Turn Down For......Children

One glorious day, I was handed a ticket to a local rock music festival. How much better can life get for a broke single-mom who loves music? And a beautiful day it was, with just a few glitches to keep life interesting, colourful and worth celebrating every child-free moment.

Things were looking to be perfect once I dropped eldest child off at a birthday party and sped to the festival to get in a precious hour of music before party-pick up time came. Yep, a music festival with kids is definitely destined to be perfect, right? Except that somehow, in the mad rush to get out the door and remember every. single. little. thing. I could possibly need to bring children to gymnastics, a birthday party and a festival, I forgot to grab the wallet that was staring at me from the living room floor all morning. I even grabbed a hairbrush, leave-in-conditioner and make-up to freshen up later (!) but not my wallet? I guess I thought there could be hot guys at this thing. Boy was I right about that. I guess I even imagined I would talk to one. Boy was I wrong on that point.

When I first got to the festival, I had an awesome parking spot. Perfect for a busy mom who has to leave mid-festival to retrieve a child. But I soon realized that the wallet was missing. Endless swearing and muttering under my breath ensued while I turned fifty shades of irritated and raced home and back. Upon arriving back at the festival, I found parking that was not quite as ideal and was a bit of a squeeze, but it still seemed to work. Until I came back an hour later to find a lovely parking ticket waiting to greet me.

So I picked up my eldest child, R, from one of the awesomest birthday parties for a 5-year-old you can imagine (I mean riding horses people, it does not get much better than that for a My-Little-Pony loving girl, right?). So of course R would be a happy camper to bring to a music festival, right? I mean, what's not to love about live music, happy care-free people, food trucks and children's activities? Right? But, wait, that's not taking into account my 5-year-old's attitude and dislike of everything mommy-centered.

Immediately upon arriving, R launched into full meltdown mode. I mean full on yelling and crying as if she is Daenerys and someone stole her dragons. I have to admit, I may have started up my phone's camera app, lined up a few shots and measured the irony and worth of my daughter's crying face juxtaposed beside Man Made Lakes belting out their hit "Dragonfly" on the day stage in terms of Facebook and Instagram likes, but the more mature mama side took over.

R eventually calmed down and later enjoyed some food truck fare on a blanket with some friends, giving me a chance to finally score some food for myself.

I was hurrying to a much-lauded fish taco truck when three very good looking guys held a box of pizza toward me with one slice left, and asked me if I would like it. Now, I don't know what you do when you are faced with three hot guys, but apparently I forget how to speak entirely. One is enough to make my brain completely shut down, and there were three of them. So what did I do? Did I make small talk about the festival? Did I ask their names or where they were from? No. I shoved pizza in my mouth and kept walking. Maybe muttering a thank you that probably came out sounding like Homer Simpson when he is craving a piece of food. Because I'm smooth like that. Apparently, I do my hair nice, even bring a brush and leave-in-conditioner with me so I can go out and NOT talk to hot guys. But maybe not being completely frazzled by life with children would help? We'll find out at the next music festival when I am dropping off my little sweeties at my parents house first.

Do You Have A Shopping Cart?

My youngest daughter, G, likes to sing made up songs. One of the cutest is the one titled "do you have a shopping cart?" I usually use one when I do grocery shopping with my girls. I find it makes the task easier, corrals them in one place, so to speak, if we could imagine two children as a herd of horses (not that hard really). However, on one recent occasion, the shopping cart was not enough to save me from the ORDEAL THAT IS SHOPPING WITH CHILDREN.

My first mistake might have been NOT promising candy as a bribe for good behaviour in the store. What was I thinking? Well, I guess I was thinking of my children's health, but I only needed about 10 items, so I thought nothing could really go wrong.

My second mistake was using the self-serve checkout. Now, I'm usually a pro at them and zip through in no time, but on this day I had decided to use my own bags, which I rarely do when I'm self-checkouting. All the other lines were long and I was desperate to finish the task since the two monkeys in my shopping cart were getting scrappy.

G was sitting in the child seat, R was hanging off the side. I was madly trying to self-check out items and get the machine to cooperate with my cloth bags. Scrappy monkey R, probably bored, was poking G for entertainment, who responded with swats and pushes. While my back was turned toward the machine, I could hear that things were starting to get pretty rough, so I turned around.

I was just in time to watch the whole shopping cart fall right over. That's right. With my child hanging on to the side. With my youngest strapped in the seat. With the shopping cart landing right on top of my horrified oldest child.

I do not recall what it was exactly that I yelled out, but it was something along the lines of "OH MY GOD!" Both children were crying very hard. EVERYONE was staring. By some miracle, neither of them was really hurt. A kind grocery store employee let me sit on a bench and sooth them while she rang the rest of the purchases through. Where would I be without the kindness of strangers? Probably a crazy woman pushing a shopping cart. Oh wait....

On Father’s Day & Headbutts

My 5-year-old daughter, R, receives weekly counseling appointments. Recently, I was waiting for her appointment to finish up when she finally appeared holding a piece of paper embellished with her writing and drawings. 

“An anger menu?” I read. 

Yes. The counsellor explained that it is a list of options for when R feels angry.

See, unlike many other 5 year olds you might know, R has some legitimate reasons to feel angry. Particularly around this time of year. And the real reason only hit me last week when I was being hit, quit literally, by R’s head. You know, one of those random headbutts.  This one took me completely unaware. 

I had paused for a few minutes in my usual housework scramble to watch a clip of an interview with American Authors. So enthralled was I in watching this cute band (have you seen the video for Best Day of My Life? Adorable!) that I was caught completely off guard by the sharp burst of pain in my upper right thigh. Yes, my charming daughter R had put her head down and run head long into my leg. And I can assure you, her head is very big and very hard. Ouch. 

“Ahhh!!!! Why did you do that?” 

This was all I could muster for several minutes before the parenting brain kicked in. I was completely stumped as to why this child of mine, who was completely happy and content just a moment before, had suddenly turned into a monst- I mean....slightly violent. 

It took me several hours to figure it out. Father’s Day. Of course she was angry, Father’s Day was due to arrive in a few days and there has likely been talk of it all week at school. So of course she is sad, confused and angry. Because she does not have a father or, at least, not one that is well enough to have any contact with her.

Naturally, I was relieved to see that anger was discussed this week in her counseling session. Hopefully the anger menu does not have a “headbutt your mother” option or at least that option won’t be explored again until my bruises have a chance to heal. Because I’m just a believer that things will get better....

First Post

This is not one of those parenting blogs where you will find long-form think pieces iterating a philosophical stance on raising children, or explaining the correct sharing rules to teach your child or even take up a position in attachment-parenting, share quinoa recipes or give you tips on raising a girl who knows better than to sext  strong female. 

Unlike the many, many others out there, this blog is here to make you feel GOOD about your parenting. After enjoying these stories of my daily parenting life, you will have such endorphin releasing thoughts like “wow, I’m glad that hasn’t happened to me, yet” or “wow, so glad I’ve never done that...well, not today at least.” 

Because parenting is damn hard and, as one person I know put it, “kids are basically feral.” Or at the very least are put on this earth to  test the limits of our sanity teach us things. Like patience. Joy. How to avoid projectile vomit. Yeah. It’s like that. You didn’t know parenting would sometimes feel like a war zone. 

This blog will commemorate those moments and at the very least recognize how children bring out the bizarreness of everyday life. It should make you feel damned good about how your day went, whether you are childless or childful. Unless you are in that lovely in-between period of expecting your first child. In that case, your screwed.