Tag Archive | Ben

Minutes of Pickles Family Meeting Regarding Equitable Distribution of Chocolates

Pickles Family Meeting Regarding Equitable Distribution of Chocolates

February 1, 2014

Present: Ben, Molly, Mommy, Daddy

Regrets: None

Ben Pickles called the meeting to order at 6:00 PM.

Ben Pickles explained that he had called a family meeting to address the issue of Mommy eating more than 11 After Eight chocolates.

Ben Pickles stated that he feels it is important that we share treats and one person doesn’t eat all of them.

Mommy asked if this applies to Fortnam&Mason apple & custard hard candies as well because when Molly Pickles was told yesterday that she could only have her apple slices for snack, she sneaked into the cupboard and served herself a bowl of candies and ate them all.

Molly Pickles countered that she did not in fact eat them all because she could not fit the remainder in her mouth when Mommy came to take them away and that was mean.

Daddy giggled helplessly and unhelpfully.

Ben Pickles proposed that we require the sharing of chocolates equally and introduce a rule that chocolates only be eaten one at a time.

Mommy clarified that she had in fact eaten the chocolates one at a time, just in rapid succession.

Daddy asked if this directive would apply solely to chocolate or to other candies and/or treats.

Ben Pickles clarified that he intended the directive to include all candies and/or treats.

Ben Pickles proposed a vote by secret ballot and handed out ballots which, adding insult to injury, he then collected in the empty After Eight box.

Moved by Ben Pickles and seconded by Daddy that all candies and/or treats be shared in a fair and equitable manner and not consumed in disproportionate numbers by one person. Carried.

Mommy offered a formal apology: “I’m very sorry I ate so many.”

Molly Pickles offered no further comment regarding the hard candies.

Meeting adjourned at 6:20 PM.

Unmistakable evidence of Molly’s candy-eating transgression.

Scrutineer Ben tallying the results of the vote.

Magic Pennies

Jan14

I did some really great parenting yesterday.

It was that kind of day, you know? The kind that starts out tough and just gets tougher; the sort of day that has potential to go, as Ian would say in British, “completely pear-shaped.” Not to mention that with a new job and the ~~mindbogglingly stressful and emotionally taxing~~ somewhat time-consuming responsibilities that I’ve taken on at church battling my regular day-to-day tasks for ultimate supremacy, my time is at a premium and sleep a distant memory, so patience-wise, I’m not exactly at my best.

The kids were way overtired from the minute they woke up – as demonstrated by the fact that they were bickering, yelling, and at each other’s throats from the moment they rolled out of the wrong side of their beds.

This is what ‘overtired’ looks like.

Ben had a PD Day, and our plan was to drop Molly off at her school and then spend a special “Mommy and Ben morning” painting pottery at Crock-A-Doodle, but by 9:30 he was neck-deep in Meltdown #3 (“NO I WILL NOT HAVE MY ~~TALONS~~ NAILS CLIPPED BEFORE WE GO YOU CAN’T MAKE ME NO NO NOOOOOOOOOO I WON’T I WON’T I WON’T!!!!”) and I was thinking, “This just ain’t going to end well.”

But I stayed calm. He yelled…and I stayed calm. He screamed…and I stayed calm. He flailed…and I still stayed calm. Finally he settled down enough to have his nails clipped, requested tickles to cheer him up, and then we left.

And that was Great Parenting Moment #1.

We painted at Crock-A-Doodle for almost two hours – long enough that we lost track of time and had a panicked race to finish so we could pick Molly up on time. We painted AMAZING masterpieces together – I wish I could go back in time and do it over and over again because it was the most incredible, wonderful bonding time I’ve had with Ben ever. (Pictures of the masterpieces will follow in a few days when we pick them up!)

Masterpieces, pre-firing.

There was no anxiety over perfectionism on either of our parts (a trait we both have in spades!) – just a fun, creative time together, sharing ideas, and complimenting each other’s work (“Mommy, I love your under the sea mug. I think it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever made. And I love my heart mug for daddy – It’s going to be so amazing.”) Ben has a tendency to be hypercritical of himself, especially when it comes to art, so to hear him so pleased with himself was wonderfully refreshing.

I guess that was Great Parenting Moment #2, though Ben deserves at least half the credit!

…and all the credit for his masterpiece! Text reads “Find some magic pennies every day”.

We picked Molly up, ate lunch, and then they went to play MarioKart. Soon the overtiredeness reared its ugly head again as they launched back into bicker-yell-grab-hysterics-yell-bicker mode. As it devolved into screaming with no apparent cause or solution I walked into the room and – again calmly – turned off the TV, took the controllers away, and marched them upstairs.

Usually at this point in a day like this, I would be overcome with frustration and, if not yelling, certainly close to it (you know the tone – gritted teeth and rapid-fire punctuation – “Get. Up. Stairs.”), and Ben and Molly know it. But this time I was still completely Zen. I wasn’t angry, just focused giving them both some space from each other and from me. And were they ever confused – you could tell that they were expecting some sort of lecture and punishment.

I put them in their rooms and spoke to them one at a time – “Are we having nap? Are we in time-out?” “You are having some quiet time. You need to stay in your room. You can look at books and read or play quietly. Don’t leave your room – don’t talk to Molly/Ben – don’t yell down and ask me if it’s done. I’ll come and get you when you’re finished.” And then I went back downstairs, feeling relieved – not because I wasn’t going to have to listen to them screeching, but because they both finally seemed to be having a breather and getting the quiet and space that they needed to settle down.

And that was Great Parenting Moment #3.

Later in the day, Molly wanted to watch Beauty and the Beast, and Ben objected strenuously. Again the tiredness came out (unfortunately the quiet time couldn’t quite solve that issue!) and he started yelling in rapid-fire bursts, “NO!” “I WON’T!” “I DON’T WANT TO!” His tantrum culminated in his approaching me and Molly, saying (seemingly calmly), “Can I tell you something?” and then screaming into my waiting ear, “IT’S TOO SCARY!”

Boy oh boy…on any other day, I would have Hit. The. Roof. He had deliberately set me up; my ears were ringing; and I was furious. How Dare He? But from somewhere deep inside a little voice said, “breathe,” and I did. And I looked my little boy in the eyes – eyes that looked shocked and scared, anticipating my reaction – and I said, “Ben, go and sit on the step, please.” And that was Great Parenting Moment #4.

I set up the movie for Molly, took a few deep breaths, and then went to talk to Ben. First we talked how I was upset because he had made me think he was just going to say something and then screamed, and it hurt both my ear and my feelings. And then we talked about the yelling and screaming in general and why he did it and how he was going to stop doing it. He said, “I do it when I’m FRUSTRATED.” I asked if he screams at school and he said no. I asked if he gets frustrated at school, and he said yes. I asked why, if he still gets frustrated at school, doesn’t he scream there, but he does at home.

He thought for a minute and then answered in that astoundingly astute Ben way

I guess it’s because at home I know you love me and you’ll keep loving me when I scream but at school they don’t have to.

And I hugged him harder than ever, and that was Great Parenting Moment #5.

Special ‘Mommy and Ben Day’ at Crock-A-Doodle!

I might not be the greatest parent in the world. But I have my moments. And I think they’re a little like that magic penny – the more of those moments I can make, and the more I recognize them and remember them, the more I can build on them. And the more Ben and Molly will come to expect them and appreciate them and one day have their own.

~ karyn

Do you find it hard to keep your temper when your kids are overtired? What do you do to keep from yelling? Do you remember to give yourself a pat on the back when you get it right?

Eating My Words Instead of My Treats – Halloween Safety Part 2

Nov1

You may have noticed that I titled my previous post “Part 1.” Part 2 was supposed to be a snarky look at the rest of the usual Halloween safety tips flipped around like that “How to Prevent Sexual Assault” meme (“If you see an unconscious woman, don’t rape her”) to put the onus on the grown-ups: So “Put reflective tape on your costume so cars don’t hit you” becomes “If you see kids in costumes on Halloween night, don’t hit them with your car, or better yet, don’t drive your car on Halloween night if you don’t have to.”

I know, I know – it needed work, but in my head it had potential.

Scary Jack-O-Lanterns. Text reads: Eating my Words Instead of Treats

Then my best friend’s mom went and died unexpectedly on Sunday night and suddenly not only did I lose all ability to think in terms of funny but all of my previously hilarious lines about there being no good reason to drive around on the one night of the year when you know there are going to be lots of children crossing the road suddenly became really assholey. An afternoon funeral, as it turns out, is a quite compelling reason for a large number of cars to be on the road at just such a time.

So instead of that post, I want to recognize my friend Jenn, who has faced an unspeakably horrible situation with an unimaginable amount of grace and courage. If you happen to have a few extra dollars burning a hole in your pocket, consider making a donation to Lupus Ontario in honour of her mom.

And now for some gratuitously adorable Halloween pictures:

Ben holding his pumpkin Doppleganger

The instructions from Farmer Charles on Molly’s school field trip were to select a pumpkin that looked like your head, so Ben brought him that one for inspection.

Ben and Molly and I “carved” pumpkins with the help of Ian’s power drill*, several chisels, and our 8 year-old neighbour Rebecca – air quotes because mostly Ben rode his bike and Molly supervised Rebecca’s pumpkin-gut-scooping. Rebecca very kindly helped Molly draw her pumpkin faces and Ben did his own.

Clockwise from top left: Minion pumpkin, scaaaaarry pumpkins (ooooOOooooOOOooo), and Ben holding the “pumpkin doorstop”

Ben: “MOMMY!! I WANTED TO USE THE KNIFE!! Our Halloween safety rules from school said, ‘make sure a grown-up is WITH you when you carve it,’ NOT, ‘the grown-up should do it FOR YOU!!”

***

Rebecca: “I’m trying to make it look like a kid drew it.”

Me: *raises eyebrows*

Rebecca: “I mean, a LITTLER kid.”

***

Ben: “How do you make a SCARY pumpkin face?”

Molly: “You say, ‘OooooOOooOOOOOooo,’ while you draw it.”

***

Me: “OW!”

My brother James: “Careful. That’s probably sharp. It is a chisel, you know.”

Me: [redacted]

***

Ian: “Oops.”

Me: [also redacted]

Close-up of the minion head, the reason for the “oops.”

And finally, my split-personality minion Ben (heralded by the grade eights at his school as “OMG THE BEST COSTUME EVER”*) and Molly, who was, “Uh…Pinkalicious. No, a fairy. No, a fairy princess. No, a pink princess fairy. No, Pinkalicious dressed as a fairy princess with a pink tiara. No, not Pinkalicious OR a fairy OR a princess OR a pink fairy princess – AGNES from Despicable Me. No, NOT Agnes. A pink fairy princess with fairy wings but NOT Pinkalicious dressed as a fairy. No, a fairy princess. But not with fairy wings. Just a princess. Rapunzel.”

Minion(s) Ben and Rapunzel Molly

~ karyn

*Next year, jigsaw.

**For the DIYers out there – the minion costume is a collapsible laundry hamper from IKEA, purple and yellow felt, mason jar screw-top lids, purple tulle, denim overalls, black pleather pants** cut and pasted to be overalls, 2 pairs of kids shoes, gloves, and various other bits and bobs. I cut the lid out of the hamper and cut arm holes. Everything is secured with staples, safety pins, and/or hot glue (no sewing required). Ben is dressed as a minion underneath as well with overalls, yellow sweatshirt, and a crocheted minion hat courtesy of the fabulous Ingrid at Loveable Stitches (full disclosure: I’m also at Loveable Stitches. Check us out!)

***Size TWO pleather pants that I found second-hand at Once Upon a Child. WHO MAKES PLEATHER PANTS FOR TWO-YEAR-OLDS?? AND WHO BUYS PLEATHER PANTS FOR THEIR TWO-YEAR-OLD???****

****Okay, fine. Yes, *I* would probably buy pleather pants for my two-year-old. Are you happy now?

No Razorblade Apples For Us, Thanks – Halloween Safety Part 1

Oct29

‘Tis the season – in my opinion, the MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!! (I absolutely LOVE Halloween!!).

There are, in fact, those who believe it’s possible my family goes a little too far when it comes to getting into the spirit of the season. There was that one year when I guess the neighbourhood kids found the combination of the front lawn graveyard complete with body parts sticking out of leaf piles (perhaps occasionally replaced by my big brother who would jump out at people) PLUS the Blair Witch Project stick figures hanging from a porch roof a LEETLE intimidating, as evidenced by the distinct drop in the number of trick-or-treaters, usually around 400-500, to about…uh…3. (We heard whispers at other houses of, “Are you going to that really SCARY house? I’m staying away from there!!”) Reluctantly, we toned it down a touch after that….

Now I focus my energy on my pumpkins and their costumes…oh, and of course, carving my jack-o-lanterns too!

This year we’ve gone with a Despicable Me 2 theme for Ben and Molly:

Of course, with Ben at “big kid school” now, with the season comes a crash course in Halloween safety. Don’t get me wrong – I’m all for safety but the emphasis on CHECK YOUR CANDY AND DON’T EAT ANYTHING THAT’S LOOKS STRANGE OR IS OPEN OR IS NOT PREPACKAGED OR IS HOMEMADE OR IS PURPLE BECAUSE SOME NAMELESS FACELESS STRANGER WHO IS ALSO YOUR NEIGHBOUR COULD BE GETTING HIS OR HER JOLLIES OFF FOR UNKNOWN REASONS BY PUTTING ANTHRAX OR RAZORBLADES* IN IT.

Are Evil Minions Putting Razors in Your Apples? Halloween Safety – Part 1

Yes, stuff happens, and there are creepy strangers in the world, but for the most part, we are coming to realize as a society that “stranger danger” has been blown way out of proportion and that the greatest dangers to children in terms of being deliberately harmed stems from those people closest to them.

As such, I have gone with a strategy with Ben and Molly of emphasizing talking openly with trusted adults and not keeping other people’s secrets. They know that they can talk to me and Ian about anything without judgement, and they can ask us any question and we will give them the best answer we can. They also know that they do not have to keep a secret that someone else, especially an adult, asks them to, and again, if in doubt, they can talk to us.

When Ben came home from school talking about these Halloween safety videos telling him not to eat any opened or homemade treats because they could be tampered with and to get his parents to check all of his candy, I had two concerns:

First, the emphasis on poisoned treats creates anxiety around a danger that is statistically insignificant while ignoring the true hazards (Hello, choking hazards? Allergies?).

Second, giving the child all of these rules to consider places the responsibility on him or her instead of on the grown-ups (“I know I’m supposed to get my parents to check it, but as long as I take out all of the broken packages and homemade treats, I can eat ALL THE THINGS!! Woo hoo!”).

I reframed the rules to fit our family’s paradigm (Oh yeah: Two 50c child studies words FTW!):

“I think what the video was trying to tell you was to make sure that you ask a grown-up before you open any of your treats.”

“Why?”

“Lots of reasons: You could be allergic to something; it could be a choking hazard for you or Molly; it could be dirty or have germs on it or have gone bad; like the video showed you, someone could have done something to it that could hurt you, but that doesn’t happen very often at all; and of course you could get sick if you eat too much of your candy all at once. That’s why you should always show your candy to a grown-up, like me or daddy, and ask us for permission first before you eat any of it.”

When it comes to raising “street-safe” kids, an open line of communication with a trusted adult is far more effective than unnecessary anxiety around non-existent shadowy strangers.

The most important safety rule of all, whether it involves eating Halloween candy, keeping a secret, or meeting that nice boy you’ve been chatting with on Facebook, is Always. Ask. First.

~ karyn

*Seriously. Do they even make razorblades any more? I’m trying to picture someone concealing a Lady Bic or a Schick Intuition in a caramel apple and it’s just not working.

The Straight Poop on Potty Humour

Oct21

I believe very strongly in teaching my kids to use appropriate behaviour and language at all times. There is no room in Team Pickles for potty humour and poop jokes, and if my children veer into bathroom humour territory, I gently admonish them and remind them that

What do you mean, no-one’s buying it? I’ll have you know that we don’t stand for that sort of…

All right, fine. Maybe I’m not as consistent as I perhaps should be on the whole potty humour thing…but y’know…sometimes…shtuff happens.

The Straight Poop on Potty Humour
(Or, I think my credibility just went down the toilet)

Yesterday when Ben declared that he was about to have his third (3^rd!!) poop of the day, I foolishly led us down the rabbit hole of poop jokes (my apologies, Ben’s teachers!). It started out so innocently:

“Ben, you’re the poopiest guy I’ve ever seen! I have never heard of anyone pooping as much as you! You’re like the pooper of all poopers. If you were a dinosaur, you’d be a Poopasaurus Rex!!”

*giggle giggle giggle *

“If you were a tropical fish, you’d be a pooping tetra!”

*giggle giggle giggle *

“If you were a lunch, you’d be…pooperoni and cheese!!”

*giggle giggle giggle *

“If you were a breakfast you’d be cereal with poopghurt!!”

*howls*

“If you were a dinner, you’d be spaghetti and poopballs!!”

“If I were a book, I’d be I Have To Go POOP!!”

“If you were a Dr. SEUSS book you’d be The Cat in the Hat Goes Poop! Or Horton Hears a Poop!”

“Yeah! And it would be by Dr. POOPS!”

“If you were a Treehouse show, you’d be Franklin and Poops!!”

“Or Thomas the Tank Engine and Poops! And if I were a Disney Junior show, I’d be Stella and Poop!”

“If you were a song, you’d be I Knew You Were Poopy When You Walked In.”

“If you were a breakfast cereal, you’d be Froot Poops!”

“If I was in a band I’d be a poopcussionist!!”

“If you were a musical instrument, you’d be a poop organ!!”

“Or I’d play the BAGPOOPS!!!”

“If you were a pizza topping, you’d be…”

“POOPERONI AND CHEESE!!!”

*total collapse*

Sorry, mom…

~ karyn

How to Traumatize the Neighbourhood Kids in 2 Easy Steps

Oct17

How to Traumatize the Neighbourhood Kids in 2 Easy Steps

Raise your kids to be philosophical about matters of life and death in the animal world.
Let them invite friends over and watch the fun!

“Traumatize the Neighbourhood Kids in 2 Easy Steps!”

My childhood dream was to be a marine biologist, so I have always been interested in keeping tropical fish. Our last aquarium, a 25 gallon freshwater tank with an assortment of tropical fish, made it through our fire as well as 4 moves within 3 homes within 2 cities before settling in its (thus far) final placement in the front hall of our house.

While Ben was a toddler, all of the remaining fish passed away one at a time and were not replaced, leaving us with a working, filtering tank, but no livestock, and since I planned to eventually re-stock it, I kept it running…for…uh…five years.

Scene: Ben giving the “house tour” to any new guests to our home

Guest: “Wow, a fish tank! How many fish do you have?”

Ben: “None. They all died.”

Guest: “Oh! That’s too bad…You must have been very sad.”

Ben: “Not really. They died a long time ago.”

Guest: “Uh…”

Me (in my head): “I really should either empty that tank or get new fish before people start to think we’re weird…uh…er.”

Recently Ben became very interested in ichthyology and aquaria (Yay!!! I’m going to live out my childhood dream vicariously through my kid!! But…uh…no pressure, bud…) and begged me to finally nail down a timeline for restoring the tank to its former glory. Two weekends ago we cleaned it (ugh):

Ben cleaning the model coral reef

Molly scrubbing the plastic plants

Empty (clean-ish) tank

Filling the jug to pour into the tank. Funny story: When we went to move the tank for the first time, after the fire (I’ll get to that in another post – be patient!) I went to the grocery store to ask if I could pay the $10 deposit for some empty water cooler jugs. The girl refused, saying, “I can’t let you do that because you could bring them back and we wouldn’t know what you had put in them.” I said, “But I assume you don’t just fill them up with water again without sanitizing them first, so what does it matter?” She said, “But you could use them for something gross and then return them.” I said, “Like…uh…cleaning a fish tank? Well, yeah, I could, but I could also get a full one, empty it, and do that anyway.” She said, “I’m not selling you an empty jug.” I said, “Fine,” turned to the guy behind me in line carrying 2 empty jugs, and said, “If I give you the $20 you’d get from her for those, can I have them?” He said, “Sure,” and gave them to me and I smiled at her and walked out.

…and last Friday we got a school of neon tetras and an albino cory to start things off. Sadly, one of the tetras did not survive the weekend.

The tank in its current clean and stocked state.

Scene: Ben showing his friend the newly stocked tank

Friend: “How many are there?”

Ben: “Five. There were six but one died. We have to take the body back to the store so they’ll give us a new one. It’s in the freezer.”

Me (in my head): “I’m glad he didn’t mention the part where I accidentally poured the other fish body down the drain.”

I seem to be having bad luck with tetras (or perhaps more accurately, the fish store seems to be having bad luck with them) because we went back to the store yesterday for a school of fan-tail guppies and a replacement neon who promptly up and died in the car on the way home.

Scene: Ben and his friend admiring the baggie of new fish acclimating to the tank

Friend: “Look at that little one!”

Ben: “That’s the dead one.”

Friend: “I like those little ones.”

Ben: “Those are neon tetras. They’re the same kind as the dead one.”

Me (in my head): “At least they haven’t noticed that the guppies are snacking on the corpse.”

Artists rendition of the cannibalistic guppy feeding frenzy.

Fortunately for all involved they lost interest and went outside to ride bikes before they noticed the cannibalistic guppy feeding frenzy with the other neon standing (swimming? floating?) vigil for their fallen comrade. As my friend Jenn put it, “It’s like some sort of Sicilian mob-devised psychological torture.”

Between this and the fact that a friend posted on Facebook yesterday that she had dreamed about helping my mom and me defend the house from a zombie horde (successfully, so I’ve got that going for me…) I’m a little concerned about what Halloween night might bring.

Uh…Julia? The zombies weren’t by any chance scaly and blue and red striped, were they?

~ karyn

Let Sleeping Babies Lie (no matter how uncomfortable they look)

Sep24

When it comes to Team Pickles, babies, and sleep, our luck has been pretty even.

Molly asleep in her crib (in a manner of speaking). Caption reads: “Let Sleeping Babies Lie no matter how uncomfortable they may look!”

Actually, when it comes to EVERYTHING, our luck is pretty even. My friend Catherine once said of Ian and I that we have the most luck of anyone she’s ever met. The problem is that on any given day we have no idea if it’s going to be GOOD luck or BAD luck. One day we’re winning a top-of-the-line trampoline because of a tongue-in-cheek Facebook post and the next we’re burning down our apartment 6 days after our wedding (true story – I’ll post about that some other time).

But I digress.

Ben was an easy sleeper pretty much from day one. Like any newborn, he woke in the night to eat, but by about 4 months he was easily sleeping through. To make things even simpler, he would sleep anywhere and everywhere – in the car…in the stroller…in his highchair…in the middle of the floor if that was where he happened to be when he got tired, and he slept so soundly that I used to clip his nails while he napped.

Case(s) in Point: 3 of the many “Ben sleeping in random positions” pictures

When he was a toddler, his afternoon routine was lunch followed by a bottle in his highchair, after which he would immediately fall asleep and I would recline the highchair, turn off the kitchen light, and go down to the basement to work for a few hours while he napped.

Bedtime was just as easy – if we were the slightest bit late starting his bedtime routine, Ben would bring us a bottle, grab our hands and beg, “Bed? Bed now?”

Molly, on the other hand…Oh, my Molly-Monkey…Baby Molly was the complete polar opposite. Molly woke up frequently to feed, and the frequency increased rather than decreased with age. As a newborn, Molly would only sleep in her swing or in Ian or my arms. For her first three months, I slept on the futon in her room with her swaddled in the swing beside me. Every morning I would carry the swing downstairs to the family room so she could nap in it there, and then Ian would carry it back upstairs for the night. I perfected the art of transferring her seamlessly from my arms into the swing while it was rocking (the trick is to start rocking your arms to match the motion of the swing before you put her down, then slide your arms out from under). She slept fitfully, waking up at the slightest noise or change in atmosphere. The sounds of a sneeze used to send her into orbit.

If at this point you’re thinking something like, “OMG I wonder if she knows that babies aren’t supposed to sleep in swings I’d better comment and tell her that it’s not recommended,” please rest assured that I’ve had that same conversation with many a Public Health nurse and that I’m quite comfortable with the decisions I made.

Around 3 months, Molly (my future Olympic gymnast) discovered that she could, while tightly swaddled, somehow flip herself over onto her stomach and wriggle backwards out of the swing. The first time I heard a “thud” and found her on the floor in front of the empty swing grinning, I thought it was a fluke, but by the third I had to concede that the days of her sleeping safely in the swing were over.

Photographic evidence of swaddled 3-month-old Molly deliberately wriggling out of the swing

She transitioned (unhappily) to the crib at night, waking about every half-hour to hour, and during the day would nap for a half-hour to an hour at a time, but only in my arms. My work productivity suffered significantly, but on the flip side I got really, really good at online euchre.

One of the very few known photographs of baby Molly asleep

Finally we hit a breaking point around 7 months, which, probably not coincidentally, is also when my PPD starting hitting pretty hard. Molly wouldn’t sleep for more than 45 minutes at a time and had no predictable sleep schedule. I was a zombie and Ian wasn’t much better.

Completely at the end of my rope, I did what I always do in these situations, and I went to Chapters, sat on the floor in the “Parenting” section, and flipped through books until I found one I liked. The book I selected was Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, by Dr. Marc Weissbluth. As with most, if not all parenting books, this one has its supporters and its detractors, so all I can say is that without hyperbole, this book literally saved, if not my life, at least my sanity, marriage, and relationship with my children.

Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child
(cover image from amazon.ca)

What I really like about the book (which we took to calling “The Book” – bolded and capitalized) was that Dr. Weissbluth does not offer a one-size-fits-all solution; instead he describes different infant temperaments and sleep problem and offers suggestions tailored to your needs.

Babies like Molly are described as suffering from extreme fussiness/colic. He notes that it he adds the “extreme fussiness” designation because not all of these babies experience the level of crying that would be deemed “colic”, but instead experience “an unsettled, agitated, wakeful state that would lead to crying if ignored by parents.” (p 142). This certainly described Molly as an infant!

Dr. Weissbluth’s overall theory is that most children are not getting as much sleep as they need, and the more overtired they get, the more difficulty they have falling asleep, compounding the issue by building an ever-increasing sleep debt.

For all infants (and really, all children) he recommends watching for “drowsy signs” (such as decreased activity, slower motions, quieter, calmer, yawning) to determine the optimal time to put them to bed. Actions such as fussing, rubbing eyes, and being irritable or cranky actually indicate overtiredness; if the infant is showing those signs, she is already overtired and will have more difficulty falling asleep.

For sleep-training a fussy/high-needs/colicky infant like Molly, he recommends the admittedly controversial “cry-it-out” method – putting her down in her crib when drowsy and then leaving her alone to fall asleep. “Cry-it-out” is not for everyone, but I was willing to give it a shot, since responding when she cried was clearly not the answer.

Dr. Weissbluth also makes a point that resonates with me given my educational background in psychology and behaviour management: The only thing that graduated crying methods such as Ferber’s (in which leave the infant for longer and longer periods of time before responding) teach the baby is that they have to continue crying for longer each night to get a response. You still eventually reach the point where you have to let your baby cry-it-out indefinitely; all you have done is prolonged the agony for both of you.

So Cry-It-Out it would be: We picked the night, and for the first time in her 7 months, I put Molly down at the first “drowsy signs,” much earlier than usual, still awake but calm, and left the room. She cried, and I cried, but I didn’t go back in, and 17 minutes later she fell asleep and slept through the night for the first time EVER.

The next morning she woke up in a fantastic mood, and bolstered by this initial success I put her down for three Dr. Weissbluth-recommended naps – a morning nap, an afternoon nap, and an early evening nap – the next day, and I’ll be damned if she didn’t fall asleep instantly and sleep for 2 hours each time.

Seventeen minutes, I tell you. Seventeen Dr. Weissbluth-approved minutes, and I had a different baby on my hands.

Molly remains a difficult sleeper, which will probably never change. Our paediatrician points at poor sleepers (*ahem* myself included) on both sides of the family and says we may have lucked out with Ben but we were pretty much guaranteed at least one terrible sleeper.

Any change to the routine derails her sleep habits. Travel is a nightmare – we can basically count on her being awake until after we fall asleep and eventually collapsing out of sheer exhaustion. When we went to Germany last year Ian and I took turns – every night one of us stayed with Molly while the other ate dinner with the grown-ups. If one of us didn’t stay upstairs with her, she would scream for hours, waking up Ben and her cousins.

After that 2 week trip it was another 6 weeks before we could get her to go to sleep without one of us sitting with her and at least another 6 weeks after that until things were completely back to “normal” – please clearly visualize those as mimed air-quotes, because Molly’s “normal” is anything but.

“Normal” sleep for Molly goes in cycles. She will go for a couple of months with no problems, then wake up crying one night, and if we go in to soothe her, she’ll wake up twice the next night…then 3 times…then 5….until we do a night or two of crying-it-out to “reset” her back to…again that funny little air-quoted word “normal.” But at least that normal is a far cry (so to speak) from what we experienced in her first year, and for that I am immeasurably thankful.

Of course, it can’t last, can it?

~ karyn

Guest Post: Kindness Heroes Help The Earth, by Ben Pickles

Sep9

Today I have invited a guest poster, Ben Pickles (age 6), to share some of his thoughts with you.

Ben is 6 years old. Last year at school he was in Montessori. This year he is going into Grade 1 in French Immersion and he has started riding the school bus! He is excited to use his new Angry Birds pencil case and Angry Birds pens from his Aunt Yen Yen. Ben has guest-posted before on PicklesINK and also on Raising Wild Things. He is the author of Your Brio Peak Story Collection. One of Ben’s favourite books and movies is The Lorax, and Ben likes to help the environment just like the Lorax does. In the future Ben plans to be a premier of a province called Benville. Benville will be environmentally friendly, with wind turbines and solar panels to make electricity so we do not have to burn coal and oil and gas that makes air pollution.

Ben and Molly with their full litter bag. Caption Reads: Kindness Heroes Help The Earth, Guest Post by Ben

Litter is garbage that people throw on the ground instead of throwing it out or recycling it. When I see litter, I feel like I should pick it up. I think that sometimes people throw things out of their cars because the cars will just run over them.

A little while ago, mommy, Molly and I were walking to the mailbox and the library. I saw some litter on the ground and I wanted to pick it up and carry it to a garbage. Mommy had two bags – one was a throw-outable bag and one wasn’t, so we put her letters in the other bag and used the throw-outable one to carry the litter so we could just throw out the bag with the litter when we got to the library.

Photo of Ben and Molly picking up litter on the side of the road

On the rest of the walk downtown, we saw some more litter so we decided to pick up all the litter that we saw. Molly and I worked as a team – I held the bag and I showed Molly the litter and Molly picked it up and put it in the bag because I didn’t like the stinky smells.

Molly thought the litter was called “glitter” and every time she saw it she said, “Glitter! Glitter! More glitter!”

When we got downtown the bag was full of litter and we put it in the garbage at the library. We decided that every time we go on a walk we will bring a bag to pick up litter.

Ben and Molly carrying their litter bag together

The thing that people litter most is cigarettes. I have seen that there are garbages for them, but people just litter them, and they have already done something that is not good for the environment – polluted the air with smoke. I wish I could pick up the cigarettes but they are too germy. I wish people who smoke cigarettes would put them into garbages instead of littering.

I like picking up litter, but I still wish that there wasn’t so much litter because litter pollutes the Earth. I wish that people would hold onto their garbage until they find a garbage or a recycling box to put it in because that would be nicer to the environment.

I would like to ask everyone who reads this blog post to pick up one piece of litter today and put it in the garbage (or if you find a box or can or anything that needs to be recycled find a recycling bin). Remember the 3 R’s – Reduce, Reuse, Recycle!

Like it says in How to Help the Earth – by the Lorax:

If we work together,

the earth will get better.

The land will be cleaner.

The soil will be wetter.

The sun will shine brighter.

The trees will be greener.

The sky will be bluer.

The air will be cleaner.

~ Ben Pickles

Show Ben some Comment Love here!!

From Sulks and Sadness to Sushi and Smiles: Ben and Molly’s First Day of School

Sep4

Today was the big day – back to school for Ben and Molly!

Photo Collage: Ben on porch with Molly in background, Daddy and Ben hugs, and Molly at sushi. Caption reads “From Sulks + Sadness to Sushi + Smiles – Team Pickles is Back to School”

This summer has *figuratively* flown by. As anyone who knows me can attest, I was never cut out to be a full-time stay-at-home mom. The work-at-home/half-time school balance that I have going on with Ben and Molly works perfectly for me. Summers can throw that routine off but this summer was a really good one; we crammed in lots of fun activities but also kept up a fairly workable routine of daycamp and me trying desperately to get all my work done while also rehearsing and performing two plays (but more on that in another post).

As you may have noticed (or, you know, actually more likely not because you were also off enjoying your fantastic summers that also figuratively flew by!) I haven’t posted very much this summer, so you can look forward to some summer recap and catch-up posts over the next couple of weeks!

As I mentioned a few posts ago, Ben has a big transition this year, leaving his beloved Montessori school for Grade One French Immersion, all day, every day, and with a school bus ride to boot. Molly also has changes in store, moving up to the Casa classroom and going from four mornings a week to five. There are a few other kids at the school that Ben knows from Montessori and other places, but none in his class and none that he knows very well.

My anxiety around Ben’s new school has been through the roof – most likely because I’ve been projecting my own less than blissful elementary school experience onto him. It’s not that I have particularly horrible memories but I also don’t have particularly happy shiny ones. Mostly I remember a lot of being bored and not having any really close friends (I did have a camp best friend but she lived 4 hours away so we couldn’t do much in the way of playdates).

I vividly remember my dad bringing me to visit my senior kindergarten classroom before the beginning of the school year and forever alienating the teacher, Mrs. Lambursky, by scanning the classroom and then asking in a disgusted tone, “But where’s the Science Table???” My parents tried to make it up to her at Christmas with a lovely gift of sheep-themed oven mitts (lamb –> Lambursky –> get it? See, I come by it honestly) but it didn’t seem to do the trick.

The grade two memory that stands out most is two of us being sent to the principal’s office and interrogated and accused of stealing our seatmate’s fruit roll-up, which she later found buried in her desk. There was never any apology and the injustice still stings.

I had a love/hate relationship with grade three. One the one hand, my teacher, Miss Methven, was wonderful and kept a stash of small prizes in her desk that we could earn through academic achievement and good behaviour. One the other hand, whenever she left the room, a girl named Jerky McJerkhead* would stand on a chair and lead a popularity contest (of a sort): “Put up your hand if you hate Karyn! Everyone who hates Karyn, put up your hand!!” Not just me, of course. That would have been cruel. She had a list of favourite targets and worked her way through in rotation.

Grade four was great, in large part because I went to a new school – so I have to admit, there is something to be said for a change of scene! Twenty-four of us unsuspecting 9 year-olds were bused away to form a full-time gifted classroom across town (6 girls and 18 boys, which has always raised questions for me about gender-bias either in the gifted testing itself or parents’ decision-making around the school change). We had an amazing teacher, Mr. Keay, and were a very close-knit class. I bonded with a girl named Nicole over our mutual love of card games and we played Crazy 8’s constantly…on the bus, on the playground, in our desks until Mr. Keay figured it out and moved us across the room from each other (le sigh).

My grade 4 class picture. Can you pick me out?

After that was yet another transition, this time to the all-girls school I attended until graduation and where over time I made many very close friends and had…well…good and bad experiences, endeared myself to some staff members and alienated others, received a fine education that was probably worth every penny, and learned the most effective ways to make your kilt seem long enough and your shirt appear to be tucked in when neither actually is.

Like I said…the majority of my anxiety about Ben’s first day is wrapped up in my own experience, so I’ve been working reeeeeallly hard to keep it from impacting him.

Ben has been really excited about his new school, especially after we visited in the spring, met the principal, and had a tour. He confessed to me a few days ago, “Mommy, I’m excited about my new school, but I’m also a little nervous about meeting all those new people. Sometimes when I do something like that I get a little…shy.” I did the only thing a reasonable parent could do of course and cancelled his registration and vowed to homeschool him through to his graduate degree pulled myself together and assured him that everyone feels like that and lots of his new friends will be feeling shy too, even the ones who have been at that school who are going to a new classroom with a new teacher.

Of course, before setting foot in his new classroom, he still needed to be outfitted with school supplies. After The Conversation about backpacks, peer pressure, and bullying, Ben gave the backpack question a lot of consideration. We looked at all of his options online and in stores and in the end he went with:

Ben’s new Thomas backpack (with suitcase wheels!) and school supplies

Thomas, of course! Let it never be said that Ben is boy who doesn’t know what he wants.

He had also considered Dr. Seuss as a backpack option but we weren’t able to find it, so I offered to make him a marker roll out of Dr. Seuss fabric (let me know if you’re interested and I will post a tutorial about that). I asked him if he would like a different fabric inside where it wouldn’t show as much and he inspected my fabrics carefully and said, “Princesses. Because I like princesses, and it’s now or never.”

Ben’s fabric choices for his marker roll: Dr. Seuss on the outside, princesses on the inside.

Ian, also the veteran of many childhood moves and therefore many school transitions, planned the ultimate back-to-school day for everyone: He took the day off work, bought back-to-school gifts for the kids, booked me a pedicure (and himself a bucket of balls at the driving range), and told Ben that dinner was his choice (“PIZZA!!!!”).

The morning drop-offs started with Molly to Montessori, grumpy, but quick to cheer up when she saw her friends.

Molly and her friend Jade ham it up for the camera

Next up was Ben to his new school, where the principal made his day by recognizing him: “It’s Ben Pickles!!” but unfortunately then he was thrown off when he learned that we were supposed to drop him off outside instead of at his classroom door like he had imagined. Honestly, I’m surprised he held it together as long as he did and had expected that something would cause his calm veneer to crumble.

Sad cuddles with daddy

Daddy cuddles helped a lot but in the end it was his principal’s offer to let us go in with him that did the trick. Once we brought him in, he changed into his indoor shoes and then with a nervous smile and wave was ready to start his new life as a primary school student.

Grinning Ben on the porch ready to go with grumpy Molly in the background

After that, Ian dropped me off for 90 minutes of bliss at the spa while he hit some balls and then we headed back for Molly’s pick up time. Although the only thing she would say in response to questions about what she did was a cheerful, “I don’t know!” we gathered that she had had a good morning. Over a sushi lunch and manicures she opened up a little more, telling me that they had sung songs about “butts” that went “Poop. Poop poop poop poop.” I may have to organize a parent-teacher interview…

Molly enjoying a bowl of miso soup

Finally, the moment of truth: We returned to Ben’s school for the pick-up. We hardly recognized the cheerful, confident 6 year-old who marched out the door bursting with stories about his day. The highlights, it seems, were the special “teacher introducement” in the gym and the fact that the playground possesses not one but TWO particularly slippery fireman’s poles.

Into every life, though, a little rain must fall, and there was one sour note – When Ian asked if anyone said anything about his Thomas backpack, Ben’s response was an utterly indignant, “They took NO interest AT ALL!”

Oh well. C’est la vie.

~ karyn

*Names have been changed.

Molly-Moo’s First Pun

Aug26

You may have noticed this already but we have a bit of a…punning…problem here at Team Pickles. About a year ago I wrote about my proudest mommy moment – when Ben made his first original pun – and now it’s Molly’s turn.

Molly in her typical week-day attire. Caption: Beneath this unassuming exterior beats the heart of a true pun-master.

For a while last year Molly was wearing dance leotards to school, until her teachers asked me not to send her in them because it presented difficulties when it came to bathroom time. Soon after, Molly put on a leotard again in the morning and I said, “Molly, you have to change. What would Miss Sally-Jesse-Raphael* say?” to which Molly replied, “She would say, ‘Molly-Moo!’ and then she would say, ‘That’s awful!’”

Naturally this turned into a running joke, sometimes incorporating puns such as the following:

Ben’s: “Molly, what would Miss S-J-R say if you brought your breakfast to school?” “I don’t know!” “She would say, ‘Molly-Moo! That’s waffle!’”

And my: “Molly, what would Miss S-J-R if you brought a piece of string all tangled up to school?” “I don’t know!” “She would say, ‘Molly-Moo! That’s knot good!’”

Tonight at dinner, Molly floored us with, “Hey! What would Miss S-J-R say if I brought this knife to school?” “Uh…” said Ian and I.

(Knife? Knife? WHERE could she possibly be going with this?)

“She would say, ‘Molly-Moo!’ *dramatic pause* That’s not KNIFE!!”

I’m so proud!

~ karyn

*Not her teacher’s real name.