Calm before the Storm

The Christmas Rush is on it's last legs and I am slowly recovering from the associated post-traumatic stress disorder I suffer from.

Toys are being confiscated at the smallest squabble, all decorations have been removed from sight,  neglected or broken toys have been disposed of, sustained injuries are being left unattended, and I have resigned from Lego building duty.  Incidents of stress induced hives have diminished and I no longer have the Christmas furrow between my eyes.

Now, I just have to make it through Alexandra's 8th birthday. I am already getting a headache thinking about it. 

Wake Me When It's Over

The tree is up; the house is decorated, sort of; present shopping is almost complete; I have heard so many Christmas songs, I now hate them; and I have ranted at the people who go overboard with
Christmas lights. 

I am no longer frugal, but cheap.  I gave a woman what for when she tried to butt into a check-out line.  I shot a young man the evil eye after he ran into me with his cart and did not apologize.   I even told off a parking attendant who tried telling me that I was not old enough to have a handicap parking permit. 

I have turned into Scrooge. 

Pulling My Hair Out

I really wonder how small minds work. 

Why would a five year old think that urinating in a garbage is okay?  Why does my seven year old rip her toys to shreds when she is sent to her room?  What is it about one's brother that provokes a fist fight first thing in the morning?  Why is getting a hair cut harder than a trip to the dentist?  If you don't like your brother in your room, why should he let you in his?  Why is the aftermath of a time out worse than the original offense?  Did you really think I would not notice the empty sugar canister in your room?   You aren't the cause of all the Barbie's being decapitated?  I know you wrote your name on the wall, I can read it! You did touch the Christmas tree because it is no longer in the upright position.

AARGH!!!

Chicken #@%*

The last few days my kids have spent outside playing in the snow.

Today Curran was out twice.  He was attempting to best Alex in building a bigger snow fort.  Curran determined that he stood a better chance if he was to work on his fort while Alex was at school.

He was having a grand old time, right up until the moment the neighbors' dogs noticed him and started to bark and cause a ruckus.  He came screeching back into the house all freaked out that the dogs were going to get him. 

So much for him completing his snow fort.  Maybe tomorrow he will remember that there is a six foot fence between him and the dogs. 

Don't Tell Dad

Most of us Saskatchewanians woke up to snow yesterday morning.  My son looked out his window and hollered, "It's Christmas and we forgot to buy presents!" I am still chuckling. Note to self; next year, don't relate snow to Christmas, way too confusing for small children.

I was able to keep him from adventuring into the backyard until just after lunch today.  He is always given detailed instructions to remain in the backyard, stay out of the wood pile, return my shovel to where he got it from, no throwing snow at the back door and stay in the backyard; repeat stay in the backyard.  Needless to say, he does not follow directions well. 

He was out there for almost an hour.  He made a race track, a snow monster, snow angels, cleaned off the deck, raided the wood pile, buried my snow shovel and was caught red handed out of the backyard.

I check on him at 5 minute intervals, but I need to install one of those electric shock fences for dogs to keep him in the back yard.  He was caught in the back of his dad's "special" truck that sits in our driveway.  Instead of getting out of it over the tailgate, he thought he should get out the same way he got in.  Over the cab, across the sunroof, down the windshield, across the hood and climb down the pallet leaning against the front grill. 

A few lessons were learned today.  You cannot hide the evidence of your miss doings when there is fresh snow.  Going back the same way you came is not always the smart way out of a sticky situation.   Curran needs his own shovel to lose in the snow and a Curran proof latch needs installed on the back gate.

Sugar Bugs

Brushing our teeth does not rate as a favorite past time with my kids and since it was Halloween yesterday, last night was even more of a struggle than usual.

Alexandra is usually really good about brushing her teeth.  She is quite content to use whichever toothpaste happens to be available and brushes for her two minutes.  Spitting the tooth paste out, now that is a bit of a problem.  Not because she swallows it, but because she can't spit.  She sort of hisses like a cat and sticks her tongue out. She also lost all her top and bottom front teeth within a couple weeks of each other when she was in Kindergarten, and according to Grandpa Farm, who has dentures, teeth make spitting toothpaste much easier.  Now, that her teeth have grown in, one would think that spitting would come naturally; but no.

Curran on the other hand, he figured out how to spit toothpaste right away.  He spits it out as soon as that toothpaste hits his mouth; he despises any and all toothpastes, even the ones he can swallow.  Let's hope that there is enough residual toothpaste on his toothbrush to be effective.

Last night I made them brush their teeth really, really good and you could tell by my sink.  There were pools of toothpaste dribble on the vanity and down the side of the sink from Alex; and there were large gobs of toothpaste stuck to the bottom of the sink from Curran spitting the toothpaste out too soon.  Next on my agenda is teaching the kids to remember to rinse the sink after they are done. 

Autumnal Equinox

Since before I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, I have always had severe joint flareups when the seasons change. 

It is sort of like a light switch goes on in my body and most of my joints decide to become inflamed and hurt like the blazes; literally they feel like they are on fire.  I have stiffness in mainly my hands, elbows, knees, and feet which make most day to day activities difficult to perform.  Luckily, I have been able to make adjustments on how I do most things so that they still get done, just a little slower. 

The change in temperature and humidity seem to bother me the most.  I would like the weather to either be always warm, or always cold.  Cold and rainy one day, hot and humid the next or 30 above during the day dropping to 10 above at night; it is like playing craps at a casino, I never know what to expect with my body.  For example, the other day I baked cookies, went up and down the basement stairs a half dozen times, scrubbed the bathroom top to bottom and felt pretty good.  Today, I can hardly bend one knee, the joints in my fingers are locking up, and I am so fatigued I am heading for a nap as soon as I am finished this blog. 

Even with the temperamental weather, this has been a really good year for me.  I haven't felt this "good" for 14 years.  Sure I have progressive degenerative joint damage and I still have nasty flareups, but a new doctor and a new medication regime seems to have made a huge improvement to the progression and the intensity of this disease.  Overall, my daily pain and discomfort has diminished and I can do so much more and be more active with my kids. 

Fall is now upon us and as I dread the snow banks, the icy roads, and the blizzards that are inevitably coming; my joints are looking forward to the bitter cold and the relief that comes with it. 

'Tis the Season

After spending this past week in bed with pneumonia, I figured that Curran and I needed to get out of the house; even if only to stock up on cold meds and do some window shopping. 

Curran found his most favorite store in the "biggest whole planet",  The John Deere Store. We walked around every display multiple times; we decided on which "farm" hat would be best for Grandpa; we checked out all of the clothes that he needed to buy to wear to school; and we spent 20 minutes staring at the wall of tractors to see which tractors we already had.  I am certain that we were the highlight of the sales lady's day; we were in there for well over a half hour and I bought NOTHING!

I needed to go to his second favorite store in the "biggest whole planet", Peavy Mart.  I went in to find a part and we were in there for 45 minutes.  Guess what they have at Peavy Mart?  Toys! Three isles of tractors, farm machinery,and farm animals. Curran's eyes glazed over and he got this quirky grin on his face. I am pretty sure he suffered a minor bout of tractor overload, it was when he was in this happy state that we left the store. 

Christmas shopping this year should be pretty easy, he has started on his list already.  It will be really easy for Grandpa to remember what is on it; one of everything farm related. 

The Gift of Children

Having an autoimmune disease, I try to be very cautious in cold and flu season.  However, there are times when precautions just don't work.

Alexandra is always the first one in the house to get sick.  Probably because she chews her fingernails and her fingers are always in her mouth, or the fact that she doesn't wear all of the clothes I send her to school with at recess.  But I am just her mother and like all mothers, I know nothing. 

Curran usually catches whatever his sister has come down with.  This child is so much of  a germ-a-phobe he hates wiping his runny nose for fear of getting his hands snotty and wants a clean shirt every time he coughs or sneezes into his elbow.  I think he is going to end up being a kid with a fanny pack full of antibacterial wipes and hand sanitizer. 

It never fails, when both of these two kids are sick.  They want to be near me; okay not just near, but touching me at all times.  If I want them to have a sleep, I need to lay down with them.  If I want to watch TV or read a book, they are fighting over who gets to sit on which knee.  I have yet to figure out how to avoid catching whatever they have.  No amount of lysol, air filters, or antibacterial soap seems to work; I even tried face masks once. Unfortunately, being on immuno-suppressants is like a guarantee that I will catch what everyone else has. 

On days like today, I look forward to the time when my children want nothing to do with me.  Maybe then they won't make me sick.

I'm Bored

In my house I have tried to install the Make Your Own Fun motto.  There are toys, movies, colouring books, games, books, music and of course, each other to keep them entertained.  I do not find it necessary to be constantly going somewhere or having play dates to keep the kids happy.  Unfortunately, today was not Curran's day.  He was bored.

There was a rodeo on the floor of his bedroom, a tent over the couch, a movie theatre in my bedroom, a farm in front of the television, crayons and colouring books all over the kitchen table, a marshmallow monster on the counter, a pirate ship in the bathtub, a ball game outside, and a race car track on the stairs.  It is only just noon.

I have not yet figured out what "fun" I can create with him this afternoon.  However, I do know I will not have fun convincing him to clean up his boredom. 

Little Helpers

In my parents' house there was this saying;  you have food to eat, a roof over your head, a bed to sleep in and clothes to wear, get off your butt and help out.  This applies in my house as well, although sometimes I would rather do things myself. 

Both of my little ones like to help out in the kitchen; adding ingredients to a recipe, making bubble mountains in the sink and licking off the beaters.  Today Curran tried using the can opener.  He couldn't get the can opener to latch onto the can properly, it kept spinning around on him.  He figured out that he needed two hands to work the can opener but that he also needed a hand to hold the can itself.  I was not to help, apparently he is a big boy and big boys don't need help. This big boy is a smart one.  He ended up sitting on the counter, holding the can opener with one hand, spinning the tumbler with the other, and keeping the can steady between his two feet. 

Next time I will be in charge of the can opener, because as Alex kindly reminded us.  Counters are made for glasses not ... and definitely not stinky feet.

When It Rains It Pours

There are days where it seems like nothing is going in my favor.  I know we all have them, but because I am awake at 4AM, I am claiming the last 24 hours as mine.

I woke up to rain, no big deal, just deck the kids out in rain gear and go on with the day. Or so I thought.  After sending the kids and Sean off this morning, I put in a load of laundry, took my morning meds, cleaned up breakfast dishes, and had a shower.  It all went downhill after that.

Our dryer is on the blink, has been since June. Luckily there was a spare available from back in my single lady days; unfortunately, that one too decided to go on the fritz.  Three hours to dry one load of laundry.  The clothes in the middle just wouldn't dry; I couldn't take the dry ones out because not a single item was thoroughly dry; no matter what I did to mix up the load, it seemed that only the outside edges of it would dry; and the dryer was only half full in the first place.  What really made me mad though, was that the next load only took half the usual time to dry. 

With Curran still getting used to the routine and Alexandra's tendency to come home wetter than it is outside, I picked the kids up from school.  They were fighting before I got back into the vehicle.  The school kept them inside at recess today and they were obviously burning off all their excess energy by beating on each other.  I do mean beating;  fists flailing, hair pulling, legs kicking, and teeth biting beating.  There was crying, screaming, toy throwing, and doors slamming.   I briefly thought about sending them outside to cool off; until I remembered that I would need to use the dryer when they came back in.  They both probably accrued over an hour in time outs before Sean got home from work. 

Rain and I are not the best of friends, we never have been.  I don't know if it is the change in barometric pressure or the humidity, but my arthritis is worse on rainy days.  In order to try to alleviate some of my extra aches and pains, I take some more medication.  More medication means more side effects.  It is hard to say which is worse; the pain and fatigue of the disease, or the medications that I take for it.

I am exhausted, the laundry is caught up, the children are sleeping like angels, and I am optimistic that this downpour will be over by morning. 



 

 

Always Check the Pockets

My mother taught me to always check pockets while doing laundry; however, I don't think she would have expected to find what I have.

Alexandra and Curran, like most children, love the outdoors and all that it encompasses.  They like to dig in the sandbox, putter in the garden, and climb the trees.  Alex has caught garter snakes and frogs, as well as, numerous grasshoppers and beetles.  Unlike Curran, who is definitely a kid who likes to look but not touch, he is quite OCD when it comes to getting his hands dirty. 

This morning he goes outside to play in the sandbox and discovers a frog.  He wanted to go get Alex from school so she could catch it and remove it from the sandbox so he could play. Mr. Frog decided to leave the sandbox willingly, but as soon as he disappeared Curran decided that we should have kept him for a pet.

Curran's want of keeping the frog reminded me of Alexandra's multiple rescue attempts this spring and summer.  She wasn't rescuing frogs though, she was rescuing worms.  You know how after it rains and the worms come out onto the streets and pavement; my daughter would gather as many worms as she could on the walk home from school and smuggle them inside.  I have found them in shoe boxes, jewelry boxes, ziplock bags, and even her pockets. 

I have decided to start preparing for winter, and as I gather the summer jackets for washing, I am more than a little cautious about what treasures I will find when I check the pockets.

My Crazy Life

After numerous suggestions about starting a blog or writing a book about the daily adventures that occur in my household, I have decided to take the plunge.  With Curran's crazy antics, Alexandra's quick comebacks, and my never ending struggle with arthritis, there is never a dull moment in my crazy life. 

This morning is a prime example.  Shortly after crawling into the shower this morning I hear the death screech, you know the one that sounds like two tom cats fighting it out for territorial rights.  I dash out of the shower, dripping water all over the floor and discover Curran chasing Alexandra with a table knife.  "Why?" you ask.  Well I presented that same question to my son.  His reply was, "It was only a joke."  After a lengthy time out and a discussion on the potential consequences of chasing someone with a knife, I was still no farther ahead in determining what in fact provoked the knife incident.  The wronged child in all of this is remaining suspiciously quiet on the subject; probably to avoid punishment herself.  

I did get to finish my shower, only a half hour later; the floor got partially mopped; and my son now knows not to chase someone with a knife.  My life can be a little crazy, but at least it's not dull.