Chocolate on the outside and inside cake with white icing that is Ariel, Snow White, Belle and all the princesses. And pink icing and orange. Please.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
4th Birthday Parties
Anna's birthday party is this Saturday. No theme has developed and I fear it might not be the most fun birthday party ever (largely due to her lame parents). It's the little things we're just not going to get quite right. For instance the cake. How does one fulfill the following request:
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Best Place on Earth my ass
British Columbia continues to do my head in. So frustrated with the health "care" system here that I have to blog... but so angry I dare not say what I think. Suffice to say, it appears the system is set up exclusively for the wealthy where pay-for-service is more often our experience than is "free" health service (even for a toddler), and despite us paying our monthly health care premiums and significantly more tax than either Alberta or England.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Lovin' the CRA
Over the past few years, I have come in more contact with the Canada Revenue Agency than any other form of bureaucracy at any other point in time in my life. Happily, it's not because I'm in any specific trouble. We seem to be locked in some sort of therapy with one another: we're in touch because we don't entirely understand each other. I ask questions of them. They respond not with answers, but with questions of their own. We somehow fail to find a common ground of understanding.
Almost all of this miscommunication has happened with the International Tax Office. The office seems to be made up of some of the most well-meaning, genuinely nice people of any government office I have ever come across. I perceive them to come undone because of the insane complexity of what they're trying to achieve: namely, taxing one who does not live in the country by rules that vary base on which country he (or she) is currently residing in. There is a published set of guidelines and, rather distressingly for honest but simple people like me, another set of unpublished policies that only come to light when you controvene one of them. So, I remain in correspondence with the International Tax Office over a couple of points that surface on an officer's "to-do" list every 8 months or so. However, to deal with the current iteration of our misunderstanding, we still need to get to the bottom of some questions I posed to them back in January, 2007. Those answers seem difficult to clarify. I remain unable to answer the questions they have for me while the International Tax Office remain unable to answer the questions I have for them. The policy for impasse seems to be to bury the file... until eight or so months later we re-exchange our confusion in the politest of terms.
Ange, however, took our CRA confusion to a whole new level. She once received the Universal Child Care Benefit. We left for England and she asked it stop. It didn't. She held the cheques. 6 months later they informed us we shouldn't be receiving it. She sent back the cheques. Seemingly end of story. But then Ange re-applied for the same Universal Child Care Benefit on returning to Canada. This caused some confusion at the CRA and we were forced to re-visit this cheques issued and returned thing again. Unlike their friends over the in the International Tax Office, the very nice people in the Tax Services Office recommended regular, multiple applications for the same benefit. After some back and forth, it all seemed to be mostly resolved... in as much as Ange and I were, at least, not in trouble and probably would just get the benefit...though they might hold a little back until they had thought it through. This was all confirmed in a phone conversation. And then they sent us a letter.
So, I will lay out the letter for you and we're going to play some "interactive blog" again. The rules are simple. You tell us what the hell they mean by the following letter. If you're right (and this may take some time to be resolved), we'll either have you by for dinner or send you sweets from Vancouver.
The letter:
Have fun with it. We do.
Almost all of this miscommunication has happened with the International Tax Office. The office seems to be made up of some of the most well-meaning, genuinely nice people of any government office I have ever come across. I perceive them to come undone because of the insane complexity of what they're trying to achieve: namely, taxing one who does not live in the country by rules that vary base on which country he (or she) is currently residing in. There is a published set of guidelines and, rather distressingly for honest but simple people like me, another set of unpublished policies that only come to light when you controvene one of them. So, I remain in correspondence with the International Tax Office over a couple of points that surface on an officer's "to-do" list every 8 months or so. However, to deal with the current iteration of our misunderstanding, we still need to get to the bottom of some questions I posed to them back in January, 2007. Those answers seem difficult to clarify. I remain unable to answer the questions they have for me while the International Tax Office remain unable to answer the questions I have for them. The policy for impasse seems to be to bury the file... until eight or so months later we re-exchange our confusion in the politest of terms.
Ange, however, took our CRA confusion to a whole new level. She once received the Universal Child Care Benefit. We left for England and she asked it stop. It didn't. She held the cheques. 6 months later they informed us we shouldn't be receiving it. She sent back the cheques. Seemingly end of story. But then Ange re-applied for the same Universal Child Care Benefit on returning to Canada. This caused some confusion at the CRA and we were forced to re-visit this cheques issued and returned thing again. Unlike their friends over the in the International Tax Office, the very nice people in the Tax Services Office recommended regular, multiple applications for the same benefit. After some back and forth, it all seemed to be mostly resolved... in as much as Ange and I were, at least, not in trouble and probably would just get the benefit...though they might hold a little back until they had thought it through. This was all confirmed in a phone conversation. And then they sent us a letter.
So, I will lay out the letter for you and we're going to play some "interactive blog" again. The rules are simple. You tell us what the hell they mean by the following letter. If you're right (and this may take some time to be resolved), we'll either have you by for dinner or send you sweets from Vancouver.
The letter:
So, the question is: are they saying, "No, no, you were right all along!" Or are they saying, "No, despite your appeal, you're wrong."This is further to your telephone conversation of May **, 2009 with ****** *********, an officer of the Appeals Division.
We have considered your objection for the year shown above and have concluded that the determination has been correctly issued.
Therefore, as agreed recently, we hereby confirm the determination under subextion 165(3) of the Income Tax Act.
Yours sincerely,
Have fun with it. We do.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
A different perspective on this morning
It's always a little tough to garner what a one year old is thinking, but if you take the combination of facial expression and noise and stir in a little "fill in the blank", I expect his feelings on a typical morning, after a week without mum goes something like this:
5:50am
Whoa, it's light in here. I should get up.
I'll call out for mum: "Eeeehhhhaaaa? Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck. Mmmmmmwhhhhhhaaaaa?"
Nothing? What a bother. I'll just get myself up. If I can just stand up. Stupid sleep sack. What the hell are they thinking putting me in this thing? I can't stand. It gets caught under me and twisted. They're creating claustrophobia where it doesn't yet exist. Damn it. Okay, I'll just drag myself up using solely my arms.... screw it. I'll sit. Where is mum? (*slightly louder:*) "Eeeehhhhaaaa? Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck. Mmmmmmwhhhhhhaaaaa?"
Ah, I hear mum coming up the steps.
Dad? This is ridiculous. Where's mum? You can get me out of this sack and give me a drink, but I'm on the look out for mum.
No. Don't try to cuddle me. Where is mum, anyway? What have you done with her?
6:02am
You're trying to change me already? You think I'm going to make this easy on you? No way. You just try and do up that nappy. I can see you grimacing and I can outlast you.
Okay, okay: blowing on my tummy is pretty funny. Okay, stop it. No, not really. Do it again. Okay, stop.
Heh! How did you get that nappy done up? You won't fool me so easily next time.
6:07am
Right, dad is going to get my clothes. I'll go when he not looking. If I do the half walk, half crawl crab maneuver I can get out of the room and half way down the hall before he has picked out a pair of trousers. Anna will know where mum is. "Annanananana?" Sleeping? "Mmmmmmwhhhhhhaaaaa? Ah. Ah. Ah. Ka."
Doesn't she know it's time to get up and dad has lost mum?
6:18am
Breakfast is on! I'll have a banana please: "Nananana" Good. And a piece of toast: "Aaaaannnnnnhhhhhh!". And whatever you're drinking in that cup. Alright, water in my own cup. Consider yourself warned, dad, put that cup within my reach and it's mine. In fact, put anything within reach and not only will I take it, I'll eat it.
For crying out loud: no, I won't have anymore applesauce. Alright, I'll have some applesauce, but only if you let me have the spoon. I'm going to get the spoon. Put that near my mouth and... I've got it. Hooray (*spoon flies about and food lands everywhere*)! What the? Where is the applesauce and why are my trousers wet? And while you're answering questions, what did you do with mum?
7:24am
I am glad to be down from the table.
Is that Anna? Let's walk, dad! You hold my hand. Baby steps... okay, big, leaning forward at crazy angle steps.
Forget Anna, there's the cat! Dad, have you seen that there is a cat living in our house? Oh my God. A cat. I need to touch the cat. I need to touch the cat. I need to touch the cat. Get over here cat. Two hands. YES! Sweet little kitty cat.
Why are you whimpering, cat?
No! No!!!! No, dad: don't take me away from the cat. I love her. You... can... grab me... but I'm not... letting... go... of the cat. SEE? I still have her! She's coming with me. And what the hell does "gently" mean anyway?
7:27am
TV? Movement. The pretty colours! They're so... beautiful. Oh, the music. It's... it's... it's in my soul. My feet are moving. My butt. I'm going to fall down! I may have lost my balance, but I'm right back at it. I'm up!
Where did you go, dad? Mum wouldn't leave me here alone. What's Anna on about breakfast. We've already eaten. I'll just go over and explain.
I'm almost at the kitchen... knock at the door. I'll need to do one of these turns that I've been practising. It's wide... but successful. All right door, here I come.
OMA!! Hooray! Dad, look, it's Oma! "Mamamamamama"
Speaking of which, Oma: are you aware that dad lost mum? Do you know where mum is?
7:45am
Dad seems to be preparing to leave. I can tell by the kisses. Stop kissing me dad. You're embarrassing me in front of the cat.
Alright, you can kiss my neck because it tickles.
Now get out of here. Oma is here--and while not mum--she's infinitely more competent than you.
I'll wave at the window.
Now go.
Bye. (*waving, using most of his body*)
5:50am
Whoa, it's light in here. I should get up.
I'll call out for mum: "Eeeehhhhaaaa? Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck. Mmmmmmwhhhhhhaaaaa?"
Nothing? What a bother. I'll just get myself up. If I can just stand up. Stupid sleep sack. What the hell are they thinking putting me in this thing? I can't stand. It gets caught under me and twisted. They're creating claustrophobia where it doesn't yet exist. Damn it. Okay, I'll just drag myself up using solely my arms.... screw it. I'll sit. Where is mum? (*slightly louder:*) "Eeeehhhhaaaa? Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck. Mmmmmmwhhhhhhaaaaa?"
Ah, I hear mum coming up the steps.
Dad? This is ridiculous. Where's mum? You can get me out of this sack and give me a drink, but I'm on the look out for mum.
No. Don't try to cuddle me. Where is mum, anyway? What have you done with her?
6:02am
You're trying to change me already? You think I'm going to make this easy on you? No way. You just try and do up that nappy. I can see you grimacing and I can outlast you.
Okay, okay: blowing on my tummy is pretty funny. Okay, stop it. No, not really. Do it again. Okay, stop.
Heh! How did you get that nappy done up? You won't fool me so easily next time.
6:07am
Right, dad is going to get my clothes. I'll go when he not looking. If I do the half walk, half crawl crab maneuver I can get out of the room and half way down the hall before he has picked out a pair of trousers. Anna will know where mum is. "Annanananana?" Sleeping? "Mmmmmmwhhhhhhaaaaa? Ah. Ah. Ah. Ka."
Doesn't she know it's time to get up and dad has lost mum?
6:18am
Breakfast is on! I'll have a banana please: "Nananana" Good. And a piece of toast: "Aaaaannnnnnhhhhhh!". And whatever you're drinking in that cup. Alright, water in my own cup. Consider yourself warned, dad, put that cup within my reach and it's mine. In fact, put anything within reach and not only will I take it, I'll eat it.
For crying out loud: no, I won't have anymore applesauce. Alright, I'll have some applesauce, but only if you let me have the spoon. I'm going to get the spoon. Put that near my mouth and... I've got it. Hooray (*spoon flies about and food lands everywhere*)! What the? Where is the applesauce and why are my trousers wet? And while you're answering questions, what did you do with mum?
7:24am
I am glad to be down from the table.
Is that Anna? Let's walk, dad! You hold my hand. Baby steps... okay, big, leaning forward at crazy angle steps.
Forget Anna, there's the cat! Dad, have you seen that there is a cat living in our house? Oh my God. A cat. I need to touch the cat. I need to touch the cat. I need to touch the cat. Get over here cat. Two hands. YES! Sweet little kitty cat.
Why are you whimpering, cat?
No! No!!!! No, dad: don't take me away from the cat. I love her. You... can... grab me... but I'm not... letting... go... of the cat. SEE? I still have her! She's coming with me. And what the hell does "gently" mean anyway?
7:27am
TV? Movement. The pretty colours! They're so... beautiful. Oh, the music. It's... it's... it's in my soul. My feet are moving. My butt. I'm going to fall down! I may have lost my balance, but I'm right back at it. I'm up!
Where did you go, dad? Mum wouldn't leave me here alone. What's Anna on about breakfast. We've already eaten. I'll just go over and explain.
I'm almost at the kitchen... knock at the door. I'll need to do one of these turns that I've been practising. It's wide... but successful. All right door, here I come.
OMA!! Hooray! Dad, look, it's Oma! "Mamamamamama"
Speaking of which, Oma: are you aware that dad lost mum? Do you know where mum is?
7:45am
Dad seems to be preparing to leave. I can tell by the kisses. Stop kissing me dad. You're embarrassing me in front of the cat.
Alright, you can kiss my neck because it tickles.
Now get out of here. Oma is here--and while not mum--she's infinitely more competent than you.
I'll wave at the window.
Now go.
Bye. (*waving, using most of his body*)
Monday, May 04, 2009
People who rock
Jaqcui. A dinner arrives at the house, with wine, the kids are entertained and then the dishes are done. Throw in an extra couple of hours of adult conversation? Jacqui rocks like Def Leppard.
Erika, Harley and Hudson. Two meals over at their house (only a couple doors down) with full kid entertainment included, daily phone calls to see if they can help out and generally making this week thoroughly enjoyable. Considering we've known them all of three weeks, I am reminded daily that they rock... like Van Halen.
Oma and Opa. Of course, Oma's ongoing care is sincerely appreciated... but the Saturday afternoon/evening gardening, dinner and bedtime help was sincerely appreciated. If only the Canucks had made the evening better for Opa. They rock, but in a more mellow Bon Jovi ballad kind of way.
Anna and Caleb. With questionable parenting, haphazard meals, keen but uncreative imaginary play from dad and a whole lot of missing mum, the two of them are amazing. Amongst a whole lot of cooperation, Caleb has even pretty much learned to walk. They rock AC/DC style.
The weekend has drawn to a close. We made it to all of our appointments. Anna's ballet on Saturday was pulled off. Anna is the most focused ballerina of any of the other 3 year olds. She takes dancing seriously. If they added some mermaid content to that dance class, it would be a drug for her. Church this morning was pulled off mostly successfully. One kind lady saw me struggling to herd the two of them and briefly collected Caleb. He was entirely unimpressed, but it served a useful conditioned learning exercise: "ignore dad's pleas to go in a certain direction and there's no telling who will pick you up." We even made it, on time, to meet Erika, Chris, Sophie, Brita, Andrew and Elliot for coffee and play-park time. Sunshine, slides, dirt and dogs. All the ingredients to entertain Anna and Caleb.
So, where do we stand?
Melt-downs: 0. I remain proudest of this. I nearly had a melt-down because I couldn't find Anna's ballet shoes. It's funny what nearly becomes your undoing. It took nearly an hour and most of the house was flipped upside down, but they were found. I was stressed and grumpy. I may have been less stressed and grumpy were it not for the 4:50am wake up Caleb pulled on me that morning. I have now resolved not to get out of bed until 6:00 unless it's truly frantic crying. This morning, I lay awake and listened to Caleb from 5:15 til 6:01. Mum's jet lag is going to be appreciated in the mornings!
TV time: Disney is once again my undoing. After a great week, Anna deserved a "movie night". She chose "Tinkerbell". I didn't actually watch it all the way through, but the plot was something painful. The fairies are responsible for spring. Tinkerbell nearly ruined it all, which would have meant no spring. Tinkerbell fixed the problem by believing in herself or some other such rubbish. I could go on about the flaws in the plot and the underlying inconsistencies in the movie, but I won't. I'm not the demographic they were writing the script for. Still, we watched it twice and there were fairies talking to mermaids in the bath tonight, meaning they've got into Anna's head. Other than that, it was spotty and inconsequential. Mainly filling a few moments while I ran off to chase down Caleb or throw him on the potty.
Getting out of the house: In spades. Video store, Safeway, ballet, park, Hudson's house, garden, church, coffee shop, different park, Hudson's house again.
Eating well. Possibly not. I'm trying to diversify from fish sticks, chicken nuggets and tuna: Anna's staple meat choices. While successful in diversifying, I've been less successful in actually getting Anna to consume much of the alternatives. Caleb eats most things, but he has also somehow managed to consume an unbelievable amount of applesauce in the past week. He likes it and I'm not creative.
Minimizing sugar: There's been a lot of hot chocolate this weekend.
Teaching and creative out-letting: Not really. I haven't stifled the imaginary play, but I certainly haven't introduced or taught anything.... except that Caleb's primary motivation to walk seems to be to kick the soccer ball (other than chasing the cat). This bodes well for my ability to meaningfully participate in his childhood play. I'm so much better at soccer than I am at mermaids and fairies.
Getting something non-kid done: I very nearly ran around the lawn with the lawn-mower. Apart from that, most dishes are cleaner than when we last used them. Mostly.
Need sleep. g'night!
Erika, Harley and Hudson. Two meals over at their house (only a couple doors down) with full kid entertainment included, daily phone calls to see if they can help out and generally making this week thoroughly enjoyable. Considering we've known them all of three weeks, I am reminded daily that they rock... like Van Halen.
Oma and Opa. Of course, Oma's ongoing care is sincerely appreciated... but the Saturday afternoon/evening gardening, dinner and bedtime help was sincerely appreciated. If only the Canucks had made the evening better for Opa. They rock, but in a more mellow Bon Jovi ballad kind of way.
Anna and Caleb. With questionable parenting, haphazard meals, keen but uncreative imaginary play from dad and a whole lot of missing mum, the two of them are amazing. Amongst a whole lot of cooperation, Caleb has even pretty much learned to walk. They rock AC/DC style.
The weekend has drawn to a close. We made it to all of our appointments. Anna's ballet on Saturday was pulled off. Anna is the most focused ballerina of any of the other 3 year olds. She takes dancing seriously. If they added some mermaid content to that dance class, it would be a drug for her. Church this morning was pulled off mostly successfully. One kind lady saw me struggling to herd the two of them and briefly collected Caleb. He was entirely unimpressed, but it served a useful conditioned learning exercise: "ignore dad's pleas to go in a certain direction and there's no telling who will pick you up." We even made it, on time, to meet Erika, Chris, Sophie, Brita, Andrew and Elliot for coffee and play-park time. Sunshine, slides, dirt and dogs. All the ingredients to entertain Anna and Caleb.
So, where do we stand?
Melt-downs: 0. I remain proudest of this. I nearly had a melt-down because I couldn't find Anna's ballet shoes. It's funny what nearly becomes your undoing. It took nearly an hour and most of the house was flipped upside down, but they were found. I was stressed and grumpy. I may have been less stressed and grumpy were it not for the 4:50am wake up Caleb pulled on me that morning. I have now resolved not to get out of bed until 6:00 unless it's truly frantic crying. This morning, I lay awake and listened to Caleb from 5:15 til 6:01. Mum's jet lag is going to be appreciated in the mornings!
TV time: Disney is once again my undoing. After a great week, Anna deserved a "movie night". She chose "Tinkerbell". I didn't actually watch it all the way through, but the plot was something painful. The fairies are responsible for spring. Tinkerbell nearly ruined it all, which would have meant no spring. Tinkerbell fixed the problem by believing in herself or some other such rubbish. I could go on about the flaws in the plot and the underlying inconsistencies in the movie, but I won't. I'm not the demographic they were writing the script for. Still, we watched it twice and there were fairies talking to mermaids in the bath tonight, meaning they've got into Anna's head. Other than that, it was spotty and inconsequential. Mainly filling a few moments while I ran off to chase down Caleb or throw him on the potty.
Getting out of the house: In spades. Video store, Safeway, ballet, park, Hudson's house, garden, church, coffee shop, different park, Hudson's house again.
Eating well. Possibly not. I'm trying to diversify from fish sticks, chicken nuggets and tuna: Anna's staple meat choices. While successful in diversifying, I've been less successful in actually getting Anna to consume much of the alternatives. Caleb eats most things, but he has also somehow managed to consume an unbelievable amount of applesauce in the past week. He likes it and I'm not creative.
Minimizing sugar: There's been a lot of hot chocolate this weekend.
Teaching and creative out-letting: Not really. I haven't stifled the imaginary play, but I certainly haven't introduced or taught anything.... except that Caleb's primary motivation to walk seems to be to kick the soccer ball (other than chasing the cat). This bodes well for my ability to meaningfully participate in his childhood play. I'm so much better at soccer than I am at mermaids and fairies.
Getting something non-kid done: I very nearly ran around the lawn with the lawn-mower. Apart from that, most dishes are cleaner than when we last used them. Mostly.
Need sleep. g'night!
Friday, May 01, 2009
4
I'm writing 4 on day 5. In other words, things are starting to unravel slightly. It's the little things that start to mount up. Last night, for instance, I was too tired to start folding laundry and just pushed the ever growing pile onto the floor. Incidentally, the cat was pleased with the new bed and slept on the clean laundry last night, meaning cat hair will be a feature of most clothes for the next couple of weeks.
Speaking of little things that do my head in. Anna takes a special vitamin supplement every day. In Alberta, the health-care system provided it for free, explaining that is was cheap and as her reason for needing it was so rare, they were pleased to just supply . In England, it was provided for free by a health care system that doesn't charge for prescription for anyone under 18. In BC, it's $50/month. My work plan to cover prescriptions only covers 80% after a $25 deductible, so if we get the biotin monthly, they actually only cover about $18 on $50. Ange's coverage is better, but they won't cover first because I'm older. By 3 days. Ridiculous. As we sort out process, we were eventually able to get a prescription for more of this vitamin. Unfortunately the doctor wrote down 4mg instead of 5mg. A single mg is pretty inconsequential and, even if it were, Anna has been taking 5mg for the past 2 years. Why the detail, you wonder? Because by writing down 4mg, the pharmacy can't issue the 5mg capsules which are pre-made. They have to make a special liquid concoction off-site. We managed to get the doctor re-issue the right prescription, but this special, "For Anna Only" bottle, had been made. So, for an addition $10 to us, I get the inconvenience of this stupid liquid stuff that has to be used before its shelf-live expires.
This all leads me to this morning. Out of our regular powder vitamin, I pull out the bottle this morning amidst the chaos of getting the kids ready. It's late, I'm not dressed and everything feels like it might go off the rails. I pull out the syringe they provided with the bottle to measure 8ml and get as far as the opening of the bottle, only to discover.... that the syringe is too large for the opening of the bottle. It's not a big deal except for the fact that I am so tired I can't even think how I'm going to measure 8ml out of the 2cm bottle-top with my 2.5cm-wide syringe. I may have cursed audibly. I fumbled around for a few minutes trying get my brain around this simplest of problems, eventually finding an egg cup. I poured in the liquid, measured the 8ml and poured the rest back into the bottle. I spilled at least a ml or two, meaning I've now created a new problem I get to deal with later in the month: I'm going to be short of this stuff down to spillage. I suspect they didn't factor that in when they were making this stuff up.
Anyway, here goes the measurable:
Melt-downs: 0. Jacqui came by with dinner last night. She saved me from melting down. The kids, however, are gold.
TV time: Poor. I relied on some show on CBC in the morning called Mechanical Animals for a few minutes to pull myself together. I am very suspicious of this shows innate worth. In the evening, we watched half of Curious George, which is so good it almost doesn't count as tv time. Except for that it does.
Getting out of the house: By 7:55am, baby.
Eating well: Done. Jacqui brought good food. Veggie chili. You have to know it's packed with veggies. Caleb ate more than Anna, he was so pleased with it.
Minimize sugar: Same as yesterday. None on my watch.
Teaching and creative out-letting: They were in the care of professionals, so I have to believe some of that happened. It may, however, have been undone by Mechanical Animals. Tough to say.
Getting something non-kid done: I had a non-kid conversation with Jacqui. She also did the dishes from dinner. I did nothing before 10pm and nothing well after 10pm.
Sleepishly, out.
Speaking of little things that do my head in. Anna takes a special vitamin supplement every day. In Alberta, the health-care system provided it for free, explaining that is was cheap and as her reason for needing it was so rare, they were pleased to just supply . In England, it was provided for free by a health care system that doesn't charge for prescription for anyone under 18. In BC, it's $50/month. My work plan to cover prescriptions only covers 80% after a $25 deductible, so if we get the biotin monthly, they actually only cover about $18 on $50. Ange's coverage is better, but they won't cover first because I'm older. By 3 days. Ridiculous. As we sort out process, we were eventually able to get a prescription for more of this vitamin. Unfortunately the doctor wrote down 4mg instead of 5mg. A single mg is pretty inconsequential and, even if it were, Anna has been taking 5mg for the past 2 years. Why the detail, you wonder? Because by writing down 4mg, the pharmacy can't issue the 5mg capsules which are pre-made. They have to make a special liquid concoction off-site. We managed to get the doctor re-issue the right prescription, but this special, "For Anna Only" bottle, had been made. So, for an addition $10 to us, I get the inconvenience of this stupid liquid stuff that has to be used before its shelf-live expires.
This all leads me to this morning. Out of our regular powder vitamin, I pull out the bottle this morning amidst the chaos of getting the kids ready. It's late, I'm not dressed and everything feels like it might go off the rails. I pull out the syringe they provided with the bottle to measure 8ml and get as far as the opening of the bottle, only to discover.... that the syringe is too large for the opening of the bottle. It's not a big deal except for the fact that I am so tired I can't even think how I'm going to measure 8ml out of the 2cm bottle-top with my 2.5cm-wide syringe. I may have cursed audibly. I fumbled around for a few minutes trying get my brain around this simplest of problems, eventually finding an egg cup. I poured in the liquid, measured the 8ml and poured the rest back into the bottle. I spilled at least a ml or two, meaning I've now created a new problem I get to deal with later in the month: I'm going to be short of this stuff down to spillage. I suspect they didn't factor that in when they were making this stuff up.
Anyway, here goes the measurable:
Melt-downs: 0. Jacqui came by with dinner last night. She saved me from melting down. The kids, however, are gold.
TV time: Poor. I relied on some show on CBC in the morning called Mechanical Animals for a few minutes to pull myself together. I am very suspicious of this shows innate worth. In the evening, we watched half of Curious George, which is so good it almost doesn't count as tv time. Except for that it does.
Getting out of the house: By 7:55am, baby.
Eating well: Done. Jacqui brought good food. Veggie chili. You have to know it's packed with veggies. Caleb ate more than Anna, he was so pleased with it.
Minimize sugar: Same as yesterday. None on my watch.
Teaching and creative out-letting: They were in the care of professionals, so I have to believe some of that happened. It may, however, have been undone by Mechanical Animals. Tough to say.
Getting something non-kid done: I had a non-kid conversation with Jacqui. She also did the dishes from dinner. I did nothing before 10pm and nothing well after 10pm.
Sleepishly, out.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Three
Sleep deprivation is setting in. The head hurts. Full sentences are hard to assemble. I have a nagging sense of nausia. If I were to compare it to climbing a mountain, I'd be worried that I'm yet at base camp and failing health will be my undoing. Thankfully, no mountains to climb and a good day all round. Not only was there some genuine positives at work, but I managed to succeed in several of the measures of success that fellow parents are welcome to adopt and make their own.
The truth is that this was aided largely by our super-cool neighbours, Erika and Harley and their son Hudson. They had all three of us over to their house for dinner tonight. I even snuck in a cheeky glass of wine. Anna played with Hudson. Hudson was chuffed that Anna was by his house. Caleb tormented their dog in the absence of our cat. I strung together the occassional sentence between the two kids' demands and got to have dinner without having to clean up. Erika and Harley are gold. It makes me very sad they're leaving the hood to a new house and community in a couple of weeks. Spotting a silver lining, they're going to take a bunch of flattened but as yet un-recycled boxes off our hands.
As I lose the plot, here quickly are the measureables:
Melt-downs: 0. Three days and counting. My confidence is increasing. Only reflecting back on previous blogs keeps my ego in check.
TV-time: Anna at nursery and then at Hudson's and then it was mermaid bath time. No TV. In your face Walt!
Getting "out of the house": Done! Not only did I successfully get Anna to nursery but we went out in an unprecedented 'after school' excursion.
Eating well. That chili I prepared last night? Consumed by Anna today for lunch. Caleb went nuts with Oma, eating an orchard's worth of fruit and sucking back savoury, proteiny goodness too. Then, Erika prepares a home-made chicken noodle soup filled with fresh veg. The kids dined on natures bounty. My diet may be of some concern. I had the soup but otherwise it's been bad for me. There's no time. And then it's late!
Minimize sugar: It is possible that Anna had no refined sugar today. Everything homemade from scratch. I say possible because I know the girl. There is the distinct possibility she negotiated Wyatt or Luke's granola bar off them at lunch. Left to her own devises, she will find treats.
Teaching and creative out letting: Anna was at pre-school for crying out loud. If they can't do it, what chance do I have? We read lots of books before bed too. Caleb, meanwhile, has focused on gross motor skills and is officially a toddler. He now walks whenever he's not in a hurry....which is fairly often. If he needs to have it, it's still crawling at bewildering speed. (A parent recently was so impressed with his speed, they suggested me enter him in a crawling race at a local mall... I'm totally not kidding).
Getting something non-kid done: I'm blogging, aren't I? Which means I can ignore the laundry on the bed...
I've got to crash. Tomorrow morning is the first without Oma at any stage. Two kids woken, fed, potty-ed (that can't be a verb), dressed and in the car and off to care... and get myself cleaned and dressed. I'm still suspicious it isn't possible. Tomorrow will tell.
The truth is that this was aided largely by our super-cool neighbours, Erika and Harley and their son Hudson. They had all three of us over to their house for dinner tonight. I even snuck in a cheeky glass of wine. Anna played with Hudson. Hudson was chuffed that Anna was by his house. Caleb tormented their dog in the absence of our cat. I strung together the occassional sentence between the two kids' demands and got to have dinner without having to clean up. Erika and Harley are gold. It makes me very sad they're leaving the hood to a new house and community in a couple of weeks. Spotting a silver lining, they're going to take a bunch of flattened but as yet un-recycled boxes off our hands.
As I lose the plot, here quickly are the measureables:
Melt-downs: 0. Three days and counting. My confidence is increasing. Only reflecting back on previous blogs keeps my ego in check.
TV-time: Anna at nursery and then at Hudson's and then it was mermaid bath time. No TV. In your face Walt!
Getting "out of the house": Done! Not only did I successfully get Anna to nursery but we went out in an unprecedented 'after school' excursion.
Eating well. That chili I prepared last night? Consumed by Anna today for lunch. Caleb went nuts with Oma, eating an orchard's worth of fruit and sucking back savoury, proteiny goodness too. Then, Erika prepares a home-made chicken noodle soup filled with fresh veg. The kids dined on natures bounty. My diet may be of some concern. I had the soup but otherwise it's been bad for me. There's no time. And then it's late!
Minimize sugar: It is possible that Anna had no refined sugar today. Everything homemade from scratch. I say possible because I know the girl. There is the distinct possibility she negotiated Wyatt or Luke's granola bar off them at lunch. Left to her own devises, she will find treats.
Teaching and creative out letting: Anna was at pre-school for crying out loud. If they can't do it, what chance do I have? We read lots of books before bed too. Caleb, meanwhile, has focused on gross motor skills and is officially a toddler. He now walks whenever he's not in a hurry....which is fairly often. If he needs to have it, it's still crawling at bewildering speed. (A parent recently was so impressed with his speed, they suggested me enter him in a crawling race at a local mall... I'm totally not kidding).
Getting something non-kid done: I'm blogging, aren't I? Which means I can ignore the laundry on the bed...
I've got to crash. Tomorrow morning is the first without Oma at any stage. Two kids woken, fed, potty-ed (that can't be a verb), dressed and in the car and off to care... and get myself cleaned and dressed. I'm still suspicious it isn't possible. Tomorrow will tell.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Day 2
I drifted in and out of sleep. Then suddenly, I was awake. Cripes. Caleb was crying. Had I somehow turned off my alarm and gone back to sleep? No. Caleb had chosen today to get up extra early. You know, get a head start on the day. I sat up. It was nearly painful. 5:45am? What? You can nearly set a clock to his 6:30 wake up. He'd even been to bed late the night before because of a late trip home from Oma and Opa. The crying wasn't "distressed", merely "is anyone there?" kind of noises. All my will got me to the bathroom. Once he's up, there's no going to the loo. A little foresight meant I had showered the night before. I shaved absurdly quickly-- the combination of a dull blade and my speed meaning I basically just Edward Scissorhands myself--while the kettle boiled for his bottle. Bleeding, but with a warm bottle in hand, I ran upstairs.
Caleb and I cuddled while he sucked back his milk. I dozed. And then with a start, I came to. Anna was singing to Chai? Seriously. Anna normally has to be dragged out of bed prior to 8am. It still wasn't 6. All 3 of us trundled downstairs for breakfast. Oma was taking the kids today, so there was no urgency to the morning whatsoever. Anna requested a bang egg (hard boiled egg) which takes time. That was okay. We had plenty of it. At 7:30am, when Oma arrived, the kids were dressed,we had sat for ages for breakfast, read books, gone potty, got re-dressed after playing with the banana became more fun than consuming it, and even turned on the TV (me noting that this was a sure sign I would fail at this little measurable today). I was still in my pj's and getting anxious about being ready for work. Oma arrived, I pulled myself together in 5 minutes flat and was out the door.
The work day flew by and suddenly I was back in the thick of things at home again. Let's look at measurable outcomes:
Melt-downs: Still 0. Unless you factor in the Flames. Anna teetered on the edge of one, but we rescued it with hot chocolate and cuddles.
TV time: pretty rough today. In addition to the morning TV, I know she watched WAL-E and I came home to Dora the Explorer. Oma explained that Anna had been pretty sensitive. Placating was necessary. I totally get it. Hell, I started it today.
Getting "out of the house": There was a 2.5 hour park visit. Awesome. It was lovely today. I could have used a 2.5 hour park visit.
Eating well: I checked off all the Canada Food Guide elements. Nothing you'd serve in a high end restaurant... or possibly in a diner. Still, basic nutrition was met.
Minimize sugar: Oma, being a grandparent, is usually more liberal than I am. I tend not to ask and focus on having a good teeth brushing session at day's end. The aforementioned hot chocolate was the only treat of note. Sadly, Anna left the mug on the coffee table (and I didn't notice), so even though he was only out of site for 30 seconds, I found Caleb smiling from ear to ear with chocolate all over his face, chest, trousers and standing in a sizable hot chocolate puddle on the floor. I think he likes hot chocolate. Luckily for me, he doesn't know how to ask for it specifically.
Teaching and creative out letting: None by me today. I did play more mermaids during bath time. We had a new facecloth. Facecloths are mermaids. It was blue. We called it King Triton, which allowed me to "make storms" in the bath. We both got very wet. I'm not sure, however, that reinforcing all things mermaid is teaching Anna anything. The creative outlet may also have been mine.
Getting something 'non-kid' done: Achieved. But at what cost? It's 11pm, Caleb is in and out of sleep because he appears to be teething. I'm honestly no expert, but his cheeks are neon red and he's not sleeping soundly. In between cuddles, I've got several things cleaned, cooked a chili for a future night's dinner, got Anna's lunch ready, managed to iron my shirts (!), took out the rubbish, lost the cat, found the cat, and fed the cat. Had I not found the cat, I could have struck off feeding her which might be a solution for future, busier nights.
So Day 2 may have lacked the enrichment of Day 1, but it's still all systems go and the wheels are still on the tracks. Caleb stirs. Gotta go.
Caleb and I cuddled while he sucked back his milk. I dozed. And then with a start, I came to. Anna was singing to Chai? Seriously. Anna normally has to be dragged out of bed prior to 8am. It still wasn't 6. All 3 of us trundled downstairs for breakfast. Oma was taking the kids today, so there was no urgency to the morning whatsoever. Anna requested a bang egg (hard boiled egg) which takes time. That was okay. We had plenty of it. At 7:30am, when Oma arrived, the kids were dressed,we had sat for ages for breakfast, read books, gone potty, got re-dressed after playing with the banana became more fun than consuming it, and even turned on the TV (me noting that this was a sure sign I would fail at this little measurable today). I was still in my pj's and getting anxious about being ready for work. Oma arrived, I pulled myself together in 5 minutes flat and was out the door.
The work day flew by and suddenly I was back in the thick of things at home again. Let's look at measurable outcomes:
Melt-downs: Still 0. Unless you factor in the Flames. Anna teetered on the edge of one, but we rescued it with hot chocolate and cuddles.
TV time: pretty rough today. In addition to the morning TV, I know she watched WAL-E and I came home to Dora the Explorer. Oma explained that Anna had been pretty sensitive. Placating was necessary. I totally get it. Hell, I started it today.
Getting "out of the house": There was a 2.5 hour park visit. Awesome. It was lovely today. I could have used a 2.5 hour park visit.
Eating well: I checked off all the Canada Food Guide elements. Nothing you'd serve in a high end restaurant... or possibly in a diner. Still, basic nutrition was met.
Minimize sugar: Oma, being a grandparent, is usually more liberal than I am. I tend not to ask and focus on having a good teeth brushing session at day's end. The aforementioned hot chocolate was the only treat of note. Sadly, Anna left the mug on the coffee table (and I didn't notice), so even though he was only out of site for 30 seconds, I found Caleb smiling from ear to ear with chocolate all over his face, chest, trousers and standing in a sizable hot chocolate puddle on the floor. I think he likes hot chocolate. Luckily for me, he doesn't know how to ask for it specifically.
Teaching and creative out letting: None by me today. I did play more mermaids during bath time. We had a new facecloth. Facecloths are mermaids. It was blue. We called it King Triton, which allowed me to "make storms" in the bath. We both got very wet. I'm not sure, however, that reinforcing all things mermaid is teaching Anna anything. The creative outlet may also have been mine.
Getting something 'non-kid' done: Achieved. But at what cost? It's 11pm, Caleb is in and out of sleep because he appears to be teething. I'm honestly no expert, but his cheeks are neon red and he's not sleeping soundly. In between cuddles, I've got several things cleaned, cooked a chili for a future night's dinner, got Anna's lunch ready, managed to iron my shirts (!), took out the rubbish, lost the cat, found the cat, and fed the cat. Had I not found the cat, I could have struck off feeding her which might be a solution for future, busier nights.
So Day 2 may have lacked the enrichment of Day 1, but it's still all systems go and the wheels are still on the tracks. Caleb stirs. Gotta go.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Day 1 of 14
Ange left to China last night for a fortnight. Being a work-trip, she is not taking either Anna or Caleb. This leaves me to my own devices with the kids for 14 days. It is slightly unnerving that I am also bumping up to 4 days/week at work this week too. But as they say in Vancouver, "why rain when it can pour?" They don't actually. I do.
Day 1 was entirely uneventful. We played at the Rec Centre. We played at the park. We played in the garden. We played at Oma and Opa's house. They went to bed. Apart from possibly being mermaid-saturated, there were no real hiccups, the kids were fun and I even had some adult conversation. As a parent who is vaguely aware of other parents, I tend to measure myself against those parents. Some of the "day success" measurable that really seem to surface for me are as follows:
Day 1 was entirely uneventful. We played at the Rec Centre. We played at the park. We played in the garden. We played at Oma and Opa's house. They went to bed. Apart from possibly being mermaid-saturated, there were no real hiccups, the kids were fun and I even had some adult conversation. As a parent who is vaguely aware of other parents, I tend to measure myself against those parents. Some of the "day success" measurable that really seem to surface for me are as follows:
- Melt-downs. How many in a day. And not just incessant whimpering over a chocolate Easter Egg kind or mild-but-insincere crying over leaving the park at a time perceived to be "too early". I'm talking screaming that makes you wonder if they might be doing permanent damage to their vocal chords, lying on the ground kicking, and flailing about like a fish out of water.
Today: 0. Success. - TV time. How much time is spent in front of the TV in a day. This is tough, because TV is the ultimate cheat with kids. Sadly, it doesn't do much for them and even a little bit too much usually leads to the melt-down described above. I strive for none but seldom achieve it. Damn the Disney Princesses series for that. I actually even give myself some internal rewards for giving in on TV but denying Disney.
Today: 1.5 hours of Disney's Little Mermaid III, Ariel's Beginnings. A single movie with nothing else is a moderate success. - Getting "out of the house" This probably comes from my parents and I am pretty forgiving if the weather is pants. It's critical to a successful day, even if you only make it as far as the garden.
Today: The park. The Rec Centre with Erika and Hudson (our neighbours who rock). White Rock to see Oma and Opa and Tom, which included lots of time outside in the Wendy House. Top success. - Eating well. In my mind this has a direct correlation to the quantity and diversity of vegetables consumed. Fruit is a close second. Chips don't count as potatoes and the greener the better when it comes to veggies.
Today: Carrots, asparagus, potatoes (mashed), apples, bananas and strawberries. It would have been nearly top success if Anna had consumed more of what she was given. Still, not bad. - Minimize sugar. This, of course, ties into eating well. However, with Anna, it is a category in its own right. The girl negotiates full-time from nearly the first word of the day for treats. Even going to bed tonight, she was negotiating for chocolate tomorrow. I'm suspicious it is her motivation for life at the moment and a little tiring. I feel particularly weak as a parent in this category. I have friends whose children have never had refined sugar cross their lips and some of the kids are nearly in kindergarten.
Today: Biscuits (2, maybe 3), cupcake, chocolate granola bar (2). It seems like a lot, but that's a pretty mellow day for her. Moderate success. - Teaching and creative out letting. This is where some parents take parenting to whole new level. You know: they have bowls of different textures (rice and flour and sand and cat food or whatever) and the kids just spend time "exploring"... or the kids get time to assemble a dinosaur that's been pre-cut by mum or dad--the glue sticks out, armed with glitter pens and bobbly eyes (where the hell do you get those things?) and pieces of fabric cut out from old clothes salvaged from a trip to the Sally Anne. The other parent comes home and the 2 year old has made their own "That's Not My Dinosaur" book. It baffles me. I'm best trying to teach them to hit a hockey ball in the garden. Not exactly a life skill. So, I struggle when I'm teamed up with Angela. Without her, I am hopeless.
Today: Art was achieved. Anna made a horse thanks entirely to the good (and prepared) people at the Rec Centre. Total success. In fact, that combined with Anna's "why" phase gave me ample opportunity for teaching today. - Getting something 'non-kid' done. This can be pretty random. It might be throwing in a load of laundry. It might be washing the dishes. It feels like a bonus, but actually it is a necessity. That's the kicker.
Today: hoovering the kids bedrooms. I did it with them because you sure as hell can't do it when they're sleeping. Caleb enjoyed the hoover so much it was ridiculous. He rode the hoover while I zipped around his room and then, after we had finished, spent 20 minutes trying to figure out how to turn it back on or simply riding it despite it being stationary. Success.
So, there you go. Day 1 chalks up. Two kids alive, healthy and in bed in freshly hoovered rooms. Now to bed for me so I don't tantrum on Day 2.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Fit to be dad?
While I thoroughly enjoy this whole parenting gig, there are usually several moments in most days where I seriously question my ability to be a parent. To be fair, they usually revolve around waste. Mostly human, but occassionally just around the volume that can be created by an infant/toddler. I can only be thankful that there was no test or licensing scheme to be a parent.
Today was a typical day in the life. I had but one goal for the day: get to the garden centre to buy some plants for Anna to pot and watch grow. I was going to do this while Caleb spent an hour checking out his new nursery. Simple enough, the casual reader thinks. Let's just say that I am likely to fail at both today and through no lack of effort on my part.
The first cracks in my plan became immediately evident. I was meant to phone the day-home lady where Caleb was going. However, I didn't have the number. Ange did, but was at work. I phoned her mobile. Nothing. Her office. Nothing. I emailed. Nothing. I tried to find her filing on the day home. A mess created--but I was no closer to this darned phone number. Anna, meanwhile, has decided that porridge is no longer what she wants for breakfast. Caleb has shredded his toast but has consumed very little. More toast goes in for Anna and Caleb gets some applesauce and more files where the number might potentially be are pulled out. Oma phones and is surprised about this whole "day home" thing creeping up on us and starting this week. As I start the explanation, the toast pops, marmite (yuck) is applied and sticky toast is given to Anna. Caleb has finished the applesauce and wants something else--what that is remains unclear, but he is increasingly agitated that I'm not getting it for him. Phone applied to one ear, Anna needs something to keep her hair back. A top-to-bottom house search ensues for a hair band while Caleb is temporarily placated with a tupperware container. No hair band turns up, but (on the phone) Oma has arrived at a level of peace that we're doing the right thing. Caleb, however, is not at any level of peace. I determine that this is likely due to the relative humidity in his nappy. I pick him up to take him to the potty and no sooner do I have the offending nappy off and him on the potty (don't wonder if it's worth trying this nappy-free thing, there's a light at the end of this tunnel that shines very, very brightly) than Anna needs her hands and face washed. She comes up to the bathroom. Caleb is balanced on one knee, Anna's hands are washed and Caleb is soon into a new nappy. Dad's trousers are suspiciously damp, but certainly not wet and the situation is simply ignored. Caleb fights getting his clothes on while Anna starts lobbying for the Ariel movie. I curse Disney (possibly audibly) and start the explanation of one shouldn't get up and start watching TV at once. Caleb is after the cat. Cat is rescued. Further negotiation for the TV heats up with Anna. Caleb is eating small bits from Anna's dollhouse. Small bit are rescued from his mouth. Further negotiation for the TV continues. Caleb is at the top of the stairs. Caleb is rescued from himself but is already poised to go after the cat again who has stupidly walked back into the picture. Anna wins the TV argument though time limitations are (supposedly) established. Caleb is taken for his morning nap because I still haven't worked out a way to contact the day-home lady.
It's 9am.
The house has now been turned upside down because of breakfast, a lost phone number and the shocking disappearance of all hair-manipulation accessories.
At 9:40, Ange phones with the number for the day-home lady. However, the day-home lady doesn't answer and I'm at a loss. I figure that I will just head over and ring the bell. They are likely to be out, but I can chill with the kids at the park or a coffee shop. I ring the bell at 10. They're not there. We go for coffee. I keep ringing back. There's nothing and so we head to the park. We do a lot of playing and by noon, we're all cold, tired and hungry. I pull the plug on the day-home trial.
We're back at home and I navigate the breakfast mess to make lunch. Somehow, Anna has successfully convinced me that boiled potatoes are on the menu. I scramble to get them boiled while feeding Caleb. Caleb isn't entirely pleased with my selection for him and the pile of food under his chair is now reaching alarming levels. Somehow, Anna's lunch comes together. We spend nearly 5 minutes very deliberately cutting the chives for her potatoes. Caleb is back on the tupperware entertainment plan. Anna is two bites into her lunch and I'm finally getting some real food shoveled into Caleb when Anna suddenly announces the very urgent need for the potty. I implore her to go it alone if I help her with her tights. She gets down from the table and runs away. Oh God! Caleb has the yogurt pot. How the hell did he reach that? I quickly calculate the bigger mess: pee or yogurt. Trusting in Anna's bladder, I snatch the yogurt with minimal collateral mess. Anna is summoned back. Tights are removed and she goes up to the potty while, as if on queue, Caleb makes the pooh face.
If the above has demonstrated anything, it's that I'm not overly adept at balancing the needs of a 11 month and 3 year old at the same time. I simply can't put two of them on a potty at once. Caleb is allowed to relieve himself in his nappy, much to my own disappointment (little did I know just how disappointed I would be). Anna has managed to become distracted between finishing on the potty and coming back to the table and is now wandering around looking for her barbies with nothing on, apart from her shirt. Poor timing on my part results in me chasing her with Caleb in one hand (as he still works on getting more pooh out). She was eventually cajoled back to her seat to finish lunch, only after putting Caleb down to wash Anna's hands. Caleb had found the cat, who had sensibly headed for high ground. We head upstairs to get Caleb on the potty. I manage to remove the offending nappy and get him into the bathroom to see if we can finish what he's started. Anna's pretty darn good at the potty, but maybe not yet perfect on her own. Clean-up is required before Caleb can use that same seat. Clean up commences with Caleb in one hand (because bum is still a mess and he can't be permitted to roam the house). Bum is cleaned and we get him sitting on the potty. I may have sighed lightly at this point, but any relief was short-lived: the phone rings.
In hindsight, I can see that I should have left the phone. But I feel the overwhelming urge to answer it, in case it is the day-home lady. The catch, clearly, is that Caleb is not in a nappy. He's almost certainly finished poohing but has definitely not yet peed. I know it's coming but I need to get that phone. I run downstairs with Caleb under my arm and answer the phone. He sits quietly on my lap for about 30 seconds while the day-home lady and I talk about how I got the communication wrong... and then... my leg quickly warms. I know what's going on. I don't even miss a beat in my conversation with day-home lady. I simply squeeze my legs together tightly to try and make sure no pee gets on the floor. That's one more thing to clean and I'm not up for it. Anna declares that she's finished lunch and instantly escalates her feelings about getting down from the table to the "extremely dramatic". The cat, meanwhile, seems to have summed up the situation and knows I'm not letting Caleb go, so parks herself just out of his reach. Caleb goes mental trying to reach her. The cat taunts us both like only a cat can.
And that's the moment.
As I sit there covered in someone else's pee, struggling with one exhausted arm to keep a half-naked toddler from mauling the cat that taunts him, taking it on the chin from the day-home lady about how I screwed up, all to a back-ground music of a toddler in full tantrum over absolutely nothing, I wonder to myself: "am I really cut out for this?"
Of course, when you actually manage to pull it together, it is gold. And a couple of photos to prove it:
Today was a typical day in the life. I had but one goal for the day: get to the garden centre to buy some plants for Anna to pot and watch grow. I was going to do this while Caleb spent an hour checking out his new nursery. Simple enough, the casual reader thinks. Let's just say that I am likely to fail at both today and through no lack of effort on my part.
The first cracks in my plan became immediately evident. I was meant to phone the day-home lady where Caleb was going. However, I didn't have the number. Ange did, but was at work. I phoned her mobile. Nothing. Her office. Nothing. I emailed. Nothing. I tried to find her filing on the day home. A mess created--but I was no closer to this darned phone number. Anna, meanwhile, has decided that porridge is no longer what she wants for breakfast. Caleb has shredded his toast but has consumed very little. More toast goes in for Anna and Caleb gets some applesauce and more files where the number might potentially be are pulled out. Oma phones and is surprised about this whole "day home" thing creeping up on us and starting this week. As I start the explanation, the toast pops, marmite (yuck) is applied and sticky toast is given to Anna. Caleb has finished the applesauce and wants something else--what that is remains unclear, but he is increasingly agitated that I'm not getting it for him. Phone applied to one ear, Anna needs something to keep her hair back. A top-to-bottom house search ensues for a hair band while Caleb is temporarily placated with a tupperware container. No hair band turns up, but (on the phone) Oma has arrived at a level of peace that we're doing the right thing. Caleb, however, is not at any level of peace. I determine that this is likely due to the relative humidity in his nappy. I pick him up to take him to the potty and no sooner do I have the offending nappy off and him on the potty (don't wonder if it's worth trying this nappy-free thing, there's a light at the end of this tunnel that shines very, very brightly) than Anna needs her hands and face washed. She comes up to the bathroom. Caleb is balanced on one knee, Anna's hands are washed and Caleb is soon into a new nappy. Dad's trousers are suspiciously damp, but certainly not wet and the situation is simply ignored. Caleb fights getting his clothes on while Anna starts lobbying for the Ariel movie. I curse Disney (possibly audibly) and start the explanation of one shouldn't get up and start watching TV at once. Caleb is after the cat. Cat is rescued. Further negotiation for the TV heats up with Anna. Caleb is eating small bits from Anna's dollhouse. Small bit are rescued from his mouth. Further negotiation for the TV continues. Caleb is at the top of the stairs. Caleb is rescued from himself but is already poised to go after the cat again who has stupidly walked back into the picture. Anna wins the TV argument though time limitations are (supposedly) established. Caleb is taken for his morning nap because I still haven't worked out a way to contact the day-home lady.
It's 9am.
The house has now been turned upside down because of breakfast, a lost phone number and the shocking disappearance of all hair-manipulation accessories.
At 9:40, Ange phones with the number for the day-home lady. However, the day-home lady doesn't answer and I'm at a loss. I figure that I will just head over and ring the bell. They are likely to be out, but I can chill with the kids at the park or a coffee shop. I ring the bell at 10. They're not there. We go for coffee. I keep ringing back. There's nothing and so we head to the park. We do a lot of playing and by noon, we're all cold, tired and hungry. I pull the plug on the day-home trial.
We're back at home and I navigate the breakfast mess to make lunch. Somehow, Anna has successfully convinced me that boiled potatoes are on the menu. I scramble to get them boiled while feeding Caleb. Caleb isn't entirely pleased with my selection for him and the pile of food under his chair is now reaching alarming levels. Somehow, Anna's lunch comes together. We spend nearly 5 minutes very deliberately cutting the chives for her potatoes. Caleb is back on the tupperware entertainment plan. Anna is two bites into her lunch and I'm finally getting some real food shoveled into Caleb when Anna suddenly announces the very urgent need for the potty. I implore her to go it alone if I help her with her tights. She gets down from the table and runs away. Oh God! Caleb has the yogurt pot. How the hell did he reach that? I quickly calculate the bigger mess: pee or yogurt. Trusting in Anna's bladder, I snatch the yogurt with minimal collateral mess. Anna is summoned back. Tights are removed and she goes up to the potty while, as if on queue, Caleb makes the pooh face.
If the above has demonstrated anything, it's that I'm not overly adept at balancing the needs of a 11 month and 3 year old at the same time. I simply can't put two of them on a potty at once. Caleb is allowed to relieve himself in his nappy, much to my own disappointment (little did I know just how disappointed I would be). Anna has managed to become distracted between finishing on the potty and coming back to the table and is now wandering around looking for her barbies with nothing on, apart from her shirt. Poor timing on my part results in me chasing her with Caleb in one hand (as he still works on getting more pooh out). She was eventually cajoled back to her seat to finish lunch, only after putting Caleb down to wash Anna's hands. Caleb had found the cat, who had sensibly headed for high ground. We head upstairs to get Caleb on the potty. I manage to remove the offending nappy and get him into the bathroom to see if we can finish what he's started. Anna's pretty darn good at the potty, but maybe not yet perfect on her own. Clean-up is required before Caleb can use that same seat. Clean up commences with Caleb in one hand (because bum is still a mess and he can't be permitted to roam the house). Bum is cleaned and we get him sitting on the potty. I may have sighed lightly at this point, but any relief was short-lived: the phone rings.
In hindsight, I can see that I should have left the phone. But I feel the overwhelming urge to answer it, in case it is the day-home lady. The catch, clearly, is that Caleb is not in a nappy. He's almost certainly finished poohing but has definitely not yet peed. I know it's coming but I need to get that phone. I run downstairs with Caleb under my arm and answer the phone. He sits quietly on my lap for about 30 seconds while the day-home lady and I talk about how I got the communication wrong... and then... my leg quickly warms. I know what's going on. I don't even miss a beat in my conversation with day-home lady. I simply squeeze my legs together tightly to try and make sure no pee gets on the floor. That's one more thing to clean and I'm not up for it. Anna declares that she's finished lunch and instantly escalates her feelings about getting down from the table to the "extremely dramatic". The cat, meanwhile, seems to have summed up the situation and knows I'm not letting Caleb go, so parks herself just out of his reach. Caleb goes mental trying to reach her. The cat taunts us both like only a cat can.
And that's the moment.
As I sit there covered in someone else's pee, struggling with one exhausted arm to keep a half-naked toddler from mauling the cat that taunts him, taking it on the chin from the day-home lady about how I screwed up, all to a back-ground music of a toddler in full tantrum over absolutely nothing, I wonder to myself: "am I really cut out for this?"
Of course, when you actually manage to pull it together, it is gold. And a couple of photos to prove it:
Friday, February 20, 2009
U-Haul this
We continue to navigate Vancouver and all it has to offer. I see the mountains but I can't imagine when I'll have time to access them. I see the ocean but I can't imagine when I'll be able to afford the boat to sail on it. But that's all academic, because right now seems more about keeping the good ship Fitch-Dudek afloat.
Vignettes of frustration
Child care.
For the most immediate perspective, we resolved that the easiest route to take is to try and navigate Canadian Immigration and bring over a nanny from Britain. We don't take dealing with federal bureaucracy lightly (I'm still waiting on a reply from the International Tax Office from a request submitted in December, 2006), but we reckon it will be easier than finding anything convenient that we feel suits here. Daycare was our goal. Apparently the wait list for most hovers around 2-3 years. And, to be fair to those with whom we've spoken, they tend to be genuinely nice and very sympathetic. They acknowledge the relative absurdity of having to place your 'child' on a waitlist at conception to stand any chance of them ever being included. Pre-conception is advised. When I ask what people do who move to the city (and presumably don't throw their kids' names on waitlists for random cities on the chance they might move there), the child care community is unanimous in their response: "Gee, I don't know. Have you considered a nanny?" Nanny it is. The brief update, however, is that Anna is in a little day-home-style nursery. She's settling in okay, but is one of only a couple of girls and while it seems safe and nurturing, I don't get the feeling she'll be challenged. We'd rather have the nanny take her to a proper pre-school for an hour or two daily/few times a week. Caleb is going to a different day-home situation. The upside is that the lady is Polish and right on board with our nappy-free outlook (they call it "EC" here?) and she'll speak some Polish with him. It's also about 20 feet from Ange's work.
Driving.
We've put more than 13,000km on our cars in 4 months. Enough said.
House buying.
This, thankfully, has come to an end. Fifteen offers. One house we nearly ended up with needed a new foundation (house still for sale). One had a crazy lady who wouldn't sell while her ex-husband was desperate to sell. It all went to court. The court sided with crazy lady (house still for sale). One guy wouldn't budge on his price from the boom (house still for sale). One house we threw a verbal offer on are now asking less than we threw out (house still for sale). Anyway, we've found a nice little house that fits our needs in a superb area. We're well happy and genuinely excited to move in. It'll be 3 miles to my work. I'm already contemplating commuting on the BSA!
Moving.
Thank goodness for our friends and family. The move from Calgary to Vancouver nearly broke my back. We've got loads of people lined up for 28 February. I phoned U-Haul this morning to confirm everything was in order. Sadly, it wasn't. Despite my online reservation to have the truck for 24 hours, I was allocated only 5 hours. I asked if they thought that might be something they ought to have contacted me about. Apparently they tried. I suspect they didn't try very hard. Anyway, I pointed out that the driving from the U-Haul store to the flat and then the drive from the flat to the new house and then the drive from the house back to the U-Haul store would occupy at least 2.5 hours of my 5 (with no traffic). That left only 2.5 hours to load up the truck with all our worldly possessions and unload it at the other end. The jerk was unwilling to concede that it might be problematic. It was incredible: he became a robot. He would only say that "it's possible to do it." He refused to engage in conversation. I asked under what circumstances he thought it could be pulled off. He was unwilling to outline what sort of resources I was supposed to have at my disposal. I suppose I also did not concede that I had Vince on my side and that sort of absurd challenge would probably have been right up his alley. After much one-way discussion, I enquired what the late fees were. $50 per half hour! I excused myself from the conversation and phoned head office. They were most helpful and have arranged an alternate plan. It may involve me picking up the truck on Saturday morning in Chilliwack or Hope or Blaine, Washington but we'll have the truck all day! If you're considering U-Haul, check back to see if it works out. At the risk of the blog becoming some kind of counseling device, I'll rail against them right here if it doesn't.
Okay, deep breath. I've got 200km of driving ahead of me today...
Vignettes of frustration
Child care.
For the most immediate perspective, we resolved that the easiest route to take is to try and navigate Canadian Immigration and bring over a nanny from Britain. We don't take dealing with federal bureaucracy lightly (I'm still waiting on a reply from the International Tax Office from a request submitted in December, 2006), but we reckon it will be easier than finding anything convenient that we feel suits here. Daycare was our goal. Apparently the wait list for most hovers around 2-3 years. And, to be fair to those with whom we've spoken, they tend to be genuinely nice and very sympathetic. They acknowledge the relative absurdity of having to place your 'child' on a waitlist at conception to stand any chance of them ever being included. Pre-conception is advised. When I ask what people do who move to the city (and presumably don't throw their kids' names on waitlists for random cities on the chance they might move there), the child care community is unanimous in their response: "Gee, I don't know. Have you considered a nanny?" Nanny it is. The brief update, however, is that Anna is in a little day-home-style nursery. She's settling in okay, but is one of only a couple of girls and while it seems safe and nurturing, I don't get the feeling she'll be challenged. We'd rather have the nanny take her to a proper pre-school for an hour or two daily/few times a week. Caleb is going to a different day-home situation. The upside is that the lady is Polish and right on board with our nappy-free outlook (they call it "EC" here?) and she'll speak some Polish with him. It's also about 20 feet from Ange's work.
Driving.
We've put more than 13,000km on our cars in 4 months. Enough said.
House buying.
This, thankfully, has come to an end. Fifteen offers. One house we nearly ended up with needed a new foundation (house still for sale). One had a crazy lady who wouldn't sell while her ex-husband was desperate to sell. It all went to court. The court sided with crazy lady (house still for sale). One guy wouldn't budge on his price from the boom (house still for sale). One house we threw a verbal offer on are now asking less than we threw out (house still for sale). Anyway, we've found a nice little house that fits our needs in a superb area. We're well happy and genuinely excited to move in. It'll be 3 miles to my work. I'm already contemplating commuting on the BSA!
Moving.
Thank goodness for our friends and family. The move from Calgary to Vancouver nearly broke my back. We've got loads of people lined up for 28 February. I phoned U-Haul this morning to confirm everything was in order. Sadly, it wasn't. Despite my online reservation to have the truck for 24 hours, I was allocated only 5 hours. I asked if they thought that might be something they ought to have contacted me about. Apparently they tried. I suspect they didn't try very hard. Anyway, I pointed out that the driving from the U-Haul store to the flat and then the drive from the flat to the new house and then the drive from the house back to the U-Haul store would occupy at least 2.5 hours of my 5 (with no traffic). That left only 2.5 hours to load up the truck with all our worldly possessions and unload it at the other end. The jerk was unwilling to concede that it might be problematic. It was incredible: he became a robot. He would only say that "it's possible to do it." He refused to engage in conversation. I asked under what circumstances he thought it could be pulled off. He was unwilling to outline what sort of resources I was supposed to have at my disposal. I suppose I also did not concede that I had Vince on my side and that sort of absurd challenge would probably have been right up his alley. After much one-way discussion, I enquired what the late fees were. $50 per half hour! I excused myself from the conversation and phoned head office. They were most helpful and have arranged an alternate plan. It may involve me picking up the truck on Saturday morning in Chilliwack or Hope or Blaine, Washington but we'll have the truck all day! If you're considering U-Haul, check back to see if it works out. At the risk of the blog becoming some kind of counseling device, I'll rail against them right here if it doesn't.
Okay, deep breath. I've got 200km of driving ahead of me today...
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Pot Holes
With the recent freeze-thaw going on in Vancouver (albeit a lot more freeze than thaw), the roads have started to disintigrate. Some of the holes that developed were truly shocking. Frustratingly, in a city where bridges form bottlenecks all over, the pot holes were at their worst on a couple of key bridges. A couple of key bridges that are necessary for Ange and I to get to work.
Yesterday's total commuting time crested an incredible 4 hours. Not helping the situation on Oak Street was the abandoned, stalled car in the far left lane ("fast" lane). Either way, it was over an hour to go 3km to get to the bridge, where people gingerly crawled along avoiding holes that would almost certainly swallow a Smart car. I'm sure those in their SUVs were suddenly vindicated. What's more amazing is the government's response time to this problem. Opa and I were commenting on the bridge a week ago. It was only when the state of the bridge became lead-story, provincial news that the Ministry of Transportation became vaguely interested. Now, however, we're all action. There's even a hotline and online form (check it) set up so you can report a pot hole in your 'hood. The online form asks the relevant questions, like "How big is the hole?" but then offers few options, the largest being 'bigger than a dinner plate.' Not that all dinner plates are the same, but 'big enough to swallow a Smart car' indicates they might not have a complete grasp of the situation. At least they give you the opportunity to input "How easy is it to avoid?" with one of the options being 'impossible to avoid' and "How likely is it to damage a car?" with an option that it is 'very likely'.
Not really inspiring any confidence, the City claims that the pot hole situation is no worse than in other years. Perhaps if they place the same resource and urgency on pot-hole filling as they do on snow removal, getting an SUV might be the better option over waiting for the government response.
Yesterday's total commuting time crested an incredible 4 hours. Not helping the situation on Oak Street was the abandoned, stalled car in the far left lane ("fast" lane). Either way, it was over an hour to go 3km to get to the bridge, where people gingerly crawled along avoiding holes that would almost certainly swallow a Smart car. I'm sure those in their SUVs were suddenly vindicated. What's more amazing is the government's response time to this problem. Opa and I were commenting on the bridge a week ago. It was only when the state of the bridge became lead-story, provincial news that the Ministry of Transportation became vaguely interested. Now, however, we're all action. There's even a hotline and online form (check it) set up so you can report a pot hole in your 'hood. The online form asks the relevant questions, like "How big is the hole?" but then offers few options, the largest being 'bigger than a dinner plate.' Not that all dinner plates are the same, but 'big enough to swallow a Smart car' indicates they might not have a complete grasp of the situation. At least they give you the opportunity to input "How easy is it to avoid?" with one of the options being 'impossible to avoid' and "How likely is it to damage a car?" with an option that it is 'very likely'.
Not really inspiring any confidence, the City claims that the pot hole situation is no worse than in other years. Perhaps if they place the same resource and urgency on pot-hole filling as they do on snow removal, getting an SUV might be the better option over waiting for the government response.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
It doesn't snow in Vancouver
Waking up this morning, I realised that it was snowing. Again. It seems that despite the express denial of most Vancouverites, it snows here. A lot. Certainly a lot more than Reading, anyway. It has, however, made for a most beautiful Christmas.
Christmas, and the season generally has been brilliant. Though we've done very little but eat well and play with new Christmas toys, the background noise continues to be buying a house. We've come close. As close as the Vancouver Canucks have come to winning the Stanley Cup. And just like the Canucks, we managed to bungle the purchase at the very last moment. In fairness to us, we were really excited about coming to terms on a house near the Commercial area of Vancouver. Minutes from downtown, close-ish to work, shops and cafés on our doorstep and in a great community. It was a lovely heritage home. Very old by Canadian standards (though 40 years newer than our terrace in Caversham), it had lovely heritage features. We knew there were some issues being an older home, but felt that we were happy to either live with them or fix them. Still, we brought in an inspector. He pointed out many of the issues we had assumed. He also pointed out something that--rather ridiculously--we hadn't noticed. It started with an oddly leaning wall in the basement and went from there. To make a very long and rather stressful story short, structural engineers were recommended and an expert in old home foundations called in by the seller. His advice was that it was "fine," although not certainly so. If he was wrong, it would be about $100,000 to lift the house (yep, you can do that with wooden structures) and re-pour the foundation. Hmmm. We were thinking it might be nice to add a gas connection to the kitchen for a gas stove rather than a electric one. Suddenly we're talking about lifting houses off their foundations. We balked. We pulled out.
So, again, we find ourselves back at the drawing board. Or, at least, the purchasing board. Daily drives into Vancouver to look at houses are much more tiring it the snow. The ploughs only hit the main streets and there is a lot of snow here. Side streets are really at the limit of my comfort in a front-wheel drive car with all-season tyres. Every foray into the side streets to look at homes invariably involves me driving someone else's car out before we can move forward. Years of Alberta and Ontario winters (along with several others who I've met also driving others out) serving their purpose to keep traffic flowing in lieu of the municipal governments of the Lower Mainland just clearing the streets.
Anna has not taken the snow as I had expected. Snow was meant to be the most exciting thing ever to a kid, right? Despite being born in a Calgary deep freeze, Anna has gone soft living in England. Our first adventure out lasted all of 3 minutes. Laughter and giddy-ness were quickly transformed into tears with the realisation that snow is cold. A brisk wind made the cold seem colder, but we certainly weren't at risk of frost-bite. No amount of negotiation was going to keep her outside. Days later, we attempted another winter-play excursion. Being slightly warmer and with the precedent of dozens of kids clearly enjoying themselves, we had a minor break-through and spent a good 45 minutes going up and down the snow-covered hill. Nevertheless, the snow remains a negative for Anna. It is now cramping her ability to 'scoot' on her new scooter or ride her bike.
Caleb, meanwhile, takes everything in. He has started to move, though is ages behind his friends Graham and Jack. Both are only slightly older, yet seem to be able to not just walk but are confident enough on their feet to start skating or skiing or playing football. Caleb has developed this worm like movement that is surprisingly effective at getting him across a room. On a hardwood floor, he spins on his belly incredibly well as he surveys what should next be chewed and then he's off like a worm. To be honest, it's all very break-dance. Were we to put on some MC Hammer, and let him go, he'd do alright amongst the entertainers in Covent Gardens.
So, as we slip and slide into the new year the transition from Caversham to Vancouver moves at a pace only slightly quicker than Caleb's worm progression. We've got an offer in on another house. It smaller, less character and slightly less functional than the house-with-a-questionable-foundation-in-an-earth-quake zone, but the new house we're offering on is in a killer area for us. We'll see what happens. Still, leaving something major for 2009 probably isn't so bad. Somehow in 2008, we packed in several international trips, a new baby, two new jobs, an international relocation and more than a few weekend adventures. Buying a house can wait 'til this year.
Christmas, and the season generally has been brilliant. Though we've done very little but eat well and play with new Christmas toys, the background noise continues to be buying a house. We've come close. As close as the Vancouver Canucks have come to winning the Stanley Cup. And just like the Canucks, we managed to bungle the purchase at the very last moment. In fairness to us, we were really excited about coming to terms on a house near the Commercial area of Vancouver. Minutes from downtown, close-ish to work, shops and cafés on our doorstep and in a great community. It was a lovely heritage home. Very old by Canadian standards (though 40 years newer than our terrace in Caversham), it had lovely heritage features. We knew there were some issues being an older home, but felt that we were happy to either live with them or fix them. Still, we brought in an inspector. He pointed out many of the issues we had assumed. He also pointed out something that--rather ridiculously--we hadn't noticed. It started with an oddly leaning wall in the basement and went from there. To make a very long and rather stressful story short, structural engineers were recommended and an expert in old home foundations called in by the seller. His advice was that it was "fine," although not certainly so. If he was wrong, it would be about $100,000 to lift the house (yep, you can do that with wooden structures) and re-pour the foundation. Hmmm. We were thinking it might be nice to add a gas connection to the kitchen for a gas stove rather than a electric one. Suddenly we're talking about lifting houses off their foundations. We balked. We pulled out.
So, again, we find ourselves back at the drawing board. Or, at least, the purchasing board. Daily drives into Vancouver to look at houses are much more tiring it the snow. The ploughs only hit the main streets and there is a lot of snow here. Side streets are really at the limit of my comfort in a front-wheel drive car with all-season tyres. Every foray into the side streets to look at homes invariably involves me driving someone else's car out before we can move forward. Years of Alberta and Ontario winters (along with several others who I've met also driving others out) serving their purpose to keep traffic flowing in lieu of the municipal governments of the Lower Mainland just clearing the streets.
Anna has not taken the snow as I had expected. Snow was meant to be the most exciting thing ever to a kid, right? Despite being born in a Calgary deep freeze, Anna has gone soft living in England. Our first adventure out lasted all of 3 minutes. Laughter and giddy-ness were quickly transformed into tears with the realisation that snow is cold. A brisk wind made the cold seem colder, but we certainly weren't at risk of frost-bite. No amount of negotiation was going to keep her outside. Days later, we attempted another winter-play excursion. Being slightly warmer and with the precedent of dozens of kids clearly enjoying themselves, we had a minor break-through and spent a good 45 minutes going up and down the snow-covered hill. Nevertheless, the snow remains a negative for Anna. It is now cramping her ability to 'scoot' on her new scooter or ride her bike.
Caleb, meanwhile, takes everything in. He has started to move, though is ages behind his friends Graham and Jack. Both are only slightly older, yet seem to be able to not just walk but are confident enough on their feet to start skating or skiing or playing football. Caleb has developed this worm like movement that is surprisingly effective at getting him across a room. On a hardwood floor, he spins on his belly incredibly well as he surveys what should next be chewed and then he's off like a worm. To be honest, it's all very break-dance. Were we to put on some MC Hammer, and let him go, he'd do alright amongst the entertainers in Covent Gardens.
So, as we slip and slide into the new year the transition from Caversham to Vancouver moves at a pace only slightly quicker than Caleb's worm progression. We've got an offer in on another house. It smaller, less character and slightly less functional than the house-with-a-questionable-foundation-in-an-earth-quake zone, but the new house we're offering on is in a killer area for us. We'll see what happens. Still, leaving something major for 2009 probably isn't so bad. Somehow in 2008, we packed in several international trips, a new baby, two new jobs, an international relocation and more than a few weekend adventures. Buying a house can wait 'til this year.
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