For the Love of Dog.....

Bear with me if this particular post feels like the ramblings of a woman coming undone....realistically, it kind of is......

In a past life (before I had kids, not some spiritual transcendence) I was into dogs.  Ok, mind out of the gutter ladies, I was involved in a lot of things dogs.  Obedience Trials, Shows, Protection Sport - I did it all, and I did some of it really well.  I spent every spare moment, and lots of moments that I didn't have to spare, dedicated to it.  My competition dog is Arson, who you'll meet in a second.  He is one of the true loves of my life.  Arson and I have spent hundreds of hours together travelling, have stayed in some lovely hotels, have stayed in some far-from-lovely hotels, we've won together, we've totally lost together, he's let me down, and I've let him down.  We've fought, we've triumphed, we've celebrated all sorts of things....he is what is commonly referred to as, my soul dog.  I have other dogs, but they are not Arson.  And for some reason from the first time I met him as a little puppy (who actually had an owner, which is a long story I won't tell here) I loved him.  A lot. Like, I don't have any of my children's names tattooed on my body, but you guessed it - I've got his.

So, as every first time mom thinks (cough, naively) when baby comes, life will continue on as usual with the blessed addition of your little person who will not interrupt the flow of said life in any way at all other than adding the most adorable presence to all activities that you will seamlessly carry on with.  Right.  We know how that goes.  Suddenly brushing my teeth was an accomplishment.  Dog training 20+ hours a week??  Hmm....

Days turn into weeks, which turn into months, which turned into years (and the addition of the Pirate) and my best intentions had yet to materialize. 
Not wanting to abandon my passion altogether, I attempt to take every opportunity to stay pitifully involved however I can.  Last weekend was a great example.  I decided to take Princess on a road trip so she could attend her first dog show.   Although she had no idea what it was, she talked about it gleefully for days prior, and on dog show morning could barely contain herself.  We drove the hour to the show and when we got there, Princess was in heaven surrounded by all the puppies.  As we were approaching the show building I ran into a friend of mine from the kennel club I belong to who had just been in the ring and gotten her first let of her Utility title.  Now, for those of you not in the know, in the world of dog obedience trials, Utility is really as high as you can go.  Not a lot of people get there, it's really tough and takes hundreds of hours of training time to teach your dog some pretty complex exercises (I won't bore the non-dog people with details - if you're curious use our dear friend google :)  Needless to say, she was thrilled.  So was I.  It was an awesome way to start our day.
Well, we didn't last long at the show, two year olds don't find too much enthralling about a dog show once the novelty of petting dogs wears off.....which happens pretty fast when two hundred dogs are packed into a building.....so we didn't get to stick around for much.  But, thanks to social media (what was the world like before FB??) I found out that my friend had earned her Utility title that weekend passing 3 of 4 trials.  Once again, for non dog people you won't get this, but that is a serious accomplishment.  Like serious.  Doesn't happen often.  And not only did she pass, but she did it with some pretty awesome scores.  (Congrats again my friend - you rock!!)

That night, as I laid in bed I couldn't sleep.  All of a sudden it was like the heavy weight of sadness had unpacked it's bags in me and I couldn't figure out why.  Actually, I could figure out why, I just didn't want to admit it to myself.  I was sad.....no, I was mourning.....
Motherhood wasn't the most graceful transition I've ever made in my life.  It was more like I tripped over two left feet while drinking heavily, fell, and motherhood was where I landed. It was in that moment that I finally admitted I missed me.  I missed the person that I was before I had kids.  I missed being really good at something.  I missed being selfish and spending ridiculous amounts of time and money on something that made me feel good.  Hell, I even missed the seedy hotels and the gas station sushi.....but more than anything, I missed my dream.  You see, that title that my friend got, was one that a lifetime ago I was training for.  And it wasn't until that moment that I finally realized (or at least consciously admitted to myself) it wasn't going to happen.  At least not with Arson. 

I'm going to be totally honest.  That hurts my heart.  And even as I write this, the tears are flowing.  There is a part of me that feels sickeningly guilty for the way I'm acting over the whole thing (guilty enought that I actually pulled over on the highway while driving home and texted a friend to unload this onto someone else), and there probably aren't a whole lot of people who will understand.  I have a beautiful family.  I have two gorgeous and healthy children who I have been blessed with.  I have hopes and dreams for them and our future.  But I no longer have that dream that's just for me...not the way I wanted it anyway. 

This is the part of motherhood that no one talks about, and certainly no one tells you about.  This is the kind of thing you say to a group of mothers (and I can almost hear the collective sighs of disapproval as I type this)....and everyone gets all uncomfortable at the thought that we should be anything other than delighted at our role in life.  I don't care who you are, or how infatuated you are with your role as a mother, I know....I absolutely know that at some point, even if for just a brief fleeting second, we've all felt that loss.  I know that not everyone has felt it like I did, and weeped on and off for days, but it's there.  In all of us.  And maybe if we all talk about it a little more, and judge each other a lot less, it wouldn't be so hard to take....maybe it would be, but at least we wouldn't feel like we had to go it alone.....I'm not sure how long it'll take for me to finish mouring the loss of this particular dream....it doesn't help that when I look at my love Arsy I see the grey in his muzzle, or know that when I enter him from now on he'll be a Veteran....and that really, I have far less free time in my life than I did before the Pirate came.....all I know is that I'm going to give myself permission to take this road of indulgence.....and I'm going to talk about it for anyone else who has something they've been holding close to their heart that they miss.....because really those secret things we hold onto do make up the pieces of who we really are.  Regardless of how trivial it seems, this is me.  I'm okay with that.  In fact, I'm kind of proud of that.  I had, and will one day have again, something in my life that I worked really hard for.  I got to see the payoff from all my hard work.  I was invested, I cared, and I was successful.  I got to travel, meet incredible people who shared my passion (and who I miss terribly - cue the waterworks).....I got to spend time with my buddy doing something we both loved.  As I look at him, it seems like he's made the transition pretty seamlessly.  Kids, and walks, and toddlers with food....life still seems pretty good for Arson.  Maybe I should take yet another lesson from my boy....and you know, judging from the glee in which Arson is currently tackling his beloved squeaky toy that he actually won at a trial....I think he'd tell me it'll be okay too.

Thank god for the love of a dog.

Meet Arson.....

Ch. EternalFire's Ignite My Soul Sch1 CDX BH CGN TT

Rottweiler Club Of Canada Hall of Fame

Multi V Rated

Best Puppy In Specialty Show

RCC Regional Specialty Best of Winners

(and love of my life)

you can visit Arson's awesome breeder here.

My Fabulous Mommies.....

To all the Beautiful Mommies out there....

To the world you are just one little person, but to one little person you are the whole world...

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY MY FRIENDS!

Take the day to be the fabulous women that you are - enjoy, get pampered, spoil yourself, and remember that sometimes it's okay to find happiness at the mall!

 (especially when that happiness is funded by your significant other's credit card while said significant other is home with the children!!)

If only.....

There have probably been a million times (and I really don't think I'm exaggerating for effect here) that I have said "if only..." since becoming a Mommy.  Recently I've been feeling like this whole job is seriously kicking my ass.  I'm tired (thanks Pirate).....like tired to a point that I don't think I've ever been before and as a result my overall parenting skills have hit the skids big time.  The last few days have been epically bad and I have found myself breaking every cardinal rule that I had dealt myself before becoming a mom.  This is far from a cry for pity, rather just some humbling honestly for anyone out there who is in my shoes (or worse off - because sadly I know you're out there too).....and I thought I'd start by sharing my list of "If only I was as good a Mommy as I was before I had kids"

1. I will never let my child sleep on dirty sheets.  I read recently, and it made me laugh, "Don't worry, you're not the only Mother to throw a towel over the peed on sheets and go back to bed."  Hell, I'm so tired these days my kids don't even get a towel.  Sorry Pirate - Mommy will just shift you out of that puddle of spit up....really you've got your whole crib mattress to work.....

2. TV is not a babysitter.  That's right - TV is better than a babysitter - you don't have to pay your TV by the hour!!  And really, my sanity is already so broken at this point that watching 101 Dalmatians for the fourth time today isn't doing the kind of damage it once would have.....Oh wait, I should be thinking about my children's well being?  Hmmm......

3.  My kids will not eat unhealthy food.  Ok, my kids will not eat unhealthy food before a nutritious breakfast and lunch.  Right, well, they won't eat crap before breakfast......Alright - the mall opens at 10 and Mommy desperately need to go into a fitting room so eat this frozen yogurt pop in the car and we'll crack into the chocolate in the parking lot.....fine, if you're going to be like that just eat the damn chocolate......

4.  I will not touch any alcohol while breastfeeding and/or being the lone parent home with my children.  Right.  Enough said. 

5.  Everyday we will plan some enriching and educational activity to do as a family.  Sure.  While working on approximately three hours of broken sleep has significantly reduced my ability to, well, be coherent at times, I have now begun to consider viewing any of the Disney classics as educational.  And really, making letting your toddler engage in a fun game of  'let's vacuum the kitchen' is always enriching.....

6.  I will not lose my temper, or ignore my child who is in an obvious attempt to engage me.  Alright, some background on this.  I have spent a lot of my life working in the retail sector, a significant amount in a children's retailer.  I had, previous to having my own spawn, witnessed frazzled parents attempting to tune out what I at the time perceived to be delightful toddler antics, and was very judgemental of these obviously inferior parenting skills.  Trust me - until you've played 6821 rounds of "why?" that hour, or heard for the umpteen-millionth time about how Princess' balloon popped three weeks ago you can't appreciate the finely honed skill of selective listening.....seriously, it's a testament of a truly skilled parent to be able to tune out a three year old.....kudos to you if you've acquired it - well deserved my friends.

7.   I will not give into whining.....that will just enforce the behaviour.  Ok.  I was partly right.  It certainly does enforce the behaviour.  But, when it's a choice of giving into that hair curling pitch only a toddler can hit while in a committed state of getting-what-I-want-by-whining-in-a-frequency-reserved-only-for-bats.....well, that round goes to you my toddler friend.  Mommy wants us both to live to see tomorrow.  Game.  Set.  Match.

8.  We will establish and follow a set bedtime routine to allow for easier bedtimes and better sleep quality.  Actually, when I had only one child this was pretty standard fare.  Bath, story, bed.  However, add in another and look out - especially now that Princess can open doors.  Fabulous skill for a toddler to acquire....really.  So the choices are - childproof door covers on the inside of the bathroom doors to lock all three of us in while I bath the Pirate and Princess screams the entire time so loudly that the paint peels off the walls, or bathe Pirate while Princess roams the house unsupervised which has resulted in, but not limited to, the following:  crayon on suede couch, crayon on approx 100 sq/ft of flooring, indelible ink on window sill, consumption of three chocolate bunnies left over from Easter,  removal of diaper followed by peeing on suede chair, ripping the window screen out of living room window, emptying entire contents of dresser onto floor, tipping over now empty dresser......ok, you see the pattern.  So bedtime routine now consists of pyjamas.  Done.

9.  I will keep a clean and organized house so that my children have a friendly and full access place to play.  Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!  On a serious note, I have discovered that playdough, much like peas, kraft dinner, corn, chicken, rice (just to name a few) all dry to a lovely vacuumable consistency over night making clean up much more efficient.  Mom, if you're reading this I'm sorry.  Somewhere you clearly went very wrong.

10.  I will love my kids.  I wasn't aware that an emotion like the one I feel for Princess and the Pirate existed.  I don't think love is a big enough word.  I look at those two and they bring tears to my eyes (the good kind!  It happens - really).  I am overwhelmed with the way I feel about them.  I heard something once, to the tune of - having a child means forever wearing a part of your heart on the outside.  For those of you who are parents - you know what that means.  For those of you who aren't, I'm sorry that I can't explain it other than it is the single strongest, most amazing emotion and love I have ever experienced in my life.  And even though there are moments when jumping off the roof seems like the least painful option of the day - I adore my monkeys - more than I have to words to express.  And then I think maybe I am as good a mom as I was before I had kids.....maybe I'm even better......

Sleep is for the weak......

The last couple of weeks of my life have been....well, for lack of a better word, hellish.

The wee Pirate has decided that he no longer needs sleep to exist.  More specifically, he no longer needs sleep in anything greater than a two hour increment, around the clock.  Now, the Pirate has never been a great sleeper, unlike the Princess who reliably slept through the night at about the four month mark.  I remember hearing horror stories from other parents who were blessed stuck with these wee non-sleepers and somewhat snidely thought to myself that they must be suffering from some parental skills deficit which clearly I did not have.  I mean, they are babies.....haven't we all heard the phrase 'sleep like a baby'?  Babies were meant to sleep.....or so I once foolishly thought.  If I had the ability to get my hands on whatever genius coined that phrase, I would love to tie him to a chair (because no woman could come up with that gem) and let him experience a night at our house.....sleep like a baby, my ass.....sleep like a meth addict jonesing for a high is more like it.

Being the eternal optimist definition of ignorance, each night as we head to bed I think to myself with renewed vigour - this will be the night!  tonight we sleep!  My optimism, which at this point is already clinging to a thread, is quickly crushed night after night by about the forty-five minute mark which is reliably (the only reliable thing about this kid) when the Pirate wakes for his first round of let's drag Mommy thru hell.  Round one is followed shortly thereafter by rounds 2 through 84 as the night wears on in yet another sleepless blur.  The torture is only ended at roughly the 5am mark when the Pirate decides he's fully rested and ready to face another day.  And Mommy drags her increasingly weary ass out of bed yet again, looks at her spawn, and thinks for the 4382nd time that night how lucky I am that this kid is as cute as he is.....nature built in a genius species preservation method on that one.

What I love most about this entire endeavour through the depths of hell?  The advice.  Oh Lord, the advice (which I am secretly compiling to write my best selling novel cracking the code on why babies don't sleep because clearly every other parent and non parent on the planet has the solve for why my baby won't sleep).....but let's keep that between us, because as soon as I tire of the nights of endless awakefullness and decide to put an end to this nonsense using one of the oh-so-many tidbits of delightfully helpful and effective advice that has been bestowed upon me I intend to end the suffering of every other sleep deprived parent on the planet by sharing these gems of wisdom which clearly have been overlooked by all of us less that intelligent parents who, with a bit of effort, could easily be sleeping through the night.  Right.  Glad we sorted that out.  For the record - letting him cry, not letting him cry, letting him comfort nurse, not letting him comfort nurse, letting him sleep in my bed, making him sleep in his own bed, darkening the room, lightening the room, adding rice cereal to his last bottle, feeding him a jar of baby food before bed, swaddling him, not swaddling him, giving him a warm bath, rubbing lavender oil on his temples, massaging his tummy counter-clockwise, giving him a pacifier, not giving him a pacifier, moving his bedtime earlier, moving his bedtime later, using white noise, using music specially composed and "scientifically proven" to help babies sleep, silencing the room, and standing on my left foot while singing kumbaya and hopping in a clockwise circle have all not worked.  This has lead me to the shocking realization that......

Some babies just aren't good sleepers.  Period.  Add Pirate to the list....hell, make him the President.

And so, just like every other night, we head to bed in what will most likely be a futile attempt at anything other than very broken sleep, and very sore nipples as I feed my wee piranha for the bazillionth time.....but what I do get are those very few (and I mean very few) moments when he is asleep and I can take in the breathtakingly beautiful and peaceful look on my baby's face while I marvel in what a miracle he actually is.  And whether it's the sleep deprivation or just the sheer joy of his being in my life, it always brings a bit of a tear to my eye.  And I remind myself that as much as each exhaustion filled day is beginning to blur, so too will this time in our lives as the years pass.  These memories of sleeplessness will be just that....memories....along with the memories of how I once rocked my baby until he fell asleep....and when he's a teenager and I can't drag his butt out of bed, I'll probably long for these days when I held him tightly in my arms and sang him to sleep.....and so while I wish these endless nights were a memory.....

maybe I don't wish them away too soon.

Sit. Stay. Potty??

If someone had given me a list of things I wouldn't be prepared for during the course of childbirth/child rearing there are things that with common sense I would have graciously accepted and acknowledged as an occupational hazard.  Of course, as anyone who has experienced the pleasure (cough) of parenting, you know that the longer list are things that you would have never in a million sleep deprived years guessed to be truth....rather just a hazing scare from the BTDT's much akin to the quintessential "fish stories" you hear during the course of your life.  Such examples include (but are not limited to):

- yes, a newborn baby really can nurse for 24 solid hours a day without stopping.  The wonderful lactation consultants breastfeeding nazis call this cluster feeding, and assure you it is perfectly normal.  I called it medieval torture, and there is nothing normal about it at all.

- the above activity will, in fact, cause your nipples to crack and bleed.  My lactation BFF's are not concerned by this in the least.  Actually, they encourage insist force you to continue letting your wee piranha nurse through this horrifying situation by casting doubt on you suitability as a mother if you cannot carry out said task. 

- Your new baby will lull you into a false sense of security by spending most of the first week sleeping like.....well, like a baby.  Shortly after this blissful week where you actually feel like you might be getting a handle on this whole parenting thing, your baby will never sleep again until the age of two.

- You will go out in public in a state that you thought was only reserved for the severely mentally ill (which due to the lack of sleep surprise! - you've now joined).  Baby vomit will become a staple of your now less than fashionable wardrobe.  Suddenly, second day hair is squeaky clean and fourth day hair becomes the questionable limit.  Oh, and clean clothes - while your precious little one is in his third clean outfit of the day before noon, your shirt has debatedly passed the sniff test off the bedroom floor.....besides who's really looking at you?

- You will never experience privacy again.  Ever.  In any situation.  Most notably, you will never use the bathroom alone again for at least the next three years....longer is you foolishly decided in your sleep deprived stupor to enjoy this experience for a second (or third) time around.

In fact, as your wee one gets older, not only will you never experience privacy in the bathroom again, you will find as the dreaded "P" word becomes part of your vocabulary, that not only do you encourage company to your trips to the bathroom, but you also take on the most hardcore exhibitionist approach to what used to be a highly personal activity.  Besides, the ability to experience humiliation disappears in direct correlation to sleep deprivation which at this stage in life should be around....well let's say none.....

Potty Training.  Other than 'Natural Childbirth', I'm not sure there are two more frightening words in the English language.  Of course, I'm imagining there are exceptions to every rule....for anyone who hasn't struggled with, been shamed by, wanted to rip their hair out, or all around felt like a poor excuse for a human being as they once again scrubbed stuff that shouldn't be in their carpet out of it.....please share your secret....but for me and so many others....this is rough stuff.  I have felt, as the Princess approaches three years of age and steadfastly refuses to use the potty, that I would in fact be sending her to her first day of school in diapers (my shred of hope I was holding on to as attempt after attempt failed miserably)....however, in the last two days my optimism has been cautiously restored and as we march forward in our adventure I can once again see a tiny light of accomplishment at the end of the tunnel....well, either it's that or a crack in my psyche but it's still premature to make a determination on that one.

Ok, Mommy confession time.  As an accomplished dog trainer (with awards and stuff to prove it), I have taken many chapters of child rearing from my knowledge of all things dog related.  Potty training a puppy?  No problem!  And really, babies are babies right? (yes....I now see the error - okay, gaping flaw, in my logic)....but really, should it be this hard?  I thought I had done everything right.  Purchased and read (well, skimmed, but enough to get the gist) book after book about potty training.  I bought an adorable Dora potty seat for our toilet, and another small pink potty adorns my living room....we've tried cute underwear, pull ups with the somewhat frightening technology that makes urine feel cold upon contact, and finally just letting her go 'au natural'.....all of the above are noted tried and true methods of potty training which have all failed me.  We can spend countless hours admiring Dora and Boots....counting the flowers and butterflies on the seat.....using as much toilet paper as Mommy will allow to "wipe" (obviously my exhibitionist tactics didn't go totally unnoticed) and approximately four minutes after getting off the potty gleefully show Mommy the puddle of pee on the kitchen floor.  And please don't get me started on the reward based methods.  I am now convinced that it would be easier (and far less painful) to explain Quantum Physics to my child rather than why she can't have one of the Smarties in the bag until she's put a pee pee in the potty.....I'm just holding on to the fact that at least I have enough sense to abandon these flawed approaches before causing serious damage to either one of us.

So, like so many other things in the life of a parent, I've made the conscious commitment to stop worrying about my child's lack of progress and take on the 'she'll do it when she's ready' approach...aka: "The last trick I had up my sleeve just got shot down like Ol' Yeller.....".  To solidify my dedication I just purchased another big box of diapers for Princess, and a value pack of paper towel for me. And as I try to separate teaching this important right of passage from my worth as a human being, I rest somewhat assured that as of yet, science has not yet found a link between age of potty training and test scores on SAT's.

And I thank God for hardwood floors.

It's good to have a friend.....

The Princess and Arson Summer 2011

This is one of my favourite pictures of all time.  Here is the Princess, in toddler glory, sharing her very prized possession with her bestie Arson.

I don't have a funny story for you all today......blame the weather, or the lack of sleep (thank you Caveman), or the hormones.....whatever it is, I've just been thinking about friends and how lucky we are to have such incredible gifts in our lives.

I have been blessed with the most amazing friends....each of them holds a very special place in my heart, and each of them have made my journey that much more survivable.  We've laughed, cried, eaten, and drank our troubles away with copious amount of coffee (or booze) depending on who you are ;) .....we've shared our darkest secrets, our wildest dreams, our worst moments, our biggest fears, and our greatest triumphs.

We speak everyday, or we don't speak for months, but whatever the case we can pick up again exactly where we left off without missing a beat.....the sign of a true kinship.

This morning I've got a particularly special friend on my mind.  Someone who has been there for me recently and given me more than they might realize.  To that friend, as you read this you know who you are, thank you.....you are truly a gift.

Princess and Arson Winter 2011

The Battle Cry of the Two Year Old.

Mark Twain said, "The only two certainties in life are death and taxes." *

For those of us with our own little people, we know this statement to be untrue.  No offence Mark, but there are actually three certainties in life; death, taxes, and the undeniable independence our children seek.....thus giving birth to what I now affectionately refer to as the 'Battle-Cry-of-the-Two-Year-Old'....a.k.a - "I.  DO. IT."

Some say (incorrectly I might add) that the words "I Love You" are the most powerful words in the English language.  I would put my money any day of the week on the fact that those words would be effortlessly defeated by an even half-hearted attempt by any toddler worth his salt who is leveraging that all important independence in his life.  I tell you, there is nothing more powerful, focused, un-ignorable, or determined as a little person who has decided "I do it".

I don't have a lot of clear memories of the first few months of the Princess' life.....a wicked case of PPD and of course the all consuming lack of sleep have left me with what I would now consider a romantic haze of memories (similar to the very flattering 'soft lighting' effect professional photographers so geniusly use) which is probably entirely responsible for the Caveman's mere existence.  I do however have a few very vivid memories still intact.  One took place late one night while rocking the Princess in the rocker that was my permanent home for those first few months. I was looking longing down the hallway (dreaming of my bed which I was seriously neglecting my relationship with) and it dawned on me that one day, this tiny baby I was cradling in my arms, would toddle her way down that hallway into my arms - I know, chalk another one up to the romantic haze of a new mother - what I should have imagined was a whirling dervish tearing down the hall, leaving a trail of toilet water from the latest find of a new hand washing destination.....but again, then we most likely wouldn't have gained our Caveman.  Anyhow....as every new mother experiences, I was in too big a hurry for my little one to grow up.  Waiting desperately for the first smile, the first laugh, the first roll over, the first step, and finally the first words.  Obsessively consulting milestone charts to ensure our Princess was keeping up, comparing her constantly to every other baby we had access to, and like everything else to do with parenting - worry, worry, worry.  At the time, I'm not sure what I was more proud of, my university degree or the fact that my kid was able to sit up unassisted prior to the average developmental timeline.

Somewhere in the new mother haze, I remember my mother (a BTDT of the highest calibre) gently pointing out that I was in such a hurry for the Princess to walk and talk, but there would come a day when I would long for her to sit down and shut up.  Perish the thought!!  How could anyone be so insensitive to the incredible world of growth and discovery that I was about to experience.  Just imagine all the life altering experiences my child was about to embark on, with me, her ever patient mother gently guiding and opening doors of endless learning opportunities for her to gain that all valuable insight into her rapidly expanding world.  I really think I also had a vision of us in flowing white dressing running through fields of wildflowers hand in had as well, something akin to a Timotei commercial of the 80's but again, I blame the haze.....

Hmm....suddenly the ever patient mommy who was meant to be guiding her impressionable charge gently through a life lesson had to get to a doctor's appointment on time... the fifteen minutes necessary to thoroughly examine the minute speck of dirt we discovered on the way to the car wasn't in our time budget.....nor was the endless round of questioning 'why' the day the Princess discovered the Christmas lights had gone up outside or the time required to meticulously examine each bulb and identify it's color when mommy had to get to work on time.....but nothing, nothing, could prepare me for the impending time and emotional challenge that would come with the first utterance of the phrase "I do it."

Being a less than patient person by nature (I know, I just expected that you kind of got these skills after the birth of your children....clearly someone really needed to smack some sense into me at some point) I found, and still do find, the challenge of this developmental state.....um......okay.....well, let me just say there are days that I would rather squirt Purell directly into my eyes than face one more round.  Suddenly, it was as if every single moment of our day required an additional eight hours to accomplish.  Getting dressed in the morning?  Most days results in the Princess stomping her feet and screaming as she tries to get her head into every nook and cranny of her shirt other than the head hole....as gently as possible I quip in the equivalent of verbal tiptoeing, "should mommy help you?"

"NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.  I DO IT!!!!!!!"

Right.  Of course.  How could Mommy be so stupid?   Obviously you can do it.

There isn't a corner of our lives this new found independence hasn't touched.  Breakfast in the morning?  Of course Princess can take the foil off the yogurt herself (which conveniently is the only food she will entertain consuming in the morning, other than chocolate)  By the time the foil has been shredded off the yogurt, the Priness remains undaunted that most of it is now on the table, floor, and toddler resulting is more much appreciated cleaning for mommy and another round of I-can-dress-myself.  Brushing our teeth?  You guessed it - faucet, toothpaste, and actual brushing all fall into the scope of I can do it.  Bring on some more cleaning for mommy, questionable dental hygiene for Princess, and the realization that if mommy had half a brain left after two babies I would be strongly encouraging my toddler to become a Nudist.  Then the emotional bracing begins for the battle over the carseat....and yes, Mommy takes the tantrum on that one.....and secretly longs for the offering of a bottle of Purell by a complete stranger willing to step in and trade me......

Of course, at the very end of the day when Princess is snoring softly in her crib and the chaos of the day has subsided, and mommy has at least one glass of wine under her belt the guilt of mommyhood inevitably creeps it's way into my thoughts as I reflect on the million ways I could have been a more supportive, gentler Mommy who fostered better learning and provided more opportunities for the Princess to 'do it'......and as I pick the last remnants of the dried toothpaste out of my hair I commit to facing tomorrow with a new resolve of patience and understanding......

Well, at least until I hear "I do it".....then all bets are off......


*This quote is most often attributed to Mark Twain, but there is some uncertainty to it's actual origin.  Some Historians feel this quote may have originated in a 1789 letter from Benjamin Franklin to Jean-Baptiste Leroy.  And you are very welcome for your useless trivia of the day.

Life Lessons......

Since the Princess graced us with her presence, my view on the world has changed.  Dear God has it changed.

Things that I once wouldn't have given a second thought to, now have become paramount beacons of worry.....every single milestone in her life has become a reminder that my little girl, once a baby, is heading rapidly into a world where her mommy won't be there to protect her....a world where there are bullies, drugs, and crying in the bathroom after losing her virginity (I know, a passage of womanhood she'll have to experience).....but I'm trying to arm her with as much life savvy as I can to make this journey as survivable for both of us as possible. 

Now, being the type of parent that I am (confident in my totally unproven abilities and comfortable with winging my way through my lack of education on most parental subjects) I look for all sorts of opportunities to bestow my pearls of wisdom upon my toddler - who is clearly ready to learn these all important life lessons.

Today, we were driving down to Victoria to visit Grandma and Grandpa.  After finding an old CD that I burned ages ago (Dana's Mega Mix, labelled in Sharpie.....I know, try not to be jealous, being this cool just comes easy....) we were rocking in out to Feist, Mika, and PJ Harvey.  By about Mill Bay, Amy Winehouse came on.....

The Princess is head bopping in the back and shouting "No, No, No" because she's two and what word is more revered in the toddler-dom than that?  As I glance in the rearview mirror it hits me that this could be one of those golden learning opportunities....

Mommy: "Hey Princess.....It's kind of ironic that she's singing about not going to rehab because she really did need rehab.  She had lots of trouble in life, she did drugs, and she died.  It's really bad to do drugs, they make you die"  (See what I mean about confident in my unproven parenting skills?)

Princess: "Huh?"

Mommy: "Say 'Pardon Me' Sweetheart - saying 'Huh' is rude..... and Mommy said, drugs are bad.  They make you die"

Princess: "No, No, NO, NO, NO!!!!!"  (This is becoming gleeful)

Mommy (still undaunted): "Yes Princess.....promise Mommy you will never do drugs.  Dye your hair, get tattoos, wear weird clothes.....just promise Mommy you won't do drugs.  Drugs make you die."  (Ok, I admit at this stage I may be belabouring the point.....)

Princess: "Okay Mommy!"

Mommy FTW!!!!  On my accomplishment high, because clearly an 'Okay Mommy' from a two year old has secured me a daughter free of future drug use, I decided to tackle one more issue....

Mommy: "You know who else did drugs and died?"

Princess: "Daddy?"

Mommy: "No Baby, not Daddy.  Caillou.  Caillou did drugs and he died.  That means we can't watch him anymore."

For anyone who has actually had to suffer through any exposure to Caillou, you are all secretly admiring my chutzpah on this one.

Princess: "Caillou?"

Mommy: "Yes Baby, Caillou."

Princess: "Gilbert died too?"

Crap.  Didn't see this one coming.  Now totally winging it. 

Mommy: "Well Baby, Gilbert is a kitty....and kitties don't do drugs."  Secretly crossing my fingers this will subdue the unexpected line of questioning.

Princess: "Rosie?"

Alright Mommy.....time to regroup here.....we still have Mommy, Daddy, Grandma, Grandpa, Leo, Clementine, Jeremy and Jeffery.....well, you get the picture.  I need to kibosh this before I scar my kid for life with what has the potential to turn into a very macabre conversation.....and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit of Mommy guilt is creeping into my thought train here as I'm killing off an entire family.  Mind you, the thought did also cross my mind that Mommy, after having to look at Daddy in his hideous red turtleneck, green sweater, blue pant combo every frickin' day might not mind if an unforeseen heroin overdose allowed her to move onto a better choice....but I digress.....

Mommy: "You know what Baby, just because we can't watch Caillou anymore doesn't mean that other shows you like aren't still on.....we can watch those....."  Please, please, please please, please......

Princess: "MAX AND RUBY!!!!!!"

Awesome. Second only to Caillou in annoyance factor.  I'm done.  I have no more moves.  I've just killed a bald four year old....I can't sacrifice the bunnies too. 

Princess FTW.

Fast forward a few hours, and I'm telling the story while the Princess laughs adorably at the antics of quite possibly the most annoying orphaned bunnies on the face of the earth.  After I'm done here, I'll be starting on my speech for my Mother-of-the-year-Award.  Clearly, after the incredibly impressive parenting that took place this afternoon, it's not too far away in my future.....