Before I had kids, I had no trouble running on very little sleep.
When I was going to university I could stay up partying all night, roll in for a full day of classes, and still manage to maintain my concentration all day, no problem.
Now that I have 2 children though, I . . . wait, what?
Where am I?
Whose baby is this?
What’s darker, maroon or burgundy?
Why am I holding mustard?
Why did they change the ending of I Am Legend?
Oooooh, cake!!
Ah, Show and Tell. It’s a time-honoured tradition that teaches children how important it is to have better stuff than other people you know.
And of course the school year starts off with the best of intentions, but as the months wear on . . .
A portrait of every one of your daughter’s classmates that you helped her paint on a large canvas, which you then had framed and donated to the class as a gift.
A hand-knit scarf your great ancestor Mildred Middlebottom made for a soldier who served served in the Franco-Prussian war and single-handedly halted a German invasion while wearing it.
A collection of seashells you gathered together last summer.
Half-finished colouring book.
The same dirty pair of mittens she’s worn to school every day since October because you forgot to send anything for show-and-tell.
A nine volt battery that used to be in a really cool toy that got broken and thrown in the garbage.
The mittens again.
A page torn out of the 2003 International Plant Nutrition Institute calendar.
Mittens.
A tic-tac that sort of looks like a white smartie.
3 Years Ago:
Mrs. Felty: When the baby’s born, I think it’s important to feed him only the best, most nutritous foods.
Felty: Oh definitely. I want to focus on locally produced fruits and vegetables, whole grains, soy-based protein sources and a small amount of lean free-range meat and fish.
Mrs. Felty: Absolutely. All organic produce of course.
Felty: Oh, of course. I want to avoid refined sugars, preservatives, and processed foods altogether.
Mrs. Felty: Perfect, we’re on the same page.
Today:
Mrs. Felty: Felty, we’re running out of time! The house is a mess, we’re a mess, the dog is barking, the baby is crying, we’re never going to get this cake delivered in time for the wedding with Parker crying and screaming.
Felty: I know, I know. Quick, grab him something to eat.
Mrs. Felty: Yeah, good thinking. Let me see . . .
Felty: Here, give him this big bowl of icing.
Mrs. Felty: Perfect! See if you can jam some french fries in there. You know, for roughage.
You think a mopey teenager or a devastated Bella can compete with a toddler who has to live with the sheer agony of a five year old sharing a toy with her brother for five minutes? Seriously?
Then you don’t know five year olds.
Thusly I present a guide – the Before I Had Kids Angst Scale:
This summer, we made the remarkably difficult decision for me to accept a very good job in the U.S., to uproot, leave our home and friends and family, and move not only to a new city, but an entirely new country.
The decision made sense.
It is my absolute dream job. We’ve always wanted to try living in a big city, particularly on the west coast, which we love. The kids are still young enough that they will adapt to this big change. There are no deep friendships or school ties we will be wrenching them away from. The job will afford my family a degree of financial freedom that will have a profound impact on most aspects of our lives, which money, for better or worse, invariably has the power to achieve.
It was the right decision.
But of course it was still an excruciating one to make, particularly as a parent. I will be working more. I will have to commute. We will be leaving behind close friends, a very close family, and the kids’ four grandparents. This is precious time. These are precious years. And I want to be spending them with my family. I’m concerned my new job will borrow some very dear minutes indeed.
But it was the right decision.
So we weighed the options, came to the most logical conclusion, which was that I most definitely should accept the position, and we started getting ready. I quit my (very good) job, we found tenants to live in our home, we sold some of our stuff and donated plenty more.
It hurt, but it was still the right decision.
But now, thanks to an immigration technicality, our move is delayed by five weeks. Five weeks of beautiful opportunities to spend time with grandparents and siblings and friends. Five weeks to soak up the charm and beauty of what remains of this enchanted Saskatoon summer. But also five weeks of agony. Of second- and third-guesses, of scrutiny and questioning and doubt. Because no matter how clear a decision may be, when your children will be affected, there will. always. be. doubt.
It’s the right decision. But I sincerely wish it would hurry the hell up already.
This is an oldie/goodie about parenting daughters.
It’s Chris Rock so it should go without saying, but . . . warning: explicit language, NSFW.
Ahhhh, naptime.
Or as I like to call it, “the happiest time in the history of all times.”
Throughout the day, we tend to gather a list of tasks, impossible to accomplish with two little kids, thinking “oh, we’ll just take care of that during naptime.”
Of course, somehow what actually gets accomplished tends to look more like this:
The Before I Had Kids Dictionary is a guide to words that are no longer in my vocabulary now that I have children.
Former use:
To savour, or take the time to properly enjoy, a particularly tasty meal, perfectly brewed cup of coffee, quiet experience, movie, book or television show.
Replacement:
As in, “Dude, you’d better hork down the last of that sandwich, the kids need a bath before bed.”
Our lovely little city, Saskatoon, has a river running through it.
This year the water is remarkably high and therefore exceptionally dangerous.
Because it flows quickly and has unpredictable currents, hundreds of people have drowned in it over the years – on average, about one person per year (and it’s a *very* small city).
Gee . . . I wonder why?
Yep, it’s time for more funny parenting tweets!
This week’s featured twitter superstar is the quirky and funny Paul Gude – follow him @sgnp
