Circadian Rhythms

Do you have kids with different circadian rhythms? It seems I have one "rooster" kid and one "owl" kid; in other words, one is a morning person and the other a night person. 

I've always been a morning person, myself; at the age of three, I'd be up having porridge with my dad before sunrise, and retiring for my nap by the time my friend woke up and came calling.

I'm still a morning person, but I consider "morning" seven o'clock. Little Bro considers it five freakin' thirty. He's not only awake, but ready to do a 100 burpees and seal the driveway. I barely have time to put socks on, because there's breakfast to be had. Trucks to line up. Couch cushions to hide under. Songs to be swung by the arms to. 

Meanwhile, almost three hours later, Big Bro oozes out of bed and downstairs like cold molasses. It can take a good 10 minutes of sitting on the stairs to process reality before he's ready to even think about eating. 

And when he does get to the table, Little Bro is ready to take a break and join his brother, tucking into his 'Phase 2' bowl of Shreddies. 

The good part of this is that I get a few hours one-on-one with each son during the day (Big Bro's time being during Little Bro's afternoon nap, of course).

The down side of this is that it's a looong day, and I have a kid full of beans at each end of it. Big Bro, the only night owl in the family, comes to life as the sun goes down, pogo-ing around the upstairs hall. 

The other not-so-good part of this is that this is me at either end of the day:

All I can say is, it's a good thing I love their company so much. 

Sentimental

Three years ago, I wrote this sappy post about Big Bro turning one year old.  If you do the math, that means my big boy is about to turn four.

In my post of 2012, I mentioned the feelings of sentimentality mixed with looking forward to and enjoying what each new age has to offer. That could mean simultaneously being delighted to be done with diapers (for one kid, anyway) but also not being able to be in the room when we sell the Jolly Jumper. *sniff*

Big Bro was an adorable baby, an old soul if there is such a thing (mostly because he seemed to be so over that whole baby talk and silly songs thing right from the start). I'm seeing more facets of his personality as he gets older, and he's more delightful all the time. He's funny, patient, creative, thoughtful and silly, still with a bit of that contemplative 'old man' quality at times. He's endlessly curious in a contagious way, my kid who likes GeoPuzzles and cheese equally.

Now that he's out of toddlerhood, I must say it's nice that we can go out for hot chocolate together without my worrying that he'll a) pitch it on the floor (at least on purpose) or b) freak out to "get down" after two minutes.

In fact, we can now have some great chats at the table. He can now entertain us with his confusing hilarious jokes, or I can learn how his stuffed monkey was in his stuffed sheep's belly, even though the monkey is older, and he's a decillion years old. We can discuss thought-provoking hypotheticals over dinner, such as what would happen if your skin fell off. I knew once he started talking he'd have interesting things to say.

So while I am enjoying each new phase in life with my sons, there are admittedly moments where I feel a little sappy about the whole thing. Like when I look at the little Sorels on the boot mat and envision the enormous boots that'll be there one day (you know, that day when they'll be going through loaves of bread in one sitting).

One recent bedtime, while cuddling with my firstborn and reflecting on his upcoming birthday, I had a wave of such sentimentality wash over me. I felt like reminding him just how important he was to me.

OK, I mean, I wasn't expecting something profound; just maybe an acknowledgement remotely related to what I said.


Well. Anyway. I'm sure he knows.

Nooo, Don't Lick That

Parents of very young kids: Do you ever feel that your grand efforts to avoid the winter illnesses are exercises in futility?

Yeah, me too, sometimes.

Throwback Thursday: Even Before Kids...

This is a birthday card I drew about five years ago for a longtime friend of mine, illustrating how NOT party animals we were now that we were in our thirties. Excited as we'd been about seeing the band Signal Hill again at our local pub on Friday night, we realized the idea of a productive Saturday was more appealing than sticking around for the second set-- whether or not we'd yet heard Barrett's Privateers.

And we didn't even have kids yet!

Fast forward to just a few years back: a few of us had a "Girls' Night Out", but we only got going once the kids were in bed. We commented on how LATE we were going out.

It was eight o'clock.

It was still DAYLIGHT. Look out, Ottawa, wild ones on the town! 

I was never that crazy, I'll admit, but once upon a time, going out at 10:30 was so early, we felt we had to explain our reasoning, as the strobe lights illuminated an otherwise empty room and dance floor-- it was so we could be sure to get a table!

This past New Year's Eve, we had a nice dinner with friends and kids, and we  all packed it in and went home around 8. I'm not sure if I'll ever see midnight on purpose again, especially given that we were apparently already like this before having kids as an excuse. Before the prospect of well-rested tykes raring to go before 7 a.m. threatened us. I appreciated sleep even before I knew what it was to go without it for months. 

So, there you have it. Can't totally blame the kids. I relate to that Friends episode where the guys all try to be party animals, and halfway through the night, they just notice how loud the music was and how tired they are, and just want to have hot water with lemon for their strained voices and call it a night.

Anyway, Happy Throwback Thursday. I must be off, or else I won't be able to fit in an episode of our latest Netflix show before our 9:30 bedtime. 

"Y'know what? We're not sad, we're not sad, we're just not 21 anymore. Y'know? I'm 29 years old, dammit, and I want to sit in a comfortable chair, and watch television, and go to bed at a reasonable hour!" -Chandler (Friends)

Fitting In the Fitness

So, who out there resolved to be more physically active in 2015?

Though I rarely actually get to sit down in the run of a day, being active is something I'm always working on, specifically incorporating it into everyday life. Be healthy for myself, and for the family. Have more energy to do 20 reps of "Grand Old Duke of York" with a 25-lb. kid who doesn't tire of said game.

It's not easy in the winter, though. A few things can sabotage one's efforts:

- Insanely cold temperatures that limit outdoor activity to pulling muscles while ripping off a kid's coat and chucking him in the car seat as fast as possible
-Insanely cold temperatures and early darkness that tip the scales in favour of wrapping up like a burrito on the couch instead of, say, taking a bike ride to the playground
-Someone getting sick every week (see my post on The Endless Snot-Filled Winter from last January)

But, where there's a will, there's a way. So how do you do it?

Myself, each week I try to fit in a few 20-minute sessions on our elliptical machine in the evening, while the kids have some dad-and-sons time upstairs. Perfect.

In theory.

Aw. They just love their Mama so much. So much! And I love them too! If they'd just give me a few measly minutes to do some arm blasts, they could see some better hugs and higher-quality airplane rides the rest of the day instead of a mom sprawled bone-tired on the living room floor (although that can be fun for driving dinkies on...).

Well, anyway, it's more fun when physical activity is done as a family. Include the kids in on the fun! So, how about going to an indoor playgym (that doesn't have one of those lame age limits or "no adults on the trampolines" rules)?

Disclaimer: You will likely end up with one of the above-mentioned "sick every week" sicknesses afterward.

What about at home? How about a dance party, or maybe do some family yoga. The kids love doing yoga with me. Ever tried yoga with a toddler? I recommend it. Here are some basic poses to get you started.

 Here's to active living in 2015, however you fit it in!

If It Can Be Done, They'll Do It

The kids got a trampoline for Christmas- One of those little ones with the handle. I remember last year's stir-crazy January vividly and thought the kids would enjoy a trampoline to play with on the days it was too Polar Vortexy outside (such as this past week).

I couldn't get over the amount of warnings that came with this little 3-foot bouncy toy! Between the manual and the tags on the trampoline, I think about every possible behaviour or situation that could lead to any sort of unpleasantness was listed (and forbidden). Lots of exclamation marks and stick guys with red slashes through it.

Wear socks. One at a time. Humans only. Stay in the middle. Bounce on feet only. Get on and off calmly. Nothing in pockets. No food or drink. No sharp objects. Don't jump high. In fact, don't jump at all.

Good God, I thought to myself as I flipped through all the myriad admonitions, talk about taking all the fun out of it! Why don't we just envelop them in a blanket and helmet and sit on the trampoline quietly?! Why... IN MY DAY, they'd bring out the giant trampoline in gym class, and we'd flip on our necks willy-nilly with no nets and no padding over the pinchy pinchy springs, and someone would inevitably go leg-first through the gap... good kid fun! 

This is just a kiddie trampoline anyway. how wild can it get?

Then I was reminded how creative kids could get with even a little trampoline. OK, Little Tikes, I kind of see where you're coming from.

Far be it from a child to use a toy for what it was meant. If it can be done, they'll find a way to do it. Two at a time (or more!) is the only way to go, and why merely bounce when you can do headstands and chin-ups? How about jumping with all your toys around your feet to see if they'll bounce too? What about putting your hand on the surface when someone else is bouncing to see if they'll land on your hand (and then get all mad when they do)?

Good thing there's some common sense on our part as supervisors, at least, because I can't remember whether or not the safety booklet cautions against hanging upside down like a monkey from the handle. Maybe it needs to be added to the list.

The "Christmas Magic" Fail

My early years as a big sister have taught me some lessons about kids, one of which I am reminded of this Christmas.

My sister is just over 8 years younger than I, and I just loved seeing myself as her mentor, role model, camp counselor, activity planner and all-around mother hen, whether she liked it or not. Though some games we played were admittedly a bit manipulative on my part ("I know! Let's pretend I'm dead and you have to give me some of your Smarties to bring me back to life"), I think I generally took pretty good care of my little sis when she was small.

One Christmas, she was about six years old*, and I was right into helping create the magic of Santa Claus for her. Such fun to see the excitement in her eyes as she wondered where Santa might be at any given time on Christmas Eve.

I even helped her set out milk and cookies for Santa with a little note. How adorable is that. What a great big sister I was! If only someone had a camera.

Off she went to bed, beaming with anticipation. And then, you know, because it had to look like Santa had indeed been there when she got up, I proceeded to down the milk and eat the cookies as soon as she was nestled all snug in her bed... or so I thought...

So. That was the Christmas Eve she went to bed thinking her gluttonous sister tried to ruin Christmas and could barely wait five minutes before scarfing down poor Santa's snack that she'd so lovingly prepared. There I was, chipmunk cheeks full of cookie and unable to tell the truth, so I had to just hang my head and awkwardly agree to replenish the plate.

I meant well. I really did. It was supposed to be magical! And she wasn't supposed to come back downstairs!

Lesson learned. And now, as a parent, I'll know to wait a good long time before disposing of any 'snacks for Santa'. Let's not have some of my kids' earliest memories be of their MOM trying to ruin Christmas.

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* This story originally had her and me at 3 and 11 years old, respectively. She tells me, however, that I was probably more like 14 because "I still remember you lounging on the chair in your 'too cool for school' teenage way with your bigger hair when I caught you" (hence the above snazzy 6-inches-of-roots 'Elaine' 'do). Nice try making myself younger in the retelling so it doesn't look as bad, though, she added.

____

I'm delighted to share that I have been shortlisted for the second year in a row in the Canadian Weblog awards! Cartoon-Coloured Glasses has made the Top 5 in the Humour Category. What an honour to be part of it! Thank you.