Peace at Algonquin Park – Wordless Wednesday

Slacker … and Other Things

I can admit it, I’ve been a slacker.  Life somehow occupied me to the extent that as of late I haven’t had time – or felt like – blogging.  I refuse to feel guilty about it, because this is a no pressure blog.  It’s supposed to be anyway.

So, yeah, no guilt.

But what’s the tickle?

Shit, it’s guilt.

Lets face it, once a person starts writing a blog, said person feels some sort of universal obligation to keep writing on it.  I mean, if we didn’t write, then what’s the bloody point?  Here’s what has been keeping me busy.  Kids.  First and foremost.  It’s been a busy couple of weeks.

The good new is that Ethan is 100% potty trained.  He has been going on the potty for quite some time now, but it has never been 100%.  I count 100% as the moment he realises each and every time he needs to do his business.  We’ve had clean pants 100% of the time for over a week now and I haven’t had to say “Hey man, it’s time to pee.”  He just goes.  This is a proud moment in every mother’s life.

The bad news.  Apparently my parenting skills are lacking discipline.  Who knew?  Certainly not me.  So, here’s the thing.  My lovely daughter, who is, yes, strong willed, and yes, very smart, and most definitely a seven year old, has been acting up at school.  Know what the school told me?  She is lacking discipline.

Anyone who knows me is reading this and shitting their pants from the shock of it.  Really?  My house undisciplined?  That’s laughable. And I’m not just saying that because I feel my household needs to be defended.

I’ve been telling the school for three (count ‘em 1-2-3) years they need to never give in to Lily.  She cannot be bargained with.  She cannot be bribed.  If you give her an inch she will take a mile and then come back wanting another.  I’ve talked to them and they ask me to talk to her.  I talk to her, she knows the rules.  She follows the rules everywhere else in her life.  Everywhere. In school, because they pat her on the head when she misbehaves, she thinks they’re not serious about enforcing the rules.  Seriously, I cannot enforce those rules for them.  I wish I could because it would make MY life a hell of a lot easier, but I can’t.  It’s like they’ve taken a puppy who is completely smart and trainable and given him a treat each and every time he pees on the carpet.  What’s that going to teach him?  You got it.  It’s going to teach him that peeing on the carpet gets a reward.  I can talk to Lily until I’m blue in the face, but until they start making her accountable at school she won’t start listening to them.  She does have her good days, but I never get a call or email from them saying “Lily had a great day” I only ever hear about the bad stuff.

Needless to say, I’ve been working on this.

On the work front the eZine I work for has been busy.  If you don’t know, it’s called Outdoor Adventure Canada (OAC).  A few weeks ago (Jan 31st to be precise) there was a big news story to hit the airwaves.  It was about a dog sledding company in British Columbia who slaughtered 100 dogs because after the Olympics the company could no longer afford to keep on as many dogs as they had … Or whatever excuse they’re giving.  Unfortunately for OAC the name of the dog sledding company (which is approximately 4500 km away) is Outdoor Adventures Whistler.  OAC is not affiliated in any way to that company.  The only thing we have in common is a similar business name, but that didn’t stop the hate mail.  Threatening and hurtful emails by the hundreds.  Phone calls to the office telling us how horrible we are.  It was a mess caused  by the fact that people are blind when they are outraged.  So blind, in fact, that even after we put a media release up on the front page of the eZine and on the contact page, people were skipping it and sending us horrid emails anyway.  We had to have a Facebook page shut down.  It was based out of Italy and they had my (work) email address posted front and center and even though I don’t speak Italian, the loose translation was “this is the person who massacred the dogs, email her.”  We had emails from Guam, Sweden, Italy, Australia, England, the US and Canada.  Thankfully this case of mistaken identity has been straightened out and thankfully, from the support of some media outlets, our name has been cleared.  Click here and here for related articles.

You hear about people getting hate mail all the time, but you don’t know what it does to a person’s spirit to get it until you’ve experienced it to the full extent.  It’s a terrible feeling.

I have also been doing Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred, but that’s another story for another day.

If you’re still reading after all the rambling in the post above, I thank you.

Age and Snow Pants

This morning as my two older kids were piling on their winter gear for the trek to their school I had a flashback of myself as a child of around the same age and how much I loathed my snow pants. Oh how I loathed them. Especially on days when I had to wear a dress, though I don’t know which was worse, a dress in snow pants or the saggy crotch of the leotards that were just a little too short in the legs, but I digress …

It generally takes some prodding to get Owen and Lily to put their snow pants on. Yesterday Lily tried to sneak not putting them on and I made her take her backpack, coat and boots off and start from scratch. Today as Owen slowly put one leg in and then the other he complained about how long it takes to get them on, and then I said it like only a mother can …

Me: “If you don’t wear them you’ll freeze to death and then what will you do?”

Owen: “But it takes so long to put them on and eats up my recess time! Like half of it!”

Me: “Too bad. And you might want to try putting them over your boots properly so snow doesn’t get in,”

Owen: “I don’t care if snow gets in my boots, I’ll be fine.”

Me: “You won’t be fine if your feet fall off from the cold.”

What? Me? Prompting people to wear winter gear? Properly!?! This can’t be right. I’m the girl who only bought a pair of winter boots (the first in over a decade) about 3 years ago. I’m the girl who, in high school, figured wearing a leather jacket and a pair of earmuffs was enough coverage for -20°C weather. I’m the girl who bought a parka (for you non-Canadians, that’s a winter coat) just to set a good example for the kids – and then realised a good winter coat makes a difference. I’m the girl who loathed snow pants.

Loathed. Past tense.

I don’t know if it comes with age or because I’m a mother or because I have a massive driveway that needs to be shoveled frequently in the winter, or simply because when I go outside I don’t want to be a popsicle, but I have found myself looking at new snow pants.

Like to buy. For me.

My parents were right. Please don’t tell them.

The Book Fair

My daughter and son announced to me the book fair is at their school and could they please (pretty please with sugar on top) each buy a book.  Books, HELL yes.

Owen (my son, you know, the responsible almost nine year old) was put in charge of the money. He knew which book he wanted and that it was six bucks.  Lily (my middle child and only daughter who is lovely and seven, but not so responsible) knew which book she might want but didn’t have enough money. I sent them with fifteen dollars and instructions to buy the books they wanted and only the books they wanted. One book each. Nothing more. I wanted change.

Fifteen dollars isn’t a lot of money, but handing fifteen dollars over to a couple kids headed towards a school that is currently selling two dollar chocolate bars for fundraising feels a little dangerous to me.

But I trusted them.

I mean, they had clear instructions.

They arrived home from school around 3:30 just as they do every afternoon.  After they had stripped off their snowsuits and finished talking over each other about how their day went I asked them about the books and is there any change …

Owen spoke first, glancing at his sister: “There’s only a dollar, but that’s because she bought something for you.”

Lily glared at him, “NO, I bought something for Billie, she’s my best friend and I can’t go to her birthday party.”

This is the first I’ve heard of any birthday party.

I’ll admit, I was a bit ticked.

What part of the clear instructions didn’t they understand?  Buy one book each and nothing more.  And I WANT CHANGE.

They looked at me and the fact I was ticked must have been seeping out of my pores, because they looked panicked.  I asked them if they had understood the clear instructions.  They said yes.  I asked them how much the supposed gift for Billie cost (and when the hell was this party Lily had missed … apparently it was months ago).  They said three dollars.  I said “okay, you owe me three bucks.”

Lily started bawling.

Now I’m feeling bad.

Owen said “I tried to stop her, but she sneaked it in!”   Um dude, who was in charge of the money?  Yup, it was you.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t about the money.  I don’t care about the money.  This is about the life lesson.  You don’t spend money that doesn’t belong to you even if you have permission to spend some of it.  You don’t buy three things when you were only supposed to buy two.

Anyway, so we had a chat which ended with Lily telling me she doesn’t deserve anything and that she should be grounded for life (yes, she’s dramatic, I know).  I told them I understood and that it was nice of Lily to think of Billie, but that they’d have to pay me back.  Owen headed downstairs to look for his half of the funds.

Then I had an idea.

A motherly idea.

I have been trying for two weeks to get Lily to clean her room.  (Did I mention she’s the messy one too?  Oh Lily, I love you, but neatness is not your strong suit.)  I told her I’d wipe the slate clean and we’d be even and they wouldn’t have to pay me …

We’re officially even.  Guess how long it took her to clean her room? ;)