Happy as can be at three!

From buffer to bumper
He's the embodiment of joy
When he dances, he's the jolly jumper.
Truly, he's a special boy.

Like Little Critter
He's got wild imagination
I can't think of anything much cuter
Than his train fascination.

Trains, trains, trains -
It's borderline obsessive.
I swear if I hear that Thomas refrain again
I'm gonna get start getting aggressive.

He can play alone for hours
Making up story after story
Maybe it's Dirty Percy at the Wash Tower
Or Gordon basking in his glory.

James got stuck in the shed
Percy delivers mail
10 little monkeys jumped on the bed
And Mater tells tall tales

He lives on pasta, cucumbers and tomatoes
Oh! Don't forget his breakfast waffles
He sings Twinkle Little Star concertoes
And is master of the dawdle

He's good at saying sorry
After bowling over his sister over
I grew up on Atari
And wonder what game will eventually take his world over.

Kael, you're a such of daily joy
Who is sweet as sugar pie.
I'm truly proud you're my boy,
The apple of my eye

One for Chloe

It's one for Chloe
As Chloe turn one
Hey, here's that blankie?
Oh hey, now where's that thumb?

You crawl at the speed of light
Disappear in flash
Stand all of 1 ft at full height
Just before the inevitable crash




You're a curious girl
Who likes to point out flowers and planes
I love to hold you in my arms and swirl
And you love to suck on Kael's trains

Yes, you adore your big brother
And just want to be like him
Everyday, you have a blast with your mother
Except when she gives your nails a trim

When I fold your cute, miniature clothes
I can't but go, "Awwwwww"
When I give you an Eskimo kiss on the nose
You can't help but go, "Haaaaa"

You're already growing up Schmoop
Before we know it you'll be in school
Next thing we know you'll be leaving the coop
And telling us we're SO not cool

But for now...

It's one for Chloe
As Chloe turns one
Hey, where's that blankie?
Oh hey, now where's your thumb?

Letting go

Perusing Facebook the other day, I came across a friend's update which struck me hard. Jon recently took his son Rhys, aged 4ish, to school and was shocked when Rhys refused to hold his hand once they had arrived at school. Up until recently, Rhys had wanted to hold Jon's hand all the way to the classroom.

I'm dreading the day when this scenario plays out for me - even though I know I can't postpone the inevitable. Kael has finally accepted my love (trust me, it took a long time)and before I know it, he'll be rejecting it again. One of the toughest parts of parenting must be letting go.

Glancing at my most recent post in May, I just can't believe the difference in Chloe over a three month period. From a helpless little baby to a spunky cruiser who is already on the verge of walking. They grow up ridiculously fast.

Chloe is scooting around, blabbing away and basically trying to mimic everything her big brother does. Kael had been fine with the idea of having a little sister until he realized that she could Diana crawl into his room,snatch one of his trains and shove it in her mouth. Suddenly, having a lil' sis wasn't so cool as it was threatening. "Chloe, Chloe, NO!!!" has been repeated more times than I care to remember these last few weeks.

I'm happy to report that he's starting to come around - sort of. Some things are just non-negotiable I guess (and I can understand that) but at least he's stopped smacking her if she comes near. Baby steps...

I suppose letting go is tough no matter the age. We want to hold on to the things that are dear to us so badly, whether it's our favourite toy or our child's love and attention, because we're scared we'll lose it forever.

I know I'm going to have to let go at some point. Maybe it's good that I'm aware of it, but somehow I doubt it's going to make it any easier. That's why I'm trying to spend as much time with my children as I can, while I can, before I'm being asked to let go of their hands as we approach the school entrance.

Happy Mother's Day

Dear Mama Michele,

I wrote this poem
To express to you
all of the wonderful things you do:

cook fabulous meal every day
do all the laundry that comes you way

Sing silly songs all day long
Like Iron Man or Bang a Gong

Snap amazing and incredible pics
To be that good, you must have some tricks!

Keep it fresh with your sharp wit
And a sense of humour that never seems to quit

I appreciate you more than I can say,
so I guess the best way is to just say: MERCI!

Je t'aime.

Just to get a reg

Some folks do outrageous things just to get a rep; as parents, Michele and I found ourselves doing the ridiculous just to get a reg - a registration, that is.

A little while back, I was leafing through the community centre brochure to see if there were any classes to enroll Kael in. Even though we spent so long in Taiwan, we weren't sold on the sign-my-kid-up-for-every-class-under-the-sun approach to parenting. However, a fun class to break the routine and interact with other kids seemed like a good idea.

When I came across a gymnastics class for toddlers, I needed look no further. Kael loves to climb, roll around, stand on his head, and spin around and around until he wobbles and crashes down uncontrollably. Not only are all these things encouraged in gymnastics, but, with any luck, his crashes might at least become somewhat controlled after the eight weeks.

But when we popped by the centre to register, one day before the class was scheduled to start, the worker laughed politely in our faces. "Oh, the "Tumbling Monkeys" is our most popular class. In fact, it fills up within hours of registration opening. Try again when the spring sessions start". From what the worker said, these classes sell out faster than Madonna tickets!

A few weeks ago, the brochure for the spring sessions arrived in the mail. We were on it. Michele dropped by the centre and was told that registration wasn't starting until the following Tuesday morning. And because of some technicality with the online registration process, signing up in person was mandatory. "Oh, and just so you aware, other parents start lining up two hours before it opens at 8:30", said the worker. Then he craned his neck around and whispered, as if he were a spy divulging top-secret information, "And you didn't hear this from me: I've heard that some parents go down to the pool early on the morning of the registration. If they're lucky, they'll get a lifeguard who's not trained on protocol, but knows how to register people in the system to do it. Remember, you didn't hear it from me!"

This sparked a debate between Michele and me. Is it really worth going through all this trouble? First of all, listening to instructions from his own parents is not Kael's forte, so is there any point in paying for a class that he won't be paying attention to anyways? From day one, the kid likes to do what he wants, when he wants. On the other hand, maybe he'd really love it and get into it. Maybe he'd have a blast? We can't not try, right?

So we decided to go for it. I walk Flea early in the mornings before work anyways, so I went by to see if we might catch the teenage lifeguard on duty.

I arrived at the centre at 6:15. I wasn't first. Two other parents were sitting there, eyes glazed over and coffee mugs glued to their lips. I tried the old, "I'm here to sign my son up" routine, but this was no rookie I was dealing with. "Registration opens at 9 AM, sir (is it time I started accepting people are going to call me 'sir'? It still feels weird to me). I suggest you take a number and wait with the other parents.", she said. I started to make up a sob story in my head about being a single dad and having to go to work and please, please... Then it ocurred to me: I was considering lying just to get my kid signed up for a gymnastics class. What's happening to me?

"What if I go home and come back?", I asked. "Some of the other parents that come after you might not like it", she warned, but what she really meant was "Go ahead, make their day, punk". I decided to take my chances and returned home to strategize with Michele.

We came up with a plan of attack: I tell work I have an appointment so that Michele can go back while I watch Kael. She will bring Chloe so that she can blame the baby if anyone kicks up a real stink or gets too hostile. We figured no one could argue with the tried and true, "Oh sorry, I had to go feed the baby" excuse.

It turns out that none of the other parents really cared after all. We celebrated Kael officially being signed up for his first gymnastics class as if he had just graduated with his Masters. "It better be worth it...", we thought to ourselves as we sipped on our champagne.

Coming soon: Tumbling Monkeys mid-way progress report

Spontaneous

As with most things spontaneous, it all happened rather quickly. Our friend Wendy called us at about 5 PM on a Wednesday, raving about a play called 'The Elephant Wake' she had seen the previous night. She promised that we would laugh and cry etc. I was intrigued, but knew better than to get my hopes up. I mean, lately, the chances of us being able to plan a night out - let alone do it on a whim - are about as good as seeing an exciting curling match.

But tonight, possibility wafted through the apartment. Dinner was already on the go; Chloe is finally going to bed at around 7; and Kael is not freaked out by the thought of our friends coming over to hang out anymore. We looked at each, a little surprised, and declared,"Hey, we just might be able to pull it off".

We hastily hatched a plan. While the stuffed peppers broiled away in the oven, Michele would take Chloe with her to the grocery store while Kael and I would take Flea out to the park. Meanwhile, Wendy contort herself in positions just painful to look at in her yoga class from 6-7:30 and then pop right over. Easy peasy. Did I mention the play started at 8 o'clock sharp? Ok, it was going to be tight. Though we still had our doubts, we decided to go for it anyway.

I'll spare you the never ending parenting details of picking up, putting away, undressing,brushing, calming down, bathing, dressing, and the rest of the tasks that add up to days of our lives that we'll never get back. The important part is that we got er done in time: Chloe was in bed, Kael bathed and in his pjs, and the dishes washed by 7:45.

But after all that effort, we now had a problem beyond our control: Wendy still hadn't arrived and her phone was off. It took about ten re-dials in a row with no ringing before I accepted that truth. Maybe she was having second thoughts. Maybe the thought of watching Thomas the Train repeatedly for two hours suddenly made her feel ill. Or, maybe her yoga instructor is a real yacker and she was sucked in by the dreaded blabber.. those meditative types can be quite chatty, ya know.

I had to laugh. How ironic that we had actually agreed to it and managed to organize ourselves in time, only for our normally reliable friend to ditch us at the last minute. Michele and I looked at each other from across the room and shrugged: all dressed up (well, at least Michele was) and nowhere to go.

By 7:50, I was ready to slump into the chair, resigned to spending another night like the rest of the last six months; in. That's not to say that I haven't enjoyed the last six months, but there hasn't been a whole lot of different. And tonight had promised to be different. I was actually about to call Wendy something very offensive when Flea suddenly beelined for the door, sniffing madly - a sure sign someone or something is on the deck. I opened the door and there was Wendy, with yoga mat in tow. She apologized, explaining that her phone battery had died. Ok, the truth is that Wendy isn't always that reliable.

Webthrew on our coats on while barking an abridged version of instructions and rushed off to the theatre, which is a convenient two minute walk from our apartment. We arrived just in the nick of time. I'm talking,the-emcee-was-just-about-to-enter-the-room-to-address-the-audience kind of nick of time. Arriving ten seconds later would have meant missing the show. But I guess it was meant to be. We bought our tickets, sat down and the lights dimmed.

Afterwords, we toyed with the idea of indulging in a glass of wine. But visions of Chloe screaming her head off filled our minds and we decided to go back and see if Wendy needed rescuing. And you know what? I didn't even care. I felt fantastic - almost drunk on life - because we had done something spontaneous and out of the ordinary. We had made it out.

You single people may think it's sad (and you'd have a very strong case), but all you parents know that it's all about the small victories.