My daughter has always been independent (for the most part). Recently, she has unleashed that independence in the kitchen timed with a new-found desire to bake.
Normally, I might not encourage this desire of hers to bake and do it all herself, but I’ve been busy at work lately and it turns out that setting up some ingredients and letting her have at it can keep her busy for a couple of hours while I get some work done.
I’m blogging about our recent baking adventure over at This Mom Loves today. Pop on over and read all about it.
In case you’re new here and you don’t know me, I’m a working mom. I work from home in the mornings and at my office in the afternoons. This is to accommodate my daughter’s 1/2 day kindergarten schedule.
So, to accomplish any amount of work in the mornings, I have to find things that will occupy my daughter and limit the amount of time that I need to be involved. This is not my ideal situation. I would love to spend the morning with her, baking and colouring and playing with her dolls. But that’s not my life right now and so I must find things that she will enjoy and that don’t take up too much of my time.
Enter Crayola markers. Continue reading
My daughter makes her bed every morning. I mean every morning. If she doesn’t get to make it, she freaks out. If her brother tries to help her make it, she freaks out. If I do it before she gets to it, she freaks out.
I taught her how to make her bed. I asked her to do it every morning and gave her a star for about the first dozen times that she did it. But then we forgot about the chart and every other chore that went along with it and things returned to chaotic life.
Except the bed making. Continue reading
As I sit in my car at the school bus stop, waiting to pick up my daughter, my son screams repeatedly that he wants to “go in the seat”.
I can’t recall how it started, but it has been going on for about six minutes. (That might not seem like a long time to you, but please, allow me to trap you in a car on a freezing cold day with a screaming 3-year-old. Your perception of time will never be the same again.)
He has reduced himself to tears. He has had a coughing fit from screaming. I have tried cajoling him, distracting him, talking to him. Nothing works. He has resorted to alternating between a near deafening scream and the repeated mantra, “I wan go in yer seat!”
I had a headache when I picked him up at preschool. I have a migraine now.
And this afternoon started off with hugs and kisses.
What is a frazzled mom to do? Continue reading
My kids fight with each other. (What siblings don’t, really?) But put them in an unfamiliar environment, take them away from each other, or introduce something—anything—that is not part of their normal lives/routine/expectations and they become each others biggest supporters/protectors.
I find this re-assuring. If ever something were to happen to me or to their father, they have each other. And they will be there for each other. I appreciate their connection. I cherish their connection. I’m proud of their connection.
What I shouldn’t do (but I do it all the time) is underestimate their connection. Continue reading
Warning: This post contains information about a teaching method that some people/parents may find too severe.
It’s almost officially winter. It has been really cold on and off for about a month now. Because the weather isn’t consistent like it was when I was a kid, I find it hard to convince my kids that they need to dress warmly on a regular basis. Case in point, last week it was warm enough to be outside in shirt sleeves one day and the next day it was bitter cold. It can be confusing for kids. Continue reading
A profound sense of sadness wafts over me. I’m driving my daughter to school. It’s just before 1:00 pm. We are driving in silence.
She will be five tomorrow. I’m thinking back on the first five years of her life. The hope and excitement I felt as a new mom when we first brought her home. The overprotective, I-will-do-anything-to-keep-her-safe feeling that I felt as I lay curled around her in the dark each night. The fear I felt for my own safety as I crossed a busy, rainy street a short distance from our home on my first outing out of the house without her since her birth. What if I got hit by a car and lay dying on the wet road? Who would feed her? Who would love her like I do? Who would help her grow up into the beautiful woman I knew she would someday become? She would have her father, yes. But her mother would be gone. I kept my eyes peeled on the traffic coming toward me for the slightest indication that any driver in their cars on that rainy night might be unable to stop as they approached the cross walk. Continue reading
The inevitable nap happens in our house every day at 1:00 pm. If you are 3 years old and under, you can’t avoid it. So please don’t try.
Your kicking and screaming and stalling techniques are not new to me. Big Sister trained me well.
A snack, a trip to the potty, a drink, a different toy, another book; these are all old tricks. I might be swayed by an innovative approach to stalling, but only for a moment. I’ll stick to my plan to have you resting from the hours of 1 to 3. Continue reading
“OK, dinner’s ready,” calls my husband from the kitchen.
Big Sister remains glued to the couch like a statue, determined not to be the first at the dinner table.
Little Brother’s reaction? The other end of the spectrum. Continue reading