Gramma Elf

Today is the 4th anniversary of my Gramma’s death.

Today Kaya finished her first set of swim lessons and graduated to the next level. Then she made snow angels with her bestest friend. Then she baked with her mommy. Me. Her Mommy. Baked. Then she made a snowman with her daddy.

Today Brennyn ate rice cereal for the first time. When I first tried to feed Kaya, she abruptly spit it all right back out with a look that said “What the hell was that?” Brennyn, on the other hand, promptly swallowed a full spoon with a look that said precisely “What the hell were you waiting for? Feed me more. Now!”

All this amongst Christmas lights, carols, drink and  kids. If my Gramma were here she’d be in heaven. Okay, perhaps she is in the Heaven. More likely though, she is one of Santa’s little helpers. All sly and silly and giddy with Christmas spirit and joy. Same spirit she always had at this time of year, without having to worry about price tags and wrapping. Yup, Gramma elf is in heaven. Her heaven. Christmas Heaven.

Oh Christmas Tree

You can tell a lot about a person by looking at their Christmas tree.

The tree itself tells a story. Fake tree, no tree, Charlie Brown one or cultivated bushy pine all give hints of the person buying (or chopping) them.

Then there are the decorations:

• Lights- how many, what colour?
• Balls- coordinated, glass, bouncy or any?
• Decor- matchy, Christmasy, heirlooms, themed, cartoony, silly, funny, stuffy, classy?

And how you place them too tells a tale. Crammed or applied sparingly? Spread evenly or bottom-heavy? Orderly or not? Around the entire tree or concentrated where we can see?

Oh Christmas Trees, as varied as the world’s people…

Our tree tells a lot about our family. Both in its execution and in the stories that come with each decoration.

First off our tree has to be real. For the smell and the ritual and the beauty. Our lights our multi-coloured lights because I can’t remember ever having a tree that didn’t have them and because the colours just scream CHRISTMAS to me. White lights are pretty and classy but that is not us. Pretty crazy maybe but not pretty classy…

Our decorations are as diverse and varied as the places we’ve traveled. Our first Christmas together, Bal bought me a rotating Parachuting Santa for our mini tree. We didn’t know then that this symbolic leap of faith was the start of our leap of faith of a life together forever. Every year since, we have bought a decoration that tells a story of that year. Usually this has meant buying something from around the world that we could claim was a legit Christmas decoration. Like a tartan pin or a Korean tassle, a Peruvian doll or a Cirque du Soleil clown. Three of my favorites are the funky robot toys bought in San Francisco.

Then the kids came. The first, an engraved ‘Baby’s 1st Christmas’ Noah’s Ark ornament. Then a giraffe and a penguin. Now she’s 3 and making her own ornaments and adding baby toys onto the tree for Brennyn. Now she can help decorate which means 75% of the decorations are placed in one bottom corner of the tree. 65% of those are taken off repeatedly to be played with and moved and used to play ‘pretend’. There are no breakables here.

These decorations, these traditions are being passed on every year. The stories and laughs retold over and over. The bird, for my Gramma, who every year insisted those birds out the window are Santa’s lil’ helpers checking to see if you are naughty or nice.  Kaya’s penguin obsession of ‘08. The Storm of the Century in LA for Bal’s 30th birthday. These to be told every year, adding more and more, until my girls meet the guys who buy them their first decoration.

When old traditions combine with new. Then I will look at my girls trees, their very own trees, and I will smile, knowing that I am learning just a little bit more about their lives, their souls.

Christmas Rolls and Candycanes

Mix one part sugar n’ sweetness

With one part mistletoes

Add a dash of attitude

Voila! You have scrumptious Christmas rolls…

And in this family, we always serve rolls with candycanes:

DELICIOUS!

Pajama Party

Miss Kaya has decided not to nap today. She’s having a party next door in her room while I clean, nurse, eat, clean…

Finally, after 45 minutes, I concede and go in there to get her.

“Brennyn is here to nap with you!” I joke since Brenny is 5 months old and not quite ready for the big girl bed yet. Yet…

Kaya is delighted. I lay Brennyn down beside her and they both start giggling (yes, even Brenny has a giggle now).

I join in the giggle-fest until Kaya looks at me in all seriousness and says,

“Okay, you can leave now.”

Shunned, I start walking out the door.

“And close the door mommy!”

Clutzy Clutzerton

I was assaulted by a closet door today. Vicious son of a bitch. No, really. It hammered me. Hard.

Like if I were ever to partake in a brawl, I can only dream that I may evoke such force on my arch nemesis.

There is hope, I suppose, seeing as it was my own strength that propelled it. A simple drop of a vest in the closet (on the floor because why would I ever take the time to hang anything) while turning my head to answer Kaya and simultaneously backing out, closing the door at the same time. Not rocket science. Not even a Fisher Price 3+ rocket. Sigh.

Then BAM. Closet door meet bridge of my nose. Like a crash test dummy meets the windshield. Poor crash test dummy. Poor me.

“SON OF A …” Screamed.

“Why you say sonofa mommy?” Questioned.

“son of  a …” Whispered amongst tears.

Tears are flowing, nose is growing, please no black eye I am hoping.

No black eye. Only red, swollen nose and a doozy of a headache. Oh, and then there’s that deflated ego.

Poor shriveled, shrunken ego.

A Podium Finish

NaBloPoMo Accomplished! Phew…

Gold medal victory! Okay, this last week has been rough…

But maybe bronze? By one hundredth of a second?

Sorry, Olympic frenzy is gearing up in my neck of the woods. Vancouver-Whistler 2010 Olympics are here in 74 days! The Olympics have been a sore point for many people here. In fact, I don’t even know if many or any of my friends are going to them. Nobody, it seems, wants to admit their excitement or support of the games. Nobody is talking about them.

I am in support of the games. I am excited to go to some events. I was signed up to volunteer until the reality of having a 7-month old and toddler with no babysitter or daycare hit me and I had to give up on that idea.

I get the hesitation to fully support the games. I get that that money could have been well spent in health care or education or other social programs. But the reality, I think, is that money would not have been ‘available’ had it not been for the games. Protesters of the games are adamantly against the games but I wonder if their energy (if all of our energy) could be better spent fighting for their cause(s) instead of fighting against the Olympics.

Yes, the Olympics are too tightly branded and marketed into a mass commercialized event. But they also promote community, multiculturalism, teamwork, fairness, ambition, competitive spirit, dreams, and hard work. Sport is such an integral part of living a healthy life. They promote staying active, living and eating healthy, and participation. The Olympics are a global event. It is a chance to experience sport while learning and respecting other countries and cultures. I can think of no better lesson for my kids. To see the balance of respect with competition. Sportsmanship with personal bests. Dreams with dedication and hard work. Life values learned in a global village of unique and distinct cultures sharing a common goal- sport.

That is certainly something I am proud to be a part of and proud to teach my girls. So I will be there! Look for me. I’ll be the one cheering loud and proud with my red mittens and cow bell chasing down a racing toddler and flashing a boob now and then to quiet the crying baby. Hope to see you there!

Back In the Day

When I was being raised, there was no Google, cafes, or run bikes. There were no jogging strollers, Strong Start, nursing hotlines or online communities. There were no cells, digital cameras or train tables in stores.

There were no craft project websites and probably no crafting-for-preschoolers books either. They had to -gasp- come up with ideas all by themselves.

In my hometown, there were no fast food restaurants, no malls and definitely no play gyms.

Mom’s were in there early 20’s and hubbies were either absent, divorced from, or all day at work.

Oh my god, there was no Treehouse…

Which all begs the questions,

What the hell did you do all day?

And how the hell did you maintain your sanity?!

Who Me? In a Minivan? Nooo….

The grandparents are here and we got up, raced around to get everyone showered and pretty, rented a minivan and drove to the city singing Kumbaya…

Then we went to Disney on ice, bought loads of excessively expensive CRAP, gorged on a $12 bucket of popcorn (wtf?), and took my girl to the pre-show princesses.

2 hours later we pile back in the minivan, get excited to go do some shopping and eating only to be dismayed when the girls fall asleep.

So we plot a quick half hour run into the mall so I can at least get a stocking for Brennyn (so I am ready to start decorating on the 1st!) while Bal and Gampa stay in the van with sleepy girls. We run into Winners, get sucked into the time-suckage vortex that is Winners, find more then we intended to buy and get ready to jump back in the van.

Only Kaya has just woken up. Then Brennyn. What the hell, lets go to dinner! At a real sit down restaurant. That does not serve Pirate Packs or Happy Meals.

Dinner is delicious as are the girls. Even with glass cups and squishy booths. We pile back in the minivan and head home.

Through the course of the day, the minivan has endured 2 car seats, a full bag of blankies/food/change of clothes/etc., shopping, donuts, take-out and coffee cups, mittens/coats/toques strewn about and 4 adults, 1 toddler and 1 baby. It looks as though we’ve lived in it for 3.5 years.

I sit here now with a Cars pylon on my head pondering how cliched my day has been. And how bloody fantastic.

And as convenient as it was, I still hate the minivan. Even though it is super comfortable. So damn comfortable… And roomy… And fit 6 of us… And had cup holders and baskets in the most convenient of locals… And…

Nope, no minivan for us. EVER. Really…

Expressions

Here is a gallery of Brennyn expressing herself. From day one. Oh man, she cracks me up!

Very Vaccinated

Brennyn had her 4 month vaccination shots today. She handled the 2 month ones much like a sumo wrestler being pinched by a toddler- so a grimace with a giggle. Easy though she was more tired and ate more for a day or two.

Still, I felt bad this time around since she’s been so sick. My poor little baby girl, fever gone but still sounding like James Earl Jones attempting soprano. I ask if she should even be getting her shot but the nurses are merciless. “Oh ya, bring her in!” they cheer “you can dangle her by the toes while we poke and prod your phlegmy gaggy monster!’

Or something like that.

Bal decided to come along for the ride today. He’s never seen either of the kids shots and since work was slow for him (US Thanksgiving) he thought he’d come help. Which was great since he waited with Brennyn while I snuck over to Starbucks for a latte. Yah, much more relaxed with the 2nd child’s shots. Prick, sting, wail, booby snack, whimper, sleep. Sleep. More sleep. There are bonuses to vaccination days…

So Bal holds Brennyn while I sip my latte. She’s all like “Dude, where are we? What are we doing? Who’s the strange lady making goo-goo eyes at me? Can I eat your hat brim Daddy?”

Then poke.

Wail. For like 2.5 seconds. Looks at me. Looks at her daddy. Looks at strange lady coming in again.

“Dude, you better not be doing what I think you’re about to…”

Poke.

“Dammit lady…”

Wail.

Bubbles blown.

“Ooohhh. Floaty things…”

Almost a smile but keeps a wary eye on stranger lady. Daddy fly’s her in the air.

Smile.

Slobber.

Booby Snack.

“Dude, can we go for some ice cream now? Or fried chicken?”

Shots done.