It’s A Long Way To Tipperary

Lee — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 14:24:50 +0000

Avast Yee Land Lubbers!

Lee — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 21:13:14 +0000

Jack has decided that he’s going to be a pirate this Halloween. He made the decision about 2 weeks ago but of course nothing is set in stone, as I learned last year when he told me he wanted to be Bob the Builder and at 3pm on Halloween afternoon he turned to me and said “I’ve changed my mind, I want to be a ghost”. So I ran out to buy a plain white sheet, cut out the eyes and mouth of the sheet, put it on my sweet baby and as we walked out the front door that evening to trick or treat, he turned and said to me “I think I’ll be Bob the Builder”.

This went on for the entire duration of Halloween last year. Jack had more costume changes then Diana Ross does during one of her concerts.

Jack assures me this year he is going to be a pirate. My mom went out and bought him a pirate outfit complete with eye patch and sword, massive pirate hat with skull and bones and of course the obligatory ‘hook’ to use in place of his hand.

He loves to wear this costume (even though it’s still another 2 weeks until Halloween). So on Sunday morning when my family and I met for breakfast it was no surprise to me that Jack dressed himself completely in his pirate outfit for breakfast (eye patch and all). As we entered the restaurant, Jack stomped down the aisle towards my family (already seated at the table) and shouted to all of the restaurant patrons “AVAST YEE LAND LUBBERS!! WALK THE PLANK OR YOU’LL BE FISH FOOD!”

My family laughed as other customers looked on, some in horror, others with children giving me the ‘look’. You know the ‘look’, the ‘been there, done that, look’ which is a combination of sympathy and thank-god-that’s-not-my-kid, look.

I wasn’t fazed. I was happy we were finally out of his hockey helmet phase, which he went through last year when he got his first hockey helmet. He wore it everywhere including the bath. So I was ‘down’ with the pirate outfit, it was made of plastic, no worries about it rusting in the bathtub.

When our server came over to take our orders, Jack got up on his knees and leaned across the table shaking his ‘hook-like hand’ at her and said “AYYYYYYY ME HARDIES, I’LL HAVE THE SCRAMBLE EGGS AND BACON ….GRRRRRRRRRRRRR AND BE QUICK OR I’LL MAKE YOU WALK THE PLANK AND YOU’LL BE FISH FOOD”

I looked at our young waitress, smiled sheepishly and said “he’s my neighbor’s son. Terrible how some people raise their children isn’t it”.

Wayne Gretzky Lives

Lee — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 13:00:15 +0000

Jack adores hockey. Not sure where this love of the sport came from, but I can only assume its genetics. How else do you explain when he was 3 years old lying on my bed watching TV. As I flipped through the channels, hockey came on and Jack yelled “don’t change it!”

He laid back, stuck his hand down his pants (like Al Bundy) and said “can I have a beer”.

From that moment on he was hooked on hockey, (although he still asks for a beer occasionally).

For the past 2 years I have played both street hockey and in the winter ice hockey with Jack (I’m the only mom out there in a sweater set and pearls) and this year I finally took the plunge and signed Jack up for Hockey.

On Thursday the league e-mailed me and said that Jack needed to show at the rink on Saturday morning (at 7:00am!) with full gear. I was on a course my company had sent me on (leaning about contracts and negotiations) so on Friday after my exam we went out to try and find all that he would need. By 9pm and several shops later we finally got all the equipment.

On Saturday morning we got up super earlier, loaded up the car and went to the rink. Once there we were directed to the ‘change room’. There I was (of course in my uniform, sweater set and pearls) amongst a roomful of men and small boys all changing into their hockey equipment. It was by the grace of god that I got Jack dressed in all the gear and I was sweating profusely by the time it was done. One of the dads turned to me and said “do you have a cup?” “A cup? Why yes” I responded as I showed him my cup of tea that I picked up at McDonald’s before heading to the arena.

“No,” he replied “a cup.”

“YES” I said again as I showed him my cup of tea. He then gestured towards the lower part of Jack’s body and said “A CUP”…. ohhhhhh ‘A CUP” I said all knowing now. Heavens to Betsey no! He told me that I should consider buying one. At that moment I long for the days when Jack was in soccer.

Once suited up my sweetie hit the ice. Literally. He got on the ice and fell down like a ton of bricks, and we realized that with all this equipment on he couldn’t get up without assistance. One of the coaches got him up and no sooner then that, he was back down again on the ice. But Jack didn’t quit. Someone would skate by, pick him up, he’d skate (or walk on the ice) for a little bit, but as soon as a strong breeze came along he was down again.

At one point Jack lay in the middle of the rink for about 10 minutes. He lay on his stomach, and then flipped to his back, then on his side. After a while another little boy fell in the vicinity of Jack, and the two of them laid there on their tummies just talking. I overheard the other boy’s mother say “oh look, William found a friend” as her son and Jack just laid there chatting.

Eventually Jack did get himself up (I think his bellybutton was getting frostbite) and again he skated around a bit more (when I say skate, please be aware it’s more of an uncontrolled flailing of his body around the rink). Eventually this exhausted him and he went to the coach and asked for a “break”.

The coach replied “break? What do you think this is soccer? It’s hockey, keep skating!” Jack persisted so the coach told him to go and take a break over in the corner of the ice rink and sit down on the ice.

Jack more or less lay down as opposed to sit, and about 2 minutes later a few other boys who were ‘flailing’ by must have thought it looked comfortable because they joined him and before you know there were 5 little ones half asleep laying on the ice.

To perk up the boys the coaches brought out a couple of hockey nets and some pucks. The boys immediately jumped up and started to try and hit the pucks. With every swing of their sticks a small boy’s bottom hit the ice.

Jack, having prior knowledge through soccer that the ‘goalie’ position is the one requiring the least movement, headed straight for the net. Within 2 minutes the net was filled with 4 other goalies and one little boy was actually at the back of the net laying down…oh wait a minute that was Jack.

As the tryouts ended and Jack came off the ice sweating as if he’d run a marathon, I asked him if he enjoyed himself. He yelled “It was great!”

On the drive home I said to Jack, “maybe one day you’ll become a famous hockey star, and mom can quit her job and you can buy me a house”

Jack responded “mom I’ll do better then that! When I become a famous hockey star I’ll get you FREE TICKETS to my game!”

“Wow” I said, “that would be great, but mom would really like a house too.”

Jack, who at the best of times is ‘careful’ with his money thought about this and then said “okay, I’ll throw in some money for snacks at the game too and a jacket incase you get cold”

Finally, I got to use my new ability as a skilled negotiator, and I have to say, I think I got a pretty good deal.

The Last Soccer Game

Lee — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 16:14:24 +0000

Well it’s over. Jack’s first soccer season ended last night with the Tigers winning … again.

The Tigers were undefeated this season, mainly to do with a little boy named “Ricardo” who at the age of 5 could put Beckham to shame.

Last night before the game we “carbed’ up Jack (and ourselves) with spaghetti before the big game. Funny it has the opposite affects on us, we all wanted to nap shortly after dinner, but there was no time.

Jack got dressed in his Tim Bit outfit and Emmy put his shoes on.

Then we all piled into our respective cars and drove to the field.

Yes all.

It was big deal for Jack that this was his last soccer game, so my family came out to support him in his final game (support/mock really all the same thing in my family).

The league provided milkshakes and trophies for this last game, which was so nice, yet maybe not too wise. The shakes were given out prior to practice which meant we had the option of hanging on to the shakes until after the practice and the game (when they would be nice and warm) or give them out prior to the practice and watch in horror as small boys run around the field vomiting on it and each other. Which would have been the lesser of two evils?

Jack started the game with his usual flare, running behind his team, still not to sure what was going on and of course shooting me the occasional dirty look because he still couldn’t believe I had betrayed him by signing him up for this god forsaken sport and making him run around a field all night.

I took my position, standing on the sidelines yelling as loud as I could “kick the ball Jack, Jack follow the ball, Jack the ball is right in front of you…kick it…KICK IT! For the love of god KICK THE BALL!!!!!” All my pleas fell on deaf ears.

At one point Jack did connect with the ball, only to fall over it. He stood up and came walking towards me holding his hand. He said he hurt it when he fell.

I checked out his hand, made him wave it around so I knew it wasn’t broken then turned him around, gave him a little tap on the bum and said “shake it off sport and get back in the game”.

Who had I become? Me, the one that still refers to her child as “baby” or “sweet baby”, telling my sweetie to ‘walk off’ a boo boo. Who had I had become, why I became a soccer mom. I realized this as I stood there in my pearls and sweater set with my fold away chair that would be put into the back of my van when the game was over along with the Jack’s soccer ball, shin pads and water bottle. I felt a chill run down my spine, but I soon came to terms with alter ego in time to see that the other team was running up the field, about to score on our net.

Jack was so tired he could barely run but I/we (my family) began to scream at Jack to run up the field and get in the goal (as Jack was dubbed the “sweeper” by the hot dad) which meant anytime the other team was going to try and score a goal, Jack had to get himself into the net to stop it.

Jack really had to hustle to get past the other team and into the net, but he did just in the knick of time. The other team kicked the ball and Jack stopped it…with his tummy, see it pays to eat a big meal before the game.

We all cheered for him and I excitedly glanced down at my niece who was video taping the game. Hang on, why was she just sitting there with the camera in her lap? “Emily, did you get that on tape?” “No, I only have 7 minutes of battery time left and I want to film the trophy ceremony”

Trophy Ceremony? TROPHY CEROMONY? This isn’t the Olympics, this is a bunch of 5 year old boys playing soccer!! There’s no ceremony, there’s only 4 boys! No flag will be raised or singing of the national anthem. We’ll get the boys on the field and hand them their trophies before they start throwing up from their milkshakes! You’ve put aside 7 minutes for the Trophy Ceromonies and missed Jack making a great save?

Give me strength.

Emmy just game me a dirty look for questioning her filming abilities, I almost smacked her on the side of the head, if wasn’t for the fact her mother was standing next to me (but secretly, I could have taken her down too).

Finally the game was over. I think Ricardo only scored 17 goals (he wasn’t feeling well) and Aaron performed his obligatory cartwheels after each goal much to the delight of the crowd and Jack dragged his aching 70 year old body off the field, but immediately perked up upon being handed a chocolate shake.

Hot Dad handed out the trophies to all the kids and then our coach handed out medals that he and his wife had purchased, which made the kids feel like they were in the Olympics. Jack was thrilled to get a trophy and a medal and kept asking me if he was a good soccer player to which I responded, he was a great soccer player.

Ricardo came over to let Jack know that soccer wasn’t really over, that the Fall soccer season was about to begin, but Jack responded “thanks but I’m signing up to play Hockey next.”

Hmmmm I wonder what Hockey moms wear?

Family Vaction

Lee — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 13:22:07 +0000

My sister (Lisa) decided we should take a “family vacation” at a place called the Fern Resort. I protested because I had just come back from Deerhurst with Jack and some friends a few weeks earlier, but my sister said “did you ever think we wanted to take a family vacation?” and guilted me into going.

Knowing my need to have “nice” things around me at all times, Lisa called and made reservations and requested that Jack and I have one of the newly ‘refurbished’ rooms so I would be comfortable in a newer more updated room.

After an hour and half drive we pulled into the long winding driveway of the resort. My mother could tell by my quietness that all was not well.

The resort did look like the pictures on the internet, only about 30 years older. The red roofs were faded and sagging in the middle, the baloneys were rusted and each came with its own broom so you could sweep away all the cobwebs and massive spiders.

As I got out of the car, slightly stunned, Lisa came up behind me and said “I know, looks a bit like the Bates hotel from Physco, but the kids will absolutely love it here.”

I thought, I wonder how much Jack will love this place when mommy forces him to sleep in the car each night with her as she sobs into her pillow….I spent how much money to come to this place?!

We were there for about 10 minutes when my mother said “well who’s up for the Casino”.

Then the penny dropped. The Rama Casino was about 5 minutes away!

We checked in and went down for dinner. What Fern lacked in physical appearance it more then made up for in speed of service. I suppose after being in business for 75 years as a family vacation resort, you pick up a thing or two such as small children need to eat immediately upon entering a restaurant, so a small buffet was set up for children consisting of the four food groups; hot dogs, hamburgers, chicken fingers and fries.

The buffet was set up to be about the height of a 5 year old, so kids could help themselves. When Jack realized that this was ‘his’ buffet, I think he shed a tear.

Once dinner was over my mom and sisters went to the Casino “just for an hour” while Emily, Jack and I went to explore the resort (all the while keeping an eye out for massive spiders).

We found the trampolines near the mini golf and Emms and Jack wasted no time in getting off their shoes and joining in on the fun while I surveyed the pagoda the trampolines were housed under and the millions of bugs that were dead or caught in some spiders web on the roof.

A young girl came over and started to talk to Emms and soon the two of them were jumping on the trampoline together “popcorning’ Jack (for the unknown, popcorning is when someone lies in the middle of the trampoline and everyone jumps around them and that person is ‘bounced’ like a piece of popcorn).

The kids finished up and then moved onto min-golf. Our new addition to the group was called Sylvia and she was sarcastic enough for Emmy and kind enough to Jack so she fit in well. Sylvia said this was her fourth year she and her family had vacationed at Fern; I responded “why, did your father continually lose some sort of bet?” Emmy shot me a dirty look.

We finished up at mini-golf and Sylvia announced that it was time for the ‘show’ so we blindly followed this 11 year old girl, she could have been taken us to the depths of hell…oh wait a minute, I was already there.

We got to the pavilion where the ‘shows’ were held, I think the place was called Lulu’s, and when there wasn’t a show on, it doubled as the bingo pavilion. I purchased drinks and a large bag of popcorn for the kids. As I waited for the girl behind the snack counter to come back with the drinks, I pulled out a $20 to pay.

“$3.76” she said.

“Pardon me?” I said as I stood there with my $20 in my hand. “$3.76” she replied.
“No, I had the 2 cokes and the large popcorn” I said.

“I know”, she said, “It’s $3.76”

Dear god no wonder they can’t fix the roofs or power wash the trampoline pagoda! They have a captive audience and have no idea how to screw people over!!

We found our seats and waited for the ‘show’ to start. It was a ventriloquism act, which at the best of times can be a bit of a sleeper, but this my friends was a bad ventriloquism act. I grabbed my blackberry and e-mailed my boss: “Help me; I’m trapped in Resort hell in what appears to be a bad remake of Dirty Dancing. I’m baby and someone’s trying to put me in the corner”

My boss e-mailed me back: “I loved that movie, sounds like fun, but I don’t remember a baby? Enjoy the dancing.”

At that point Jack turned and said “mommy this is a bad show, I can see that man’s lips moving”

When you’re sitting 40 rows from the stage and your 5 year old tells you the show is bad all you can do is grab your popcorn and leave.

My sisters and mom finally returned from their 1 hour jaunt to the Casino about 3 hours later and Jack and I settled down to sleep. It’s hard to sleep with one eye open because you’re afraid some massive spider will come and eat your baby.

The next morning we had breakfast and went over to the waterfront where there was a fishing contest for kids (catch and release).

Jack got his fishing rod (which was a piece of wood with a line, hook and ewwww worm attached). All the kids were lined up on the pier fishing and one after another they’d yell out “I caught a fish… I got one too….this makes my 10^th fish”

Kids were catching fish left right and centre, all but Jack. 45 minutes into the competition and the girl next to Jack yelled out “I caught another one! This is my 13^th fish!”

It was all I could do not to push her into the lake.

Emily was over helping Jack, but obviously she was an amateur. I stepped in. Jack and I attempted for 30 more minutes to catch a fish – nothing.

The girl next to Jack had left. She’d caught 22 fish and was exhausted. Infact when we looked around, pretty much all the kids had left. Lisa came over to me and said “do you want to go” I hissed back at her “you’ve taken me to this god forsaken place and we are not leaving until Jack catches one of these damn fish even if I have to go get a gun and shoot one and then impale it on his hook myself!”

Lisa went and got a fishing rod, stood next to us and began fishing as well.

Two hours into our fishing contest everyone was gone except us. The boy in the cabana wanted to go for lunch – but didn’t. Lisa and Emms had both caught a fish, and were now fishing away from Jack because according to me, they had both ‘stolen’ Jack’s fish…..then finally – he caught one.

I screamed “JACK CAUGHT A FISH!” and Lisa came running with the camera. Lisa and I then began to scream together, because the poor fish was flopping all over the pier and almost touched us. A little 9 year old girl named ‘Emily’ came over, took the hook out of the fish’s mouth and released the fish.

We gave her $5 and went in for lunch.

After lunch we went to the trampolines again. Why do we do that? What is it about eating and then desperately wanting to jump draws us to those damn trampolines?

This time they were empty (there are 3 mini trampolines under the pagoda). Jack asked me to come on with him and I obliged.

I can’t remember the last time I was on a trampoline – but sweet baby was it fun! I encouraged Lisa to come on as well so she did and the two of us were jumping around like idiots pissing ourselves laughing.

Later my other sister Jan hung out with Emmy, Jack and I (as Lisa and mom went to the casino). Jack wanted to go fishing again, so we went back to the water front, got his pole (or should I say stick) found a shady place with a bench for Jan and I (as I’ve learned this will be a long process) and sat down. Jan said “what are you going to do if he catches a fish? We’re pretty far away from the fishing hut where the guy bates your hook and releases any caught fish”

“Don’t worry” I replied, “if he should catch a fish, it won’t be for hours” and just then Jack yelled “I CAUGHT A FISH!”

Crap he did! Now I’m going to have to go and release this fish! It’s too far to get the fish back to the fish hut without it dying, and I can’t see a living thing die, so…so CRAP I’M GOING TO HAVE TO TOUCH THIS FISH!

I ran over grabbed the line, grabbed hold of the fish and took out the hook and released it. I did this ‘shudder’ dance and thought I was going to vomit. I turned to walk back to the bench (after wiping my hands on the grass) and Jack yelled out again “HEY I CAUGHT ANOTHER FISH”

‘YOU DID NOT!’ I yelled, but sure enough he did. As I pulled the hook out of this fish and turned to throw it back in the water Jack yelled out “AND ANOTHER!”

It all became a blur. I couldn’t unhook these fish fast enough. In the end Jack had caught 15 fish in total (in about a span of 30 minutes). Jack was thrilled, I stunk.

The rest of the weekend continued with fishing, swimming, eating. Everyone had a great time (well except for me). Lisa kept teasing me that my birthday gift was that she had booked Jack and I here for the next week, which made Jack ecstatic, me…not so much.

On Sunday morning Jack was sad. We were leaving after lunch and didn’t want to go.

My mom, Emmy and I took him down to the water front to fish one more time. I sat on the bench and watched as my little fisherman tried to lure the fish in. About 20 minutes into it and Jack still hadn’t caught any fish. He’d lost lots of worms but no fish. Finally he yelled “I GOT ONE” but in his excitement, he stepped back on the pier and fell in the lake.

Never in my life have I moved so fast. All I could think of was as soon as my feet hit the pier I’m diving in. As I got to the pier Jack was standing up in the water and there was already another mom on the pier holding Jacks hand trying to get him out of the water. The water was only to his waist, which I knew but somehow seeing him fall in erased that from my brain and I could think about was getting my baby out of the lake. I grabbed Jack and hoisted him out of the water holding him close to me. He didn’t cry but he was shaken and so was I.

And that was the end to our weekend, much to the cries of Jack who didn’t want to go home. We had spent a full weekend of swimming, trampoline jumping, fishing, falling into a lake, eating, watching very bad shows, drinking way too much pop and playing one giant game of checkers where you have to move the pieces with your feet.

It was time to go.

But don’t worry; we’ll be back next year.

He Shoots He Scores

Lee — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 19:20:49 +0000

I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, but I’ve signed Jack up for Soccer this summer.

My dad was a huge soccer fan, and it was only by the grace of god that my sisters or I weren’t called “Tottenham” or “Hot Spurs” for short.

So I signed up Jack and now he’s an official “Tim Bit” and his team is called the “Tigers” so he’s a “Tim Bit Tiger” and loves nothing more then growling and pretends he’s clawing at the opposing team when they face off.

Sounds aggressive doesn’t he? Well not really. The other day while playing, one of the little boys from the opposing team fell, Jack stopped in the middle of the game to bend down and ask if he was alright while his mother (me) yelled from the side lines “kick the ball baby…don’t stop KICK THE BALL!” During the games, I think my dad inhabits my body and I have no control over what I say.

Jacks teammates are phenomenal soccer players. Although their under 5, I think most of the boys could probably sign professional deals now so it’s very rare that Jack even comes close to the ball, let alone scoring a goal, but he has his place on the team. The rules state that each team can only have 3 players on the field at a time, so because Jack is on a team with 4 players, they need to rotate during the match to have one boy sit out, that’s where Jack comes in. If there’s a break to be had, Jack is the first to put his hand up and go and sit out. Last week he volunteered to sit out before the game even started.

I may have given you the impression that Jack doesn’t like Soccer, well good, because he doesn’t. My sweet baby sees no point in running up and down a field chasing a ball, especially when there’s fruit and cold water on the sidelines. My dad would be holding his head watching this.

When Jack’s on the field I stand there as the dutiful mother and yell “come on Jack get the ball, get in there sweetie, turn the ball around” etc., sometimes he does get a turn to kick the ball, but he usually looks up at that point to see if I can see him with the ball, gives me a wave and then winds up to give a big kick…too late, someone from his team has already got the ball off Jack and scored.

Although we don’t keep score, I can tell you that Jack’s team at this point has won every game usually with a score (again we don’t keep score, but if you have a competitive mother…how can you not) of about 30 – 2.

This week the game was going as normal. Tigers had already scored about 30 times and Jack was sitting out on the side eating an orange. Then one of the Tigers fell down and got his hand stood on by another boy, so Jack was called onto the field (not before he finished his orange).

The game resumed and Jack joined the pack of other 5 year olds running around after the ball, stopping occasionally to give me a dirty look (he really blamed me for signing him up for soccer). Then I noticed Jack had the ball and…AND HE WAS IN SCORING POSTION!

I started to scream, “KICK THE BALL JACK, KICK THE BALL!!!!” The other father next to me was screaming the same “KICK THE BALL JACK, KICK THE BALL!”

And then it happened, very slowly Jack’s foot connected with the ball to score his first goal.

I was jumping up and down and screaming; the mother next to me started yelling “was that Jack? Was that Jack? Did Jack score a goal?!!!” There was mayhem on the sidelines. I’m sure the other team couldn’t understand why we were all going crazy, after all we were already winning by about 40 goals at that point, but they didn’t understand the importance of this one goal.

Jack ran up the field beaming. The coach asked if anyone wanted a break and for the first time, Jack didn’t put his hand up. He was staying on the field to play.

At the end of the game the teams line up and high-five each other, and then one of the dads (or as we on the sidelines like to call him ‘the hot dad’) who’s son is the soccer star of the team went on the field and gave Jack a big hug and congratulated him on his goal. Jack was thrilled to have this dad acknowledge him and then came running off the field into my arms and a thousand kisses.

I stopped on the way home to pick Jack up an ice cream cone to celebrate his goal. And as he slurped and munched on his ice cream cone he said to me “do you think Marty saw me make that goal?” Absolutely I replied. “What do you think Marty said when I made that goal?” asked Jack.

I could hear my dad’s voice in my ear “about bloody time”.

Jack Turns 5

Lee — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 19:13:09 +0000

Circle your calendars, start the Parade, Jack turned 5!

I can’t believe that 5 years have gone by, truly in the blink of an eye. Part of me still misses my little baby and part of me is so excited to see him growing up, changing and becoming a little boy.

I woke Jack up on his birthday with kiss on his cheek as he lay in bed pretending to be asleep. I whispered “happy birthday sweetheart’ and his eyes opened up instantly and a big smile was on his face. He sat up and said “I get my special cereal today!”

Normally I don’t allow Jack to have the ‘sugar’ cereals, but birthday’s are special, and a 5^th birthday is very special, so the night before Jack and I went to the grocery store for him to pick whatever cereal he wanted…anything!

He picked chocolate Lucky Charms (because you know, they are magically delicious). I poured him a bowl of his cereal and added the milk. I then proceeded to cook some bacon that I had picked up from the butchers. I toasted some 7 grain bread and made a delicious BLT for myself.

Jack had 2 spoonfuls of his cereal, then looked over at me and said ‘can I have some of that?” Sure I responded, and with that he pushed away the bowl of ‘would be’ cereal and ate the BLT. Ahhhh I thought to myself feeling quite smug, I’ve raised him to make good choices (most of the time).

To mark this big occasion I threw a huge party for my guy, complete with a clown and 20 kids – yes, 20 children!

We were planning on a jumping castle as well, but the weather wasn’t with us and it rained so we couldn’t have use the castle. A cold shiver went down my spine when I realized that the jumping castle was not going to happen and I was going to have to entertain 20, 5 year olds (at least until the clown arrived).

At that point I opened up a bottle of wine – fortunately for me there were other parents, grandparents and aunts there to help me…no not with the children, with drinking the wine (it’s not good to drink alone).

We made it through the 3 hour party, and I think for the most part everyone had a good time (I know I had a very good time with a bottle of Yellow Label wine from Australia).

My sister helped me tidy up most of the carnage, but I knew the rest would be waiting for me on Sunday morning.

I got up on Sunday and started with laundry and slowly worked my way downstairs. Jack was in heaven opening up gifts (still!) while I proceed to vacuum, clean floors, tables, do dishes etc. I finally got enough of it under control to take Jack outside to play. We took his ‘rocket blaster’ and went outside for a couple of hours. We came back in where I proceed to finish the laundry, give Jack a bath (how did he get blue frosting in his hair?), make dinner, play 2 games of Trouble (remember…if you’ve got Trouble wait don’t run, this kind of Trouble is lots fun…) and then go out back to play with Jack.

At around 6:30pm I was exhausted. I stumbled into the family room (with dinner finished and the dishes done) and Jack looked at me and said “can you take me for a bike ride?”

I replied “honey I am sooooo tired”. Jack looked at me with that quizzical ‘raised one eyebrow’ look and said “what from? You’ve done nothing all day but sit around”.

I hope he enjoyed his 5^th birthday, he’ll be lucky if he sees his 6^th.

Jack Rides a 2 Wheeler

Lee — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 12:40:02 +0000

I remember when I first learned to ride a 2 wheeler. It was in the parking lot of the apartment we lived in. My dad and my two sisters were down there with me to help and I still remember the moment when my dad let go and I rode away (he had to chase after me because while they taught me to ride, they didn’t teach me to stop).

Last week I removed Jack’s training wheels from his bike. He convinced me that now he was 5 he could handle a 2 wheeler, after all, he wasn’t a ‘baby’ anymore.

For the past couple of days we’ve been out at the park trying to perfect the act of riding a 2 wheeler bike. Jack in his helmet and me bent over holding the back of his seat. We’d go round and round the park, running as fast as I can, bent over so I could help him steer and offer encouragement when needed.

Do you know how hard it is to run bent over? I’d have to stop from time to time and Jack would whine “come on Mommmmmmmmmm, what’s taking you so long!”

Sorry darling, I’ve been running bent over for an hour (on and off) and I think I’m going to have a stroke, let me sit down for a second…what? No? Oh, okay then, let me ‘assume the position’ and start running again. Sorry darling…do you smell burnt toast?

This past Friday, we hit the park again. We went round and round and slowly I let my hand go off the back of his bike, he rode for about 2 seconds then he began to wobble and grabbed the back again (note when I let go I don’t stand up, I stay bent over still running because I’m afraid if he sees me stand up, he’ll realize I let go, freak out and fall).

We continue this and the next time he rides on his own for about 3 seconds. This continues until I let go….. he rides halfway around the park… on his own.

I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. I was so overwhelmed with pride and joy for my child.

Jack stopped his bike and looked at me – not sure if what happened actually happened. I grabbed him, gave him a huge hug and yelled “YOU DID IT”!

We went around the park again a few more times, me still bent over with my hand ready to catch him if he fell, but he didn’t.

We went home to call “Bubbie and the Aunties”. Jack yells into the phone “Bubbie, I can ride my bike all by myself! My 2 WHEELERRRRRRRR! And mummy doesn’t even have to hold on, mummy just stands there!”

By the time we call his grandparents, the part about mummy not having to help was completely left out. Jack gets on the phone and says “Nana I can ride my bike all by myself, my 2 wheeler! Mummy just stands there and doesn’t do anything!”

Nice. If my former in-laws thought I was lazy before…my son has just confirmed it.

Jack hands the phone to me, and Penny (my former mother-in-law) is laughing as I say “that’s right, I did nothing… I just stood there and watched him meanwhile I’m ready to have a stroke from running bent over for the past hour”

Thank goodness Penny had 3 children herself and realizes that kids don’t find it as much fun sharing the credit with your mother as it is taking it all for yourself. Do I mind, not really it is the selfless act of being a mother – gosh this cross I’ve laid myself on is ever so uncomfortable.

But I am truly proud of Jack. This one small step opens up a world for him of independence. This is where he’ll learn the joy of getting on his bike (when he’s older) and taking off with his friends to go to the store to buy junk food (that I won’t let him have at home). He’ll probably ride his bike to school when he no longer needs me or Bubbie to walk him and that will probably be around the same time he asks me not to hug or kiss him in public or show any affection to him in anyway shape or form, in fact if we could pretend that we don’t even no each other…..

On second thought I think I’ll go home and deflate his tires.

Mudders Day - Part Deux

Lee — Mon, 12 May 2008 14:30:08 +0000

If you’ve read my blog in the past, you may have stumbled on one called “Mudders Day”.

It’s an account of my mothers days (since I became a mother) over the past 4 years and how they haven’t been a ‘Norman Rockwell’ experience for me.

But this year would be different. This year my son was 5 and able to communicate the love and bond we share as mother and son. This year I would get the accolades I so richly deserve after 5 years of caring and nurturing my only child…this year I would get the macaroni vase made by my little ones own two hands.

Mothers Day started out promising. My little guy tip toed into my bedroom at around 6:10am (I had let him stay up until 10:30 the night before so I was surprised to see him up so early… probably couldn’t wait to see me and wish me a Happy Mothers Day).

As he crawled into my bed and pulled the covers up to his ears, I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek and said “good morning sweetheart”.

I waited, but there was no response, (I chuckled to myself), typical male I thought, needs a gentle reminder so I leaned over again and said “sweetheart is there anything you want to say to me?” No response.

Hmmmm. Maybe he needed more coaxing, so I said in my sweetest singsong voice “sweetheart, aren’t you going to wish me a Happy Mothers Day?”

Well I’m not sure how that bus got in my room, or who threw me under it, but let’s just say the response I received from my pride and joy, was not exactly what I had expected. It started with an ear piercing scream of NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO and then went onto a tirade of exactly why he hated Mothers Day, Mothers and me in particular.

I tried to tell myself it’ was because he was tired. He only had 7 hours sleep and is use to at least 11 hours, but after awhile of being screamed at, that excuse can only be sustained for so long. Finally I had enough and asked him to leave my room. He stormed out of my room, into his own, continuing his assault on Mothers and Motherhood and began to pull the sheets off his bed and onto the floor. He looked at me and said “I also hate my room and everything in it!”

I let him unleash, went back to my room and closed the door so I wouldn’t have to see the carnage. About 2 minutes later there was a knock at my door and a very sad and apologetic boy stood in my bedroom. “I’m so sorry mommy that I took my sheets off my bed mommy, I’m so sorry I yelled at you…”

He was close to tears, so I picked him and said “its okay sweetheart, I know you’re tired. I know you didn’t mean what you said and that you love me” I sat with him on my lap while I rubbed his back and he calmed down. I then said to him “do you want wish me a Happy Mothers Day now?”

He sat up and looked at me with incredible disbelief. Did I not hear him correctly? Or as he put it “Hello? Do you not understand English?!! I HATE MUDDERS DAY!”

Jack let it be known that he was apologizing for taking the sheets off his bed. He was still firmly entrenched in the belief that Mothers Day and Mothers, in general were a bad idea. We were bossy bunch who made him do things like take baths, eat vegetables, and not let him play on the road.

The rest of the day pretty much continued as the beginning of the day. My mother and sister came over for lunch, I made a prime rib, and Jack enjoyed it immensely. When my mother tried to give him a card and gift to give to me from him, he refused. My mom had a revelation (and a nice bottle of wine that I think helped with the revelation). She reasoned that because the Jack is the centre of my universe, he didn’t like it when the attention shifted off of him and onto me. In his mind, the universe became unbalanced.

Around 4pm my mom and sister had left. Jack and I were sitting on the couch and he turned to me and said ‘is mother’s day over now?’ I responded “yes”. “Good, I’m tired of being nice to you” he said. .

With that little gem ringing in my ears, I got Jack dressed and we went to the park to play. Around 6:30 my guy was so exhausted, I took put him to bed and he was asleep before I left his room.

I leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek and realized that Mothers Day isn’t about whether I get a macaroni vase or a card or showered with love.

Mothers Day (for me at least) is a day that I try to make it through the day without taking a blow to the head.

But I’m sure next year will be different.