There Was A Time

There was a time when I was never late.

I was always early – really early.

Because I get anxious when I am going to be late – and grouchy – I always leave myself plenty of time to get where I need to go.

I think it’s rude to be late. I think it shows the person you are keeping waiting that her time is less valuable then yours. I would rather plan for variables – traffic, accidents – leave at least a half a hour earlier then necessary, bring something to do and wait in a parking lot until it’s time to meet the person. If it’s an appointment or an interview, sitting in a person's waiting room for 15 minutes shows you valuable their time and are punctual.

Then I met my husband and I was often late.

He likes to do those last-minute things, you know, water the garden, check to make sure everything is locked, those kinds of things, 15 minutes after we were supposed to leave. It ticked me off every time. So then I started telling him I wanted to leave a hour before we actually did. And I wouldn’t get in the car until he was heading that way himself.

Then we had our guy. If it’s just the two of us, I can get him and myself ready, load the car and feed the cat and be on our way in time for almost everything – except daycare.

This morning I asked our daycare provider if I could drop our guy off early. She said she would get up 15 minutes earlier then normal to take us. And then we were late – by 10 minutes. I felt awful when I dropped him off, terrible as we were driving to work and not that great now.

My apologizes again.

Pretty Good….for Crackers

As most children do, my little guy loves Goldfish crackers. He was introduced to these cheesy cracker delights by my parents, but he must also get them at daycare because he can spot the ‘fish’ package half way down the grocery aisle.

I like crackers. I try to buy the most nutritionally dense, lower in fat variety and I try not to eat them too often.

My son often asks for the ‘fish’ crackers. At the grocery store I have picked up the Goldfish package, looked at the nutritional information and put them back down. They aren’t awful, but they aren’t that great either.

Saying that, we have both Goldfish and the President Choice’s Penguin variety in our house.

We now also have Bear Paws Crunchy crackers.

And they are pretty good. They are the same amount per cracker as the Goldfish and Penguins but they seem bigger and have a nice crunch to them. I thought they were shaped like moon, but my son said it was a hand – more accurately a bear paw. (Yes, I am blond, why do you ask?)

And in the nutritional department? There is one per cent more saturated fat and 10 mg more sodium than Goldfish and Penguins, but the Bear Paws have more vitamins and minerals — vitamin A, calcium, iron, folate (15 per cent), thiamine and niacin.

Dare Paws Crunchy crackers also come in original and vegetable, but I think the cheese is my family’s favourite.

So while my son will still only get crackers as a treat once in a while – usually for long car rides – I may reach for Bear Paws for him and me.

THE Gift

I love Christmas and I have to thank my parents for creating wonderful traditions and memories.

It’s my goal my son has Christmas memories to treasure as well.

For the past month, I have been struggling to come up with a gift my guy would love. He is two. He just had a birthday. What does he really need? He has asked Santa for a cheap digital camera and as he has been a great little boy, I see no reason to believe he will not receive one.

But what about THE gift from Mommy and Daddy?

Finally after looking at toy flyers and asking others, I came up with THE idea, the gift that will make him happy. And it’s my guy who actually came up with it.

My daycare provider L told me recently that E loves Cailou, a cartoon he watches in the morning with J, L’s husband, while L takes the kids to the bus stop.

Last night we were in the basement, feeding the fish and retrieving the balls he threw down the stairs. He turned on the TV and quite clearly asked to ‘watch Cailou.’

I was writing that story down in my journal this morning when it hit me.

THE gift.

I am going to get our guy a Cailou video, book and doll. We will be a hit.
Now where does one find such a thing? Any suggestions?

It’s The Weekend – Yaaaaaaa!

On Friday mornings on the way to daycare, I tell my little guy 'It’s Friday.'

I then ask him: ‘Do you know what that means? It’s the weekend.’

And we both clap loudly and say ‘Yaaaaaa.’

Despite having a wonderful day off yesterday – the boy is now two – I am glad it’s Friday.

It means a visit with the family Saturday, likely some jumping in leaves, napping and playing.

It’s Friday everyone. Yaaaaaaaaaaa!

She Was Right

My longtime friend, Mundanemomma, told me once my son started walking, he would be bruised and scratched for quite some time.

She was right.

My son was a late walker; only within the last few weeks would I say he is walking – and falling.

I picked him up from daycare last week with a giant bruise on his cheek. He had slipped on a toy and hit the toy box.

On Saturday, he bumped his head on the table and there is a small bruise there. On Sunday, the other side of his head was bruised and scratched, with a few scratches on his nose, when he fell and hit the pavement on the neighbour’s driveway.

This morning I noticed he has a bruise on his chin, a bug bite above the scratches on his forehead and other bite on his eye.

Poor guy.

Don’t Panic…Yet!

I was panicking all the way to work this morning.

I was listening to the radio and one of the main stories was about Ontario's new harmonized sales tax (HST) and how it was going to effect, or not effect, renters.

In the 2009 budget, the Liberal party announced residents would get the HST, which combines the eight per cent provincial sales tax with the five per cent federal government’s goods and service tax (GST) offering a 13 per cent HST on a number of items.

According to the province’s website, 83 per cent of Ontarians will not be affected by this change of tax.

Things such as basic groceries, prepared food under $4, the HST will not hit newspapers and famine hygiene products.

However, electricity, gas, Internet fees and professional services such as hair cutting will be beginning July 1.

When I arrived to work, I looked up the above-mentioned website and felt panic subsiding a little bit.

I can still buy fruit without worrying about the HST, however, the cost of getting to work is going to be even more expensive than before. Daycare prices won’t go up but my utilities will.

Where does the government think this extra money is coming from?

My salary hasn’t gone up in years and won’t be going up any time in the near – or far – future.

OK, the panic is creeping back up.

Damn this government.

Damn the people of Toronto Centre, who elected a Liberal member of parliament (MP) in a recent byelection rather than voting in a person from any other party. This would have shown the Premier Dalton McGuinty government that Ontarians are angry with the HST and are willing to go to the polls to do so.

Studies Say ...

Studies say that children who go to daycare are more social and do better in school.

Quite frankly, I don’t care what the studies say.

And isn’t it insulting to the generation of children who were raised by their mothers? Were we social-inept, stupid children? I don’t think so.

So perhaps the study isn’t telling us all that we need to know or maybe it’s telling us this so we don’t feel bad about plunking our children in daycare for 10 hours a day while we get “me” time.

Let the Sadness Begin

Tomorrow I begin to pay someone to have the privilege of looking after my son.

Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t someone pay me to give up the privilege of raising my son?

Fun At Home

Today was supposed to be the first day my son tried daycare.

My daycare provider, LC, phoned me last night to inform me her five-year-old has come down with the flu and suggested my son stay home.

Yippee. (Yippee to my son staying home, not a child caught the flu.)

While I am sure my son will be OK with playing all day, Mommy wasn’t ready to lose her little guy, not even for four hours.

While I had made lots of plans to occupy the time, I really wasn’t looking forward to not being constantly around my little guy.

So while a small part of me was sad that I couldn’t develop pictures, the rest of me was excited that I could instead read, play with blocks, cuddle and enjoy my son as he explores his world.

Extended Maternity Leave

Our maternity leave should be longer.

While I appreciate I won’t get any sympathy from the likes of my mom, who had to quit her job when she was pregnant with my older brother; those from Holland who get only six weeks of maternity leave; or those from the States who get an equally short time to spend with their newborns, I still think Canadians should get a longer maternity leave.

Particularly now that doctors, healthcare workers and moms have returned to the idea that “breast is best.”

“They” say that you should breastfeed your baby until he is one year old. Wonderful. I agree.

However, if you are as unfortunate as I and you have to return to work, how can you feed on demand until your child is one when you have to go back when your child is one?

Should you quit breastfeeding cold turkey? Pump at work? Or, as I am attempting to do, wean prior to the first birthday?

My best friend JM, who has been doing daycare for years and who has two children of her own, said I don’t have to worry about weaning my son from his daily feeds prior to going back to work. She told me babies, or toddlers as he will be in a couple short weeks, are clever creatures.

He is not going to look to daycare provider, LC, for breast milk. And he won’t miss it because I am not there tempting him with it. She said I should be more concerned about weaning him at night, not for his sake but for my own.

While that did put my mind at ease, I still want to help my son learn to fall asleep on his own, without nursing. I want to make his transition to daycare as easy and stress-free as possible - for him anyway.

So if my maternity leave was say ... two years or even a year and a half, I could nurse until he was one and have him weaned before having to head back to work.