Thornton Wilder

Does anyone else feel as though they need a holiday to recuperate after a holiday?  We went ‘away’ for the long weekend.  We only drove 10 kms to my parents’ beach [...]]]> “We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”

Thornton Wilder

Does anyone else feel as though they need a holiday to recuperate after a holiday?  We went ‘away’ for the long weekend.  We only drove 10 kms to my parents’ beach house, but let’s face it, packing for a weekend away from home is the same no matter what the distance; you still require an extraordinary amount of gear!  The ‘pack and play’ for Fig to sleep in, the high-chair, the dog’s bed and food, the bikes, the toys, books and games, the outer-garments for all weather, the favourite blanket, the plastic dishes, the footwear for all weather…you know the drill.  (F.Y.I. the only items that were forgotten were my underwear.  Nice.)

We seem to get hit the hardest in the SLEEP department when we’re away from home.  On the day of our departure, Fig missed her nap completely for the first time in her life and she never quite recovered.  She fussed at the drop of a hat for the better part of three days.  Pip had trouble falling asleep each night, but once she was out, she filled her eleven-hour quota without a problem.

We hosted Thanksgiving dinner out a the beach house; everyone pitched in and cooked a dish or two, so the evening was definitely a team-effort, but my husband and I marveled at how fatigued we felt after our gathering of seventeen had dispersed.

All in all, it seemed as though the ratio of ‘preparation for fun’ to ‘actual fun’ was way out of whack.  Maybe that’s just the way life is: good things take some effort.  When I think to myself, was it worth it?  The hours of laundering, packing, unpacking, packing, unpacking and laundering again?  The increased sleep deprivation?  The cranky baby?  The answer is: of course it was worth it!!   For starters, we had our first family beach-fire  and sang ‘The ants go marching…’ as the crackling fire met the crisp, fall air.  The next day, six happy children ate Thanksgiving dinner together, then retired to the family-room for some ‘ring-around-the-rosy’ fun.  And how cool was it that my daughter could look ahead down a beautiful forest path and see her two Grandmothers and her dad walking together?  Pretty cool.

When my mother-in-law was packing up Monday to head back to her home-town, Pip reassured her, “Don’t worry Grandma, we’ll have another one of these ‘Thank’ days again soon.”

I’m all for it.

Diane Ackerman

A load of laundry was left, forgotten, in the washing machine.  I can’t even tell you exactly how long it stewed in the [...]]]> “Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains.”

Diane Ackerman

A load of laundry was left, forgotten, in the washing machine.  I can’t even tell you exactly how long it stewed in the moist basin, but it was certainly left overnight.  When I discovered it, a faint odor of sweaty socks rose to my nostrils.  It was at that moment that I asked myself the critical question; do I run the wash again or do I throw everything into the dryer with a fabric softener and hope for the best?  I opted for the latter.  I had a load of whites ready to roll and I wasn’t about to waste water on a second run of the slightly-smelly clothes.  Into the dryer they flew.

Believe it or not, when it came time to fold the laundry, I’d forgotten the potential stink-factor of the first load.  I was watching a t.v. show in the evening and folding clothes at the same time.  The kids were in bed, my husband was outside working in his shop, and as the subtle smell of hockey-gloves wafted up into my nostrils, I was faced with yet another choice.  Do I run these DRY clothes through the wash again because they have a faint odor, or do I fold them, put them away and hope for the best?  I considered the content; mostly pajamas and underwear.  No problemo.  Surely the smell would disappear in a day or two.

Cut to the following night, bath-time.  My husband and I were each drying a daughter, and both girls smelled their usual,  beautiful, fresh, clean scent.  I opened a drawer to pull out pajamas for Fig and passed them to my husband.  He immediately drew the p.j.’s  to his nose and took a long, deep whiff.  ”Wow.  What’s that smell?”

I was busted.  I explained the whole scenario to Big Daddy-O…poor decisions number one and two resulting in stinky pajamas and assorted undergarments.  (I warned him to check his undies before he put them on in the morning.)  He just shrugged and said, “Oh well.”  I appreciated his lack of judgement.

Ten minutes later I found myself upstairs in the dark, nursing a gym-bag.  Fig felt the same, but she definitely didn’t smell the same.  I couldn’t wait to leave the room.  The thought that kept going through my mind was, “I hope that Fig isn’t so repulsed by her own scent that she can’t get to sleep.”

Lesson learned.  When in doubt; re-wash.

Henry Ford

Last month I wrote about Pip helping out with chores around the house.  I posted photos of her folding laundry, rolling pizza dough and stacking wood.  I did not, however, include any information about our little Fig, who [...]]]> “Coming together is a beginning.  Keeping together is progress.  Working together is success.”

Henry Ford

Last month I wrote about Pip helping out with chores around the house.  I posted photos of her folding laundry, rolling pizza dough and stacking wood.  I did not, however, include any information about our little Fig, who also likes to help around the house.

At the tender age of 18 months, Fig basically wants to do everything that her big sister does.  When Pip says, “Mama, watch this,” and performs a tricky little dance maneuver, Fig then says, “Mama, itch!” and twirls around as best she can.

The same is true for household chores; when Fig sees her big sister helping out with a job, she dives right in too!  The difference is, Fig doesn’t really help, she makes more work for me in the long run.  Her version of folding laundry, for example, is taking the clean laundry out of the basket,  piling it in a heap, and giving the pile of clothes a nice little pat.

Corn-husking is another of Fig’s  favourite jobs, and although she is fairly productive, she makes an incredible mess.  Husking, therefore, is solely an outdoor activity.

We’re encouraging Fig to help out nonetheless, because one day in the not-too-distant future, she will indeed be more of a help than a hinderance.

G.K. Chesterton

You’re not going to believe this, but I had an epiphany yesterday while I was on my hands and knees, dish-rag in hand, cleaning the floor underneath Fig’s high-chair after a [...]]]> “I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought; and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.”

G.K. Chesterton

You’re not going to believe this, but I had an epiphany yesterday while I was on my hands and knees, dish-rag in hand, cleaning the floor underneath Fig’s high-chair after a dinner that included rice.

My first thought was along the lines of, “I feel like I’m cleaning up messes ALL DAY LONG…” and then I stopped myself.  Right then and there, mid-wipe, I flashed back to the days when I was NOT cleaning up other people’s messes, I was living by myself in my little condo in the city.  And I was alone.  At that point in my life, I was thirty-seven, newly single and I wondered if I would ever find a partner with whom I would feel such a deep connection, that we would raise a family together.

I smiled.  I even got a little choked-up, and I continued to clean up the rice.

Thomas Edison

When I find myself drowning in the deep sea of household chores, I marvel at the fact that, in the fourth grade, I envied my best friend Nadine because she had chores.  In my eyes, Nadine’s chores gave her a status of import; [...]]]> “Genius is one-percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.”

Thomas Edison

When I find myself drowning in the deep sea of household chores, I marvel at the fact that, in the fourth grade, I envied my best friend Nadine because she had chores.  In my eyes, Nadine’s chores gave her a status of import; it was as though her family couldn’t survive without her contributions to the running of the household.

When I was growing up, we didn’t have chores.  I looked after my siblings, (who were five and seven years my junior,) but there were no regular jobs that were designated to me.  I’ll have to confer with my mom, but I seem to remember her saying that her kids would be doing enough housework in later years, so she decided to spare us.  And I love her for that.  I had an amazing childhood, and I was taught about responsibility through caring for my brother and sister.  I can’t cook and I don’t know how to get sap out of clothes, but I’m good with kids.

I like my brother-in-law’s philosophy that was handed down to him by his parents.  He said that his mom and dad told him that his first job was school, but he definitely learned the value of hard work as a boy.  So did my husband.  I believe that he was born in the wrong era though.  You see, I married Charles Ingalls, and our backyard reminds people of Little House on the Prairie.  We have a wood shed, a workshop, a rain barrel and a compost.  Big Daddy-O would look right at home pulling into our yard with a horse-drawn wagon.  He loves working outdoors, and when he’s in that element, he’s the hardest worker I’ve ever encountered.

Needless to say, he believes in giving children chores, and I’m with him.  Especially when I see how much Pip LOVES working alongside us.

Here are just a few of the jobs she was given this past week:

Rolling out the pizza dough,

Folding laundry,

and her favourite…stacking kindling with her dad.  This is all I saw of Pip when I first went outside:

Pip was improvising with my gardening gloves,

and making them work for her!

But we quickly changed to winter gloves that fit her hands better.  Has anyone out there seen kids’ work gloves?

It looks like Pip might take after her dad.

They were both grinning the entire time.

Chores aren’t just about teaching responsibility.  Kids learn skills, they feel a sense of purpose and accomplishment, and oftentimes, they get to spend quality-time with mom or dad.  What could be better than that?

It’s so important to have conversations with parents who are not of your generation.  I was at a function and found myself talking to two people in their sixties, who were both stay-at-home parents in their early twenties.  They had asked what I [...]]]> “Housework, if you do it right, will kill you.”
Erma Bombeck

It’s so important to have conversations with parents who are not of your generation.  I was at a function and found myself talking to two people in their sixties, who were both stay-at-home parents in their early twenties.  They had asked what I was up to and I told them about this site.

The woman, I’ll call her Sally, said that when she was a mom it was all about ’survival.’  There wasn’t a lot of time for reflection, or even just enjoying her kids.  There was always so much to ‘do.’  Some things never change, do they?  I think all moms can agree that there’s always something else ‘to do.’  Juggling work, child-care, relationships with your husband, family, friends, exercise, and housework is a universal challenge for moms.  What Sally seemed to be implying though, is that all of the ’stuff’ shouldn’t have been as important as being with her kids.

Her words were reassuring.  I’ll be honest with you, I have a dirty house pretty much all of the time.  Things are usually tidy, but with two kids, three pets, and a sandbox in the backyard, our floors can get pretty scary.   When it comes right down to it, I would much prefer to make a craft with Pip than sweep and mop the floors every day, so that’s what I do.  And that’s what Pip is going to remember about being a kid.  Not that her mom had a clean house, but that her mom painted rocks with her.

The gentleman I was talking to at the party, whom I’ll call Tom, said that there weren’t as many resources for parents in his day; there weren’t any books that he had read, and people didn’t really converse about parenting as we do now.  He said that love and patience was the basis for his parenting though, and that held him in pretty good stead.   “I mean,” said Tom, “all of my kids are grown and they still like to hang out with me, so I think that’s a pretty good sign.”  I agree, Tom.  It’s a great sign.