t have enough for them, so I hadn’t even bothered calling.

And watch…it’ll just be our luck that the kids will be exposed before the vaccination has time to take effect. But I’ll cross my fingers.

Oh, and our kids ROCK. Over four hours of waiting around doing pretty much nothing, only to have it end with a jab in the arm. They were awesome.

lame

It’s a little daunting to start a month of posting every day when I don’t feel very inspired on day one. I tried to think of a theme for the month, but nothing compelling has come to mind.

I could talk about what a great parent I am, as my three-year-old sits on his butt on this gorgeous day watching TV and crunching on a hard ball of sugar, otherwise known as a lollipop. We did go for a walk this morning, so it’s not all bad.

I could ponder why my daughter isn’t sleeping, when it’s an hour past her regular nap time.

But since this post is obviously going to be a bit lame, I’ll take up that thread and talk about how lame Hallowe’en was on our street. We didn’t take our kids out as Elliot has no interest in dressing up and Amy is too young to have a clue as to what is going on. So we had a nice Halloween dinner of squash soup and cornmeal muffins and waited for the trick-or-treaters. We had four great pumpkins outside, and some glo-sticks stuck in the ground. I was prepared for a fairly large amount of kids, as our street seems pretty good for getting candy. It’s quiet, and the houses are close together. I asked our neighbours how many kids they got last year, and they said 20 to 30. Okay, so not as many as I thought there’d be, but we were still prepared. (Meaning we had two boxes of Costco-sized candy.)

When I went out to light the pumpkins, I took a look up and down the street and realized I didn’t see any other pumpkins glowing. Hmmm…strange. By 6:30 we hadn’t had anyone come yet, but I attributed that to the time change and the fact that it wasn’t quite dark yet.

Fast forward two hours…and about a dozen candy collectors later. A dozen. TWELVE. Maybe fifteen. A friend of mine in Fernwood had TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY FIVE. This just doesn’t seem fair. I mean, it didn’t matter too much to me last night, but three years from now when Elliot finally realizes the connection between dressing up and getting sugar, we’re going to be taking the kids out here, and it’s going to be pretty depressing if all the houses we find are dark.

We appear to live on the Scrooge street of Halloween. And we have a LOT of candy to get rid of.

i’m writing this on my knees

There could be all sorts of titles for this blog post:

– then there’s the unpacking
– thank god i don’t have to post every day any more
– i need a light over my kitchen sink
– i need more drawers in my kitchen
– i need a bigger fridge
– it’s a lot quieter than Lampson street

You get the picture. I chose the one above because that’s my excuse for keeping this short. My 37-year-old knees won’t take a long post. I could also give a bunch of other excuses for keeping this short, but I won’t.

We slept in the new house last night for the first time, on clean sheets (sometimes I am on the ball). Amy was here too, and Elliot was still at Gramma’s. We all slept well, but the night went by too quickly. We needed some more down time!

I had an easier day today because I had Amy so I couldn’t do a lot, but Greg worked like a dog for about…well, 12 hours and counting, as he’s still at it.

One highlight of the day was our next door neighbors coming over to deliver some fresh-baked cookies and to welcome us. That’s never happened to me, and I almost started crying right in front of them. Because this house doesn’t feel like our home yet, and it won’t for a while, but if things like that keep happening then it won’t take long!

The other highlight was when I went to phone to order pizza. There was a message from a friend, offering us a home-cooked meal. All we had to do was go get it. Butter chicken and rice, and oh, was it ever good. We were so thankful. Again with the “this doesn’t feel like home” theme, the home cooking was such a better option than pizza. It was our first family dinner in the new house, and it felt special.

I said goodbye to the old house today with tears in my eyes. I went through each empty room and paused in the office (which was Elliot’s first room) and the kids’ room. Such a lot of wonderful memories. I had another pang of sadness as I was putting Elliot to bed tonight, thinking of all the times I’ve put him to bed in the old house. I know I will feel more at home soon, I go through this with every move, but it’s hard for right now.

I’m signing off. My knees hurt and there is a freakin’ mess waiting for me to wade through.

Here’s to a new beginning…a fitting end for my final NaBloPoMo post.

moving day

The movers are coming in 2.5 hours. I packed my tea thinking that I wouldn’t want a cup this morning, but I’m regretting it. A trip to Serious Coffee might be in order.

Amy woke up for a bit but is now back asleep, so we may be able to get some stuff done this morning.

My back is very sore and stiff and I’m wishing I had a better capacity for remembering my yoga poses. Although I’m not sure I’d take the time to do them this morning, even if I did remember them. I have a massage booked for Tuesday night, so I’ll get fixed up then.

I’m hoping we have a network connection tomorrow, because it’d really suck to miss the last day of NaBloPoMo because of technical difficulties. We’re leaching off of someone else’s connection this morning.

Over and out.

a bunch of lasts

A couple of nights ago Greg asked me if it felt weird that there were all sorts of things that were happening for the last time in this house, like the last time Elliot will sleep here (he’s going to Gramma’s tonight) and the last time the kids will sleep in the same room.

I hadn’t been thinking about it (my mind can only hold so many things), but now I have. It’s not just the house, too, it’s the things we do from or to the house. Like driving home along the “bump-bump” road, or walking to Macaulay Point.

Moving has always been a depressing time for me, as I say goodbye to all that is familiar and comfortable and say hello to, well, someone else’s house. At least I have recognized this about myself and can prepare for it. It doesn’t usually last very long, and I’m wondering if this time around, with two kids and Christmas to look forward to, if it’ll be a bit easier.

parenting two kids

Yesterday wasn’t my best day as a mother. I’m going to blame the fact that we’re moving in two days and I was trying to get stuff done while caring for two kids. This was frustrating me, and I took it out on the kids a couple of times. Well, let’s be honest here, I took it out on Elliot. Although Amy got a piece of it when I dropped a hard plastic toy on her head while I was trying to stop Elliot from pulling said toy away from her.

Anyway, the day is over, we survived and today’s going much better. Gramma is here so I was able to go to preschool with Elliot, sans Amy, which was nice for Elliot and me. Then we did a couple of errands and it was so easy just having one child.

Up until now, parenting two kids has been busy, but not very difficult from a how-to-handle-this perspective. Amy hasn’t been moving, and Elliot’s been pretty amazing with her. But now Amy is starting to get into things. She’s grabby, she pulls hair, she takes toys, and she (heaven forbid) touches Elliot. I’m already finding it difficult to mediate, and she isn’t even crawling yet. Yes, she’s too young to understand, but I don’t want her to wreak havoc on Elliot’s life.

I was thinking it’d be easier once they have two rooms, but that will only work if Elliot plays in his room on his own while Amy and I hang out in her room. That’s not a lot of fun for Elliot. Although I think I will instate the rule that toys he doesn’t want Amy to play with should stay in his room, and I can help ensure Amy doesn’t get into them.

As with everything so far, I supposed I’ll adapt to the upcoming changes. It’s never going to stop, this need to adapt. Not for a long time, anyway!

stainless steel would never work for me

I cleared the fridge this afternoon. For the past 15 years, my fridge has been an ever-changing photo album, always with pictures of people and dogs. A university roommate inspired me, and I’ve continued the tradition. I love it.

I love how when visitors come into my kitchen, they stop in front of the fridge, look, comment and ask questions. Many ask who people are, some ask why they haven’t made it to my fridge yet. 🙂

I love how every time I open the fridge, I see a face of someone I love.

I love how Elliot is now aware of the pictures and often asks to be picked up so he can look at them. We name our family members and friends.

I love the push pin-styled magnets that Greg got me for Christmas for two years running, making it so easy to move pictures around.

It’s a changing masterpiece. Whenever the mood strikes, I reorganize, get rid of old photos, make way for new ones, move some around. There are a few that never leave. Like the pictures of Barkley, Digger and Yoshi that are framed by dog-themed magnets. And the beautiful picture of my mother at my brother’s 1989 wedding. And the picture of my father when he was in his late teens.

I try to always have at least one picture of a few people: my son, my daughter, my goddaughter, my nephew. The rest are picked based on what pictures haven’t made it to my scrapbook, what Christmas pictures friends have sent, and what pictures I just plain love. I rarely print a picture specifically for the fridge. They just sort of appear. And there is never a shortage. I often wish I had a larger fridge.

Doing the fridge in the new house will be one of the first things I do, as it’ll be a big step toward making the new house feel like our home.