From zero to six and back again! A sneak peek at life as the Brady Bunch…

 Wow! What a weekend. I have three children and the person I am dating also has three children.  The kids’ ages are: 3, 3.5, 6.5, 7, 8.5 and 9.5. We celebrated one birthday Friday night with bowling and cupcakes and then had cake again the next night, arcade games, presents, a romp on top of Mount Royal at night to take in the spectacular view of Montreal (we were even privileged to see three very chubby raccoons living it up in a tree), and Sunday colouring, movies, lunch downtown, cookies from Starbucks (espressos for parents!) and overall excitement, sometimes crying for attention, other times just being plain tired. The theme: fun! It was an interesting sneak peek at what life with six little kids would be like fulltime! I think I would need an intravenous of caffeine…

What I also took away from this was how important it is for my partner and I to be open to all questions our children may have about our relationship. Do we love each other? Do we love each other more than them? And so on. My children still Velcro to me vying for my attention when we are together and when my partners’ kids snuggle with me they do get jealous. I don’t look at this as abnormal. I think like with any new situation, especially after a marriage breakdown with kids, it simply is not easy in the beginning and it will take time. So my partner and I tread lightly, answer all questions and make it very clear that yes we are in love, but they will always come first. And we explain that after a divorce it is okay to get on with our lives and to find love again. 

The other day my kids came home and told me their daddy told them he had a girlfriend. I was very happy for him and for them. I talked and will talk nicely about her to make this transition easier for my children because I know it is not easy for them to fully understand and accept.

Sunday night I was back to three children and then at work Monday morning with zero. I sat at my desk for a few moments and thought how peaceful it was but also smiled at how wonderful the weekend was and how I so look forward to a life with zero to six.

My picky eater

I was walking into work the other day and a coworker caught up with me. He and I have two children the same ages so we started to talk kids. This day we talked about food and the hilarity—and frustration—we experience with our munchkins. He told me how his 6-year-old rejected any croissant that came his way unless it was from Premier Moisson. “It is so bad that when we travel we actually check before hand that there is a good pastry shop in the vicinity,” he said. I laughed uncontrollably because I could totally relate.

Just a few days ago during breakfast Brooke screamed something from the living room. The scream was nothing particularly coherent so I had no clue what was wrong. I ended up going to her and when I arrived she was lying on the couch with chewed up bagel coming out the side of her mouth.

“Brooke!,” I snarled. “What are you doing? That is so rude and unlady like!”

“This bagel is disgusting!” she said as the remnants of white bread dropped from the corner of her mouth onto my couch and floor. Argh! Is all I could muster up. But she was right—I had bought the doughy, grocery store bagels that one time. If anyone has had a Montreal bagel there is no going back but does she have to be so picky??? Sigh.

Now, it is kinda funny, but kinda not. This kid has given me headache after headache over her picky eating ways. For the first month of school her lunch box would come home full of food. I would reluctantly open it every night and then throw a fit that she didn’t eat anything all day except carrots and fish crackers. I went as far as taking her grocery shopping so she could pick out what she wanted. That didn’t even work! Finally she came home one day and told me she wanted a sandwich with meat, no butter or sauce, and lettuce. I also decided to home bake her favourite cookies and carrot muffins. Other than this, my kids are pretty good with eating and eating well. I am lucky. But I know some parents whose kids live off of peanut butter sandwiches!

In these cases, according to the experts, it is best not to make a fuss but to continue to offer food in very small quantitites. Children also learn by example so parents should try varying food choices. And pediatricians often point to liquid intake and oversnacking as culprits with the picky eater syndrome. Some solutions that may help with mealtime battles include: 

• making mealtimes friendly
• serving child-size portions
• turning off the TV
• offering a variety of foods with different textures
• setting regular mealtimes
• try involving your children in the preparation of food

But overall mealtime should be made simple and fun.

For me opening the lunch box isn’t so traumatic anymore and I always make sure to buy Montreal bagels.…

Super mom cape comes undone…

Supermom is a very difficult role to sustain. I always find I reach a point where I am not feeling very super momish. But I have never reached this low before.

So I am on my way to my ex-sister-in-laws for a visit. I was running late because the summer lull is over and work is insane. I leave my family at work (I manage a team) for the one at home on a daily basis. It is the night my ex takes the kids for dinner so I had until 8 p.m. to socialize and catch up. Rose is very lovely and I truly appreciate my time with her.

Unfortunately, with back to school the traffic was insane on the highway—she lives on the west island of Montreal, which means a huge chunk of traffic from the city is heading out after work or school. I got on the highway and hit gridlock and just as I was resigning myself to some blackberry work, the phone rang. “Julia, it’s Esther from the after school program and I am still here with your kids.” Now, at this time it was heading on to 6:30. I said, “What?!!” She said she called my ex who said it was my night to pick them up. I instantly went ballistic. Not only were my girls still at school, Max was still at daycare and I was trapped in traffic hell. I felt like throwing up and crying and screaming all at once. I have had so many dreams where my kids are yelling for me and I can’t get to them and now dreamland was becoming reality land. I hung up and called the kids’ father and screamed at him in my moment of total and utter insanity. The car next to me unfortunately had his window down and witnessed my pathetic display of primal anger of a mom, but I could care less.

When I finally was able to get off of the highway, and able to reach the daycare, my eyes welled up with tears at my horrible momness. Max sat with a caregiver happily playing and seemingly not even aware of the fact that mommy was really, really late. Am I the worst mom ever??? When did my cape come undone? Through tears I made it to the minivan and took off to the girls’ school. Fortunately my ex was able to get to them before me. Thankfully the afterschool caregiver knows me well and was very sweet about watching the girls.

The fact was I had asked my ex to switch nights weeks before and I had forgotten. My brain was saturated with stuff to remember—field trip forms, lunch fees to pay, hydro, cable to pay, five work projects to complete, three loads of laundry to do, groceries to buy, floor to wash…I was shaken to the core. Traumatized to the max.

Just as I was pulling on to my street the daycare director called me: “Julia, I heard you were crying. It is okay. You are not the first, nor the last to do this. Max was fine and we were okay about staying. I don’t want you to be upset…..”

Other moms and dads lose their capes sometimes too? That did make me feel a bit better. But I felt horrible the rest of the night. I couldn’t even eat dinner. The kids were totally fine and their night was like any other. I have been a bit embarrassed about tying my cape back on. Or maybe I should just do it but this time tie a sturdy knot?…What I do know is from this point on I will make darn sure I pick up my kids the night I am suppose to!

Back to school…..already!?

Lazy, hazy, summer day at the beach with my kids

Well, school started up again this week. New supplies, knapsacks, lunch boxes and clothes were all bought, labeled and neatly packed for the journey back to the halls of education. It was very exciting for my kids and I, but if I may I would like to throw just one little thing out there—is it just me or does time really fly by as we get older? As I prepared their lunches Tuesday (their first day) I wondered when did this happen? Didn’t summer just start? Didn’t I just buy gifts for their teachers, say thanks and pour over their report cards, smiling at their marks, but smiling more at the thought of a homeworkless and non-lunch box preparing few months. I blinked and there I found myself standing at the corner of my street with my children waiting—their gear in hand and on back—for the big yellow bus to come down the street and take my kids to school, for another whole year. I felt stunned. I thought how time really does slip through your fingers like grains of sand….ahhhh….grains of sand. (Shake my head.) It was back to school day. The end of summer day. My girls happily climbed on their bus with huge smiles and my lip-gloss kiss stuck to their faces. Max and I stood there watching as the bus pulled away. I couldn’t see them through the windows so I just waved knowing that this is simply the way it was going to be—life with children is busy and before I know it I will be attending an University graduation ceremony, walking them down an aisle, babysitting their children and maybe even walking them to their yellow bus. I couldn’t help but shed a tear—okay, maybe two. I turned and picked up Max who instinctively kissed and hugged me and we got in the car and made our way to his daycare. On the way I thought that although time is flying I do spend lots of quality time with my beautiful children. When I look back at our summer it was filled with many good memories to hold on to forever. Carpe Diem, cherish the day, live every moment to it’s fullest. I guess that is the key….

I hope everyone had a wonderful summer.

Birthdays! Sigh…

It is a fact: every year my kids get a year older. Every year I have to hold a birthday party. Every year I need to think out of the box and create a wonderful, better than the rest, over the top birthday celebration that will make my kids jump for joy and happy to have such a creative mommy. This year because I am movng right around my girls’ birthdays (they were born four days apart, two years difference so I combine their parties—yes, I it is ok! Until they start to complain of course….) I suggested we just go to grandma’s for a small family gathering. Mya, who will be turning eight, flatly refused. “But what about all of my friends?” I immediately, sourly, thought, what about them? At that moment I despised the whole birthday thing. I know birthdays are a  year apart but they just seem to annoyingly creep up so fast. Sigh. Am I turning into a curmudgeon? I think between work, move, kids, single momdom I am just tired, and the thought of entertaining 10 kids makes me want to take a nap. But I looked at Mya in the eyes with the most sincere look I could muster up and smiled and said, “don’t worry sweetie, mommy will throw you a party with your friends.”

I had a friend say to me recently—after he didn’t put much thought into his daughter’s 13^th birthday (major milestone I think)—that our kids will never remember their birthdays anyway. “I don’t remember any of mine,” he said. “They are an insignificant blip in time and they mean nothing in the broad scheme of things.”

I thought on that statement for a long time. Could he be right? Do we overdo our kids’ birthday celebrations? Are we just being sucked into the vortex of our want, need, and incredible ability to devour commercialism and so we feel obligated to pamper and shower our kids with gifts and fun to celebrate the day they popped into this world? Wait a minute, maybe I should be celebrating the fact that I made it through nine months and pushed beyond unbearable pain three times on their birthdays. Perhaps my kids should be throwing a party for me?? Okay, not fair I know. But he does have a point. I started to think how I could make my kids’ birthdays a “significant blip.” Actually take the concept of birthday celebration to another level where my kids are appreciating their lives, rather than commercializing their lives. Maybe I can make their birthdays mean a lot in the “broad scheme of things?”

And I think many a mom and dad are starting to think along the same lines. Mya and Brooke have gone to many birthday parties where in lieu of gifts they are asked to bring money to donate to a charity of the child’s choice. The kids are learning something about life that they can take with them into adulthood and better yet be able to apply—hopefully.

So this year, my kids are going to have their party with their friends (bowling) but they are also going to learn the beauty of charity–helping others when you can. They will also experience the limitations of happiness associated with commercialism by experiencing the happiness in giving and helping others.

In this, I feel a renewed energy and desire to throw that birthday party. And I am looking forward to many years of birthdays to come.

Spring is here! And my kids have sprung! Play safe.

My beautiful Brooke

Finally, Spring has sprung—something I fully and completely embrace. The whole shoveling, scraping, layering, freezing, slipping, cold thing about winter is always nice to say good-bye to. And I don’t know about your kids, but mine are more than ready to literally break free. Frolicking, running, singing, dancing everywhere and anywhere, including the backyard, the sidewalk and the freakin’ street! Sigh.

So, I come home from work the other day and the kids want to “break free” before we even enter the house. I indulge them because I too am feeling a little frisky so I place my purse and the kids’ knapsacks by the front yard tree and proceed to play soccer in my heels, suit and nice, clean jacket. Because we live in downtown Montreal we have an alleyway beside our lower duplex, where we live. It is there we do most of our ball kicking. For passersby I am sure I looked hilarious trying to be Sporty Spice (yes, I am that old) with my Spring-inflicted children. I didn’t care though, I was having so much fun and so were they.

But as always, it’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye, or in my case the wet, muddy soccer ball passes my high-heeled attempt to block  it and hits my nice, clean jacket—which just happens to be light beige. “Okay kids, mommy is going to remove her jacket.”

With Max in tow we go to the front stoop to bring the bags and to place my jacket in a safer place. Just as I turned my back on the girls and headed to my destination, I instinctively turned around to see Mya kick that soccer ball so hard it passed Brooke and headed straight into the street, in the classic TV safety commercial that we have seen so many times way: kid runs for ball that trickles into the street from behind parked cars as an oncoming car speeds to meet ball and kid head on. I swear in slow motion, with a low guttural yell that I am positive pierced every household on my block, I turned and the words: BROOOOOOKE, STOOOOOPPPPP!!!!!! gushed from my mouth.

Dropping everything in my arms I sprinted toward her. I am sure the driver saw or heard me because she stopped and Brooke backed up. She motioned for Brooke to get her ball, she then shook her head my way in a tsk, tsk motion and slowly continued on her way.

I felt heavy with potential grief and held Brooke in my arms and then huddled my three kids around me as I preached the importance of NOT running into the street for a ball.

Spring is here my friends. Please play safe.

Nanny meets “The Gastro”

After many meetings with potential nannies I finally settled on one. She seemed perfect for my needs: First Aid and CPR certified, child psychology courses, babysitting experience, a healthy sense of eating, a very keen desire to be a nanny and she had a car and good driving record. Plus, she was sweet as syrup. I asked her to come to my home on a Saturday while my mom was around so I could have a second opinion. Mom agreed: perfect. Although that same day I couldn’t shake the feeling that the potential nanny looked totally overwhelmed by my very gregarious children who were jumping on her, vying for her attention and simply not listening to her.

“Ignore the voice Julia—she is perfect,” I said to myself.

So, the nanny started Monday. I took her to the schools and daycare and even took her grocery shopping to allow her to pick some things she likes to cook with. While shopping she very softly criticized my food choices–if it were up to her she would be shopping at a health food store. I was annoyed, but again ignored my instincts to just fire her before she really started.

The next day the nanny was to begin her journey on her own. She was to pick up kids from school and daycare, make them dinner and play with them. I would be home by 8 p.m.

By about 6 p.m. the next night, as I was typing away at my computer, I got a call: “Julia, ummm, I don’t know how to tell you this but when the kids were taking off their coats the glass plate on top of the winter clothes dresser somehow flew off and shattered on the ground. I really don’t know how this happened……”

I stopped listening after “somehow flew off.” That plate was from a small town in The Netherlands where my family name originated. My deceased father had brought it back after travelling there some years ago with my mother. The little voice was again asserting its opinion: “That happened for a reason Julia!!!”

I came home that night to a messy house, the glass plate still shattered on the ground and to a nanny that looked more like a person who just got off the fastest roller coaster ride of her life than a nanny.

Sigh. I’ll give her another chance…afterall, it’s not easy watching three kids. It could take awhile to adapt.

The next day Max threw up three times at daycare. “The Gastro” (See below, “Gastro 101″)  was going around. I picked him up and proceeded to call the nanny to book her for the next day (this was another reason I needed a nanny: for sick days). When I told her Max had the gastro she replied: “The gastro? What’s the gastro?” I told her, more irritated than ever. She is 41 for goodness sake. Where has she been? “How exactly will the day go?,” she continued. “What will I have to do? The gastro…oh my.”

Oh my is right. When I woke up the next morning to my phone beeping I knew instinctively it was the nanny. “Julia, I don’t know how to say this, but I just can’t do it. I am so overwhelmed–it is just too much. I just can’t handle it. And then when you mentioned the gastro….”

Now, normally I dread the gastro. I find it a useless waste of time and energy. But thanks to this gastro my little inner voice—the one I should have listened to after the third strike—was justified.

I stayed home that day with Max and began my nanny search once again. I think I may have found someone. Hope she is not afraid of “The Gastro…”

Gastro 101

“The Gastro” is short for gastroenteritis, which is an infection of the bowel and is very common in young children. This is usually the result of a virus, which are easily contracted from other people.

Symptoms can include diarrhea, vomiting, abdominal pain, crying, fever (above 38C), runny nose, sore throat, coughing and less commonly, bleeding or mucus present in stools (see your doctor if blood is present – this may be bacterial gastro or could be another illness). While vomiting may only last for around 24 hours, diarrhea may persist for up to 10 days.

What to do: If your child is under six months of age, call your doctor. For all ages, fluids are the most important thing to remember when your child has gastro, as loss of water due to vomiting and diarrhea can lead to dehydration, which is a serious condition for young children. Small amounts of fluids should be given frequently. If you are breastfeeding, continue doing so, however if your child is old enough to be eating solids, this can be resumed after 24 hours. Offer a drink after each bout of vomiting and if your child is not drinking, see your doctor. Do not give full strength fizzy drinks, juice or lemonade as this may increase both diarrhea and dehydration. Mix 1 part juice to 4 parts of water.

The gastro is very infectious so ensure good hygiene – wash hands after each diaper change etc. and remove your child from others for 24 hours after the last passing of diarrhea or vomiting.

If your child displays any of the following symptoms, contact your doctor immediately: · Sunken eyes · Dry skin and tongue · No / little passing of urine · Difficulty waking · Irritability · Pale skin · Difficulty breathing

Supermom can’t be super everything

Supermom turned mom

Last summer I separated from my husband and on August 1, 2009 I moved into my own place with the kids. I have full custody but he gets them every other weekend, so pretty much on this date I threw on a supermom cape and hoped for the best (the cape of course being figurative—more a mental support prop to make me stronger than I have ever been). And then with one arm out in a supermom stance, I began the journey of my life.

A typical day chez Julia: kids wake up, I make them breakfast, I make their lunches, I change Max’s poopy diaper, yuck—I give him a bath, I get dressed, I yell at the girls to get dressed, Brooke always can’t find what she wants, “Mom, do the laundry!,” Max wants to wear “jammies” to daycare, “Don’t forgot to brush your teeth! Max, did you poo again?,” I drive them to school and daycare, once back in my minivan, that needs new brakes, and I have to change the snow tires, I check messages on my blackberry—three are urgent so I deal with them as I drive, I get to work and I have 20 messages on my phone, the presentation I have to prepare is waiting patiently for me, my colleague needs my input, I finish my day at 5, running out the door to pick up Max by 5:15, I am late, call the daycare, did I eat lunch today?, pick up Max, stop at drycleaners, get the girls, they don’t want to leave, Mya and Brooke start fighting over who pushed who, I get home and throw knapsacks in the corner, take off Max’s outdoor clothes (good I don’t need to put pjs on him, he has them on already), I pour myself a glass of wine (yes, it’s necessary), open up my mail, I apparently paid the wrong hydro bill, I need to go get  a new license with picture (when the heck am I going to do that?) and I begin making dinner…….you get the idea.

So there is that. Then recently when I heard myself telling my children to leverage the fact that they have legs and arms to pick up their mess, and that if they could just execute my request to brush their teeth, and to strategize better in the morning, I knew I needed help!!!! My two worlds were colliding—work and home life were about to come to a head and if I didn’t do something soon, the outcome could be disastrous.

So I finally succumbed. Solution: hire a part-time nanny. A few times a week she is to pick up my kids from school, feed them, play with them, and do homework and light cleaning when necessary. As I wrote that ad a wave of serenity washed over me.

“Julia, you can’t be super everything,” my boss said to me recently. And she’s right. Sometimes I can just be a mom without the super. And it’s ok.

Max likes to wear nail polish. So what!

Max with a "manly" Spiderman t-shirt

Ok, I am going to confess. Max, who is 2 1/2, often does girly things, like wear his sisters’ hair bands, carry their purses around the house, try to put on mommy’s makeup, wear nail polish and put on my high heels. But not once have I ever thought I am influencing his sexual orientation by allowing these things to happen. Max also adores—and I cannot express this enough—trucks, tractors, cars, buses, his riding toys, building things, kicking things, and just being a total menace. All very much boy things, I think.

Recently, while telling a male friend about how Max came to me wearing his hair band all wrong, my friend said to me, “How could you let Max do girly things!? You need to call 1-800-Be-A-Man!” It wasn’t the first time I heard such a sentiment. I even heard this from a few women. I also heard that because sometimes I still sleep with Max and give him lots of hugs, kisses and overall loving attention I am going to turn him into a momma’s boy!

Sigh.

Because Max is growing up in a female dominated environment I think it is normal for him to want to do some female things, such as wear nail polish. And the fact that I shower him with love—did you see his picture? How could I not?

Instead of arguing with these people about what I think, I decided to get the facts from Dr. Shuvo Ghosh at The Montreal Children’s Hospital about what is right and what is wrong concerning this issue. As a developmental pediatrician who works a lot with children who have sexual identity problems (physically being born a male but mentally being a female) he has a good grasp on what is normal and what is not.

“Julia, there is no way that showering your child with love and attention will turn him into a momma’s boy. He either will be or won’t be. And the fact that he does ‘girly’ things is a very natural thing for little boys to explore,” says Dr. Ghosh. “I assume you will love your son regardless of his sexual orientation anyway? I actually have people come to me worried that their young child may be homosexual and they ask if I can change him/her before it becomes an issue. My advice, just keep being a loving parent, who offers structure and guidance and you will help raise the best person your child can be.”

Tonight Max carried his (well, Brooke’s) purse to the bath with his trucks in tow so he could wash them. “Mommy, my purse,” he said, as I watched him place it beside the tub and proceed to crawl in the tub to scrub his trucks.

The whole time I just thought about how much I love this kid and how nothing else matters…

Mya cuts her own hair, as told by Mya

Mya just after her "hair cut"

Once upon a time in our old house my babysitter Felicia came over to watch Brooke and I because I was sick and mommy had to go to work. Then Felicia told me to go to my room and be quiet because she had to put Brooke down for a nap. But instead of staying in my room I snuck downstairs and grabbed a pair of scissors. Then I went back to my room. And I had the scissors in my hand and then I started to chop off my

Mya with hairband to hide her bang removal

hair. Soon Felicia came to check on me and then she screamed “ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” because I cut my hair all the way to my scalp. Then Felicia brought me downstairs and she grabbed the scissors from my hand. She then called my mom and said, almost crying, “Julia, Mya cut her own hair.” And then Felicia said, “Mya your mom is coming home.” When mommy got home she was so scared to see what I did.  But when she did she decided to take me to the neighbour, who is a hair dresser. And then my mom was sooo happy and then she gave a great big hug to our neighbour.

Note to all parents: If you have a child this is one milestone that is very likely to happen at some point. Like the terrible twos, this is something you may just have to endure. My suggestion: endure it with a grain of salt, then smile and use that salt to make yourself a margarita!!