Why is it?

Why is it that when things are going according to plan in life you try not to veer off route? But, when things don't go according to plan or we get lost so to speak we are looking all the map for a new route. Why is easy just so darn easy?

The things in life that I wish I had the most control over are infact the things I have the least control of. Maybe that is why I never feel "in control".

I just sometimes wish I could know what was going on and make a plan and we could stick to the plan.

Its like this baby. I wanted to know the gender. Mostly so I could prepare... name, nursery, and just...well... know. Of course the ultra sound tech couldn't tell. Its just one of those things. I know that there is a reason I don't know and I know with patience and time we will know. I mean the baby IS going tobe born like it or not and that day we will have a definate answer. But until then I will just be so bitter and it will eat me alive that we couldn't find out the sex. And I know that when the baby is 3 months, 3 years or 30 years I will look back and (probably) think something like "gee I am so glad we didn't know for blablabla reason". But it doesn't stop me now from wanting to know.

I guess somewhere along the path of life I have to just suck it up and hand control over to God and realize that I have such little power over my own life. Why is it such a hard acceptance?

Help Wanted - Please Apply Within

It is that time of life. Five years ago when Big Daddy told me he was quitting his job to pursue a university education never in my wildest dreams did I expect to actually be here five years later at the end of the tunnel. It seems like yesterday that I was pregnant with Joseph and we were making all of these life changes. Why is it that looking down the road that you need to travel is so intimidating and looks so long, but when you turn back and look where you've come from it is so easy to think "hey, that wasn't too bad".

But alas, the time has come and convocation is near. It is the time when Big Daddy has to dip his toe into the pool of reality and job hunt. Well, in all honesty due to our self created circumstances he needs to cannon ball into reality. Resume after resume has been printed, tweaked and mailed. It is a process.

Big Daddy and I are pretty open and honest with our kids about things or at least try to be, without crossing that fine line and providing too much information. But the boys know that Big Daddy is as they say "granduating" and is much need of a job. Joseph is happy to comply. He is in deep search for Big Daddy's employment opportunities, that have Joseph's best interest in mind. Joseph has recommended Wal-Mart, because they have lots of toys, McDonald's, and SaskTel. Yesterday we were at Burger King for lunch and he looks up and says to me "Does Burger King work on Saturdays and Sundays?" my reply "Yes Joseph". "Oh, I guess Daddy can't work here then" was his reply.

I guess over the last five years both Big Daddy and Joseph have learnt something. They have both learnt that the kind of job Big Daddy wants. That is one where Saturdays and Sundays are non-work days.

At this point in time I have neither the patience or the time to explain "salary" and "over-time" to either of them. But I have a pretty good idea that over the next year or two, the two of them will figure it out on their own without my guidance.

Wish us all luck on the job hunt.

Fine Lines

I think one of the hardest parts of being a parent (for me anyways) are the fine lines. Continually situations arise where you can make choices on your child rearing and somewhere amongst that choice is a fine line... but the hard part is finding it. It is like some absurd game of Where's Waldo.

Coming to mind as far as lines go is "telling". Joseph got hurt the other day and he didn't say anything to Big Daddy or myself until bed time when we saw the wound and I had to clean it out. When I inquired what had happened he told me and it sounded fairly innocent. But his concern was that he was hurt by his friend. Well, he says he didn't want to tell us he was hurt because he didn't want his friend to get into trouble. Trouble or not... if your hurt I need to know. But, the fine line is where does it end on what I need to know? I have found myself on more than one occasion when Joseph has come to tell me something that I feel he is being a tattle-tale. But how do you explain the difference in five year old terms? Or even moreso, when incedents occur to what degree is up to them to work it out themselves. Is a plain old... you see blood, you tell Mom...no blood, keep trucking? Fine line.

I think it is all these stresses of wanting to raise my boys to be the best possible people they can be which is causing me to notice each day more fine lines on my face. Or is that just "character"?

Poop Soup?

Disclaimer: This post talks about poop, if your queasy it might just be best to pass this one by.

I often wonder what goes through their heads. Now that Joseph is a little older he can explain it a little. Trent however, still can't express into words what he really was thinking. But over the course of the last few months and our various "poopcidents" I have to conclude that he was solely thinking that he best clean up the mess he's just made. I can't get even close to angry at the boy because in all cases that is what he's doing is "keenin up" as he'd say. So, ce la vie.

As much as I say ce la vie, life with poop goes on and in the moment of shock I am always a little taken aback before I can absorb what I am really seeing. Big Daddy and I are usually able to come to a spot where we can laugh about the poopcidents. On the other hand, I think poor Joseph is scarred for life.

The other night the boys were in the tub. They always bathe together and have since Trent was strong enough to sit up in the tub. Joseph in the more recent has taken to laying down in the bath, full immersed in the water with pretty much his eyes, nose and mouth the only parts not fully immersed... With good reason of course, to breathe. So, he's chilled out floating around and Trent playing away. I go about my business cleaning the sink and putting away things in the bathroom, I then (don't call child services on me...) I step out of the bathroom to get their towels, I come back to an open toilet lid. I right away think Trent is playing toy basketball. But there are no toys in the toilet....Yet. Whatever. I hang their towels and next thing I know Trent has hurled a handful of nuggets towards the open toilet. WHAT are you doing?? Sure enough I look in the tub and there are poop nuggets bobbing around everywhere. Joseph is fully unaware and bobbing along with them. Trent is trying to catch more nuggets while saying "Mammie, I keen it up... I just keeen it up" he just does not want to get into trouble. And still there's Joseph bobbing around in the poop soup.

It was one of those moments where I was laughing so hard. Joseph for the life of him could not figure out why I was telling him to get out of the tub. Finally he turns around and sees the poop soup he was just in and says "UHHHH GROSSS!!! TRENT!!!" So, they are both out of the tub drying off and I have my back to them as I am now the designated poop catcher (add that to the job description) and I hear Joseph become all motherly. "Now Trent... Where does poop go??? In the potty" Trent looks up at him with his wet curls hanging down his forehead and his puppy dog eyes wide with admiration and replies "ok Joffuf"

Joseph was a little fearful to get back into the water with Trent, but brotherly love and bubbles prevailed and he steamed ahead.
But I think he will forever be scarred by the poop soup. I am just glad it was me that was home and not Big Daddy because his first question when I told him the story later that night was "Did you take a picture?"

Thankfully, everyone involved there were no photos taken.

Sunday Cough ~ Priceless

2 large coffee at Tim Horton's ~ $2.80
1 box of Timbits ~ $3.50
Sunday cough ~ priceless

Sometimes kids take situations all to literally. Or at least Joseph does. He is very serious and has great concern for those who he cares about. He takes things to heart and thinks deeply about them. Don't get me wrong he has a light side too and enjoys a good laugh about things (mainly gotchies and farts... see previous post).

The other night since Big Daddy was going to be at the University quite late the boys and I invited my Mom over for coffee. Seeing as it's roll up the rim to win season at Tim Horton's she picks up coffee on her way over. So we sit down and the boys are devouring their timbits and my Mom sips her coffee and choke's on it. She is spattering and coughing. Joseph looks at her with great concern so she tries to make light of it for him and says "it just went down my Sunday throat". I don't know if that is a phrase that many other families use, but our family has always said it. Joseph went on about his way playing and showing all his Star Wars assets to Gramma.

Trent is growing weary and it is time for a bath and jammies, so my Mom is getting her jacket on to head out. The boys smooch & hug her and say good-bye. Joseph then looks at her and says "I hope your feeling better".
Forgetting about the earlier occurance Mom & I look at one another in wonderment. She then says to Joseph "well I am not sick, but thanks" Joseph replies "Well, I hope your Sunday cough gets better." turns on a dime and heads out of the room. It was funny and I could not stop laughing. Sometimes you just have to wonder what is rolling around in those little boys heads. When it comes out, its priceless.

Boys will be boys

Boys will always be boys no matter what you do. You can dress 'em up, but you can't take 'em out.
The other night Big Daddy decided to take Joseph and his sidekick Dylan to game five of the playoffs between the Saskatoon Blades and the Regina Pats. Go Blades Go!

They get situated in their seats with their drinks, popcorn and miscellaneous other snacks and are waiting for the game to start. Joseph and Dylan are conversing. As you all I am sure know five and six year olds have quite the conversations. Dylan was telling Joseph how he wants a Tamagotchi for his birthday. Joseph starts giggling. Dylan asks what's so funny. Joseph says "Tamagotchi" has the word "gotchi" in it.

Ahhh, life with boys. You have to find humour in gotchies, farts, poops and burps or you just don't fit in.