Thirty Years

Thirty years.

10,957 days.

262,974 hours.

15, 778, 463 minutes.

 

5 children.

36,500 diapers.

32,871 meals.
 

11 houses.

11 renovations.
 

 

1 marriage.

I'm impressed.


Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad.
We love you!

Judah for Prime Minister

We have election fever over here. Luke and I have been reading and listening and watching and guffawing for a few weeks now. With the actual e-day looming, however, I've been thinking long and hard about what I would actually want in an ideal Prime Minister and I've come to the conclusion that the ideal candidate isn't running. That's because the ideal candidate is currently asleep in his crib. That's right ladies and gentlemen, your future-perfect PM is Judah.


Yes, I know he isn't quite two and frequently wets himself, but hey that's better than "unintentionally" hiring and ca-hooting  with a bunch of shady fraudsters. Or being found in contempt of parliament. I mean, time outs are one thing, but contempt sounds like one serious time out.


Plus, Judah has the mass appeal that could politically unite Canadians once and for all.


For the Conservatives: He's tough on crime. This morning the cat tried to steal a Pringle from him. He pulled her tail and shrieked at her. Never mind that the cat was hungry- she'll never learn if he doesn't punish her in some unequivocally harsh manner which ignores the root of the problem.


For the Liberals: He's fiscally responsible. Like surpluses? He's got at least 60 cents in pennies stashed in the cold air return. Want a learning passport? He gives his dad a hug every morning before he goes to school. Sometimes he even shares his cheerios with him. How's that for a learning passport?


For the NDPs: He's an equal-opportunities kisser. He kisses one person in the room and he immediately has to kiss all of them- no matter their SES, cultural background, or possible relation to the Chocolate Labrador family. They all get to feel his love. Plus, he loves the arts. Just yesterday he did a chalk drawing on the wall of the living room.


For the Greens: He has never owned a car in his life, with the exception of his Little Tykes number with runs on Dadaline- a very cheap, seemingly endless source of fuel. He also uses cloth diapers and eats organic raisins. Need I say more?


For the Bloc: He speaks French almost as proficiently as he speaks English. Never mind that his English is 90% unintelligible. And he loves poutine. Take that Harper.  


And so ladies and gentlemen, the choice is clear. A vote for Judah Hoekstra on May 2nd is a vote for a kinder, gentler, more nap-filled Canada. Besides, no one since Trudeau has been able to rock a hat like him.

Love-Hate Wednesday: The banjo edition

Happy Wednesday!

The sun is shining! The birds are singing! Life is beautiful. Unless....

You happen to be a student in the middle of exams... like Luke.

Luke, my darling, is in the thick of final exams for his first year of engineering. He has physics and statics already under his belt, and calculus (horrors), materials, design and programming yet to come. Have I mentioned I'm so so SO happy I studied English?

This time 4 years ago I was reading this: 

I heard a thousand blended notes,

While in a grove I sate reclined,

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

And Luke, 4 years later, is reading this:

As t increases, the particle moves along a path, a curve C in 3- space... :|

If only we could build bridges out of Wordsworth. Hrmm....we'll work on that.

In the meantime, Luke's evenings are FULL of studying which means they are EMPTY of Jennie. A major problem worthy of my hating.

I am coping, however. I have rented Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Green Gables the sequel, I have removed the winter-worn Twinkie wrappers and beer cans from my garden (yes, we live in that kind of neighbourhood), I have encouraged Judah not to write on the walls, I have cleaned the fridge, I have finished two novels (reading them, not writing- I don't have that much free time), I have lost several staring contests with the cat  and I have gone to bed by 10 pm for the better part of two weeks. I'm a regular party animal.

Soon and very soon the exam season will be done. London will empty of the majority of its ugg- wearing blondes and Rayban- wearing jocks. The streets will be rid of the season's last crimson sprinkling of  beer cups. And I will have my Luke back. I cannot wait!

Now for a little bit of love! We planted our seeds about two weeks ago and Judah and I have been diligently sunning them, rotating them, watering them and talking to them. The other morning I came into the bathroom to find Judah filling his watering can in the toilet and dousing the tomato plants. Yum! That must have been the special touch they needed because all of our plants are growing like banshees (yes, you can use banshees in numerous un-banshee related contexts).

And a final love for the week- the banjo playing, folk song whiz that is Old Man Luedecke. I saw Old Man Luedecke in a show at Hugh's Room in November and I've been an ardent fan ever since. This week Luke and I have both had a Luedecke ear worm. Mine is this song, In the Beginning, which I love, and have claimed as our current "song". Luke's is this one, Little Bird, which he initially found hilarious because he thought the subject was something akin to Paradise by the Dashboard Light and not and environmental anthem...but there you go.

Happy listening and happy Wednesday!

Crackdown

Judah is not quite 21 months (I think...I sort of lost count around 19.5) but as those who know him well are aware, if you ask him how old he is he will proudly tell you he’s “tchoo!” For awhile I thought this little pronouncement was a product of two being the only number Judah could articulate to the point that anyone but the cat would understand him – I was wrong. 

It’s become clear to me that Judah really is “tchoo”, not in the chronological sense, but in the even more important attitudinal sense. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, we’ve entered the “terrible twos”. I used to think the terrible twos were a bit of a myth- how bad could a toddler be? Not that bad... Right? Right? Right?.... Wrong again. He’s only 30 pounds and about three feet tall, but his willpower could fill a small football stadium. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against strong willed people. I come from a long line of stubborn, opinionated, strong-willed people. Heck, I am one. Parenting someone with such a will, however, is proving to be a bit of a challenge. 

I can appreciate that Judah likes to choose what shoes he wants to wear for the day, what he’d like to eat for breakfast, whether he will take orange juice or milk with his snack. I like that he decisively picks the books he’s interested in reading, and focuses for significant periods on blocks or drawing, or any other task that he’s interested in that day. What is harder to appreciate is the same application of will towards diaper changes, for example. 

Scene one – The Diaper Change

*A terrible smell is wafting from the living room. It appears to be emanating from the diaper of the toddler hiding behind the living room curtain with a concentrated look on his face.*

Mommy: Judah did you pooh-pooh?

Judah: No.... poop. 

Mommy: Right. That's what I thought. Let’s change your diaper.

*Judah runs away from his mother shrieking with delight. 

His Mother captures him with lioness- like prowess (or clumsy desperation...who can say really) and lays him on the floor. 

Judah has a royal freak out, and begins to flail and kick*

Judah: No! No! No! 

*When no no no fails to stop his mother’s torture-in-the-name-of-hygiene...*

Judah: Ow! Ow! Ow!

Mommy: Judah, I’m not doing a frontal lobotomy here. 

Judah: NO! OW! NO! *continue ad nauseum*

The same scene has begun to play out around the daily brushing of the teeth, or as Judah affectionately thinks of it- water boarding, not to mention putting on a coat to go outside, having his hair washed, being denied hot sauce at the dinner table, having ambitions to ride the escalator at the library 115 times squelched and so on.

And so, Judah’s willfullness 

 
 

Has slowly begun to tip the balance into...dare I say it...bratty-ness. 

We don’t want Judah to be a brat. People don’t like hanging out with brats. Brats turn into entitled, not -fun- to- be- with adults. Strong-willed people can affect change, brats can affect the need for earplugs. Plus, a house fraught with bratty-ness makes everyone sleepy.

And so we have decided to “crackdown”. We aren’t exactly sure what form this crackdown will take, neither Luke nor I are very severe people. However, I don’t think severity is what’s needed here. I think the key to this little project will be consistency. Sometimes we follow through when we ask Judah to do something for us...and sometimes we bribe...and sometimes we ply him with raisins....and sometimes we take him kicking and screaming from public places...and sometimes he has a (forced) quiet moment of reflection on the bottom stair...and none of the times are we terribly consistent.   

Beginning tomorrow, consistency will be our middle name (not to be confused with any pre-exisiting middle names including Edward, Victoria and Danger).  Here’s hoping our new-found consistency will return our little stubborn sweetheart to us, and send the emerging screaming banshee back from whence he came.

Any tips, tricks or donations are welcome. 

Wish us luck!

Love-Hate Wednesday: The fun with recycling edition

I'm tired tonight and about to indulge in a bubble bath with a book, so I'll be quick!

My first love of the week - Judah has started to make art! Our first attempt at painting was about 9 months ago and Judah promptly attempted to eat the paint...who am I kidding, he did eat paint. That experience was enough to put me off painting avec Jude for awhile. My mom, being a much braver soul than I, tried again - success!! He loved it! We've officially started an art wall in the alcove where Judah likes to hang out- it consists of one painting (which you can see in progress below) and one print out of a photo of dogs which he is in love with. Only a grandmother would take the time to scan google images for such a picture..thank heavens.

 

"I could capture the essence of cubism here, but I think that might freak Morai out. So I shall lower myself to squiggles."

"I am good!"

I also wanted to share a video we took this week, which I love.

I love it

a.) because it stars Jude and I'm clearly obsessed

and

b.) because it proves that no matter how many newfangled Swedish toys you buy a kid, they will still find garbage (or in our case, recycling) more fun.

Also, in light of the theme, I hate when Judah takes chalk to the walls...perhaps I'm squashing his Monet-mural instinct, but a mama's got to draw the line sometimes.

Enjoy!

Design freak: Out with the ugly, in with the re-newed!

I had today off, which naturally meant I had to undertake some sort of home-decor-improvement project.


Since I've shifted our bedroom to a bright, colourful theme, our ceiling fixture's been sort of bothering me. It's fairly new, and had nothing wrong with it per se...it was just very black...and austere...and foreboding...too far? I think not. 


Here's what it looked like this morning... when I woke up to feel its dark, sinister eye upon me. *DUN DUN DUN!*

Isn't it just the light fixture equivalent of Norman Bates? Something had to be done before I found it creeping up on me while I showered.  

A trip to Fabricland was in the offing! 

I normally buy my fabric online because I find much of my local Fabricland's selection is only suitable to bad house-dresses from the 1930's, however, I had been with my mom earlier in the weekend  and a couple of new, bright prints had caught my eye.

Fifteen dollars later, I had a meter of fabric (I still have enough to make throw cushions!) and a lot of velcro tabs. I cut a strip of the fabric approximately four inches wider and one inch longer than the drum shade itself. I then removed the bottom of the fixture and wrapped the fabric (inch by inch) around the perimeter bringing the excess width under and over the shade and affixing with velcro. 

When that was done, I smoothed out any areas that weren't taut and applied a bit of tape, again inside the drum. Once I was happy with the look all around the outside, I replaced the bottom to hide the dirty work, and voila! Fun, happy, non-life threatening drum shade. 

Mmmm! So good!

(Sorry it's so dark. You'll have to come visit in the day to do it justice.)

Our other DIY of the day is one we completed quite awhile ago, but I haven't gotten around to sharing. So here it is- equally, if not more lovely than the light. 

This was our bathroom vanity when we moved in...

Mhmm- nothing inspires like late 80's melamine. Best of all, the counter was painted white over bright pink (I swear the whole house was pink at one point) which was scratching off in a lovely abstract sort of way.

I scoured the internet for a piece of furniture that we could convert into a new vanity. We already had a new sink and tap, but there was no base that seemed to fit the bill. Finally, one day, I swiveled around in my office chair and inspiration struck. We had purchased two teak storage cupboards several years back in Ottawa. They had originally lived in a government building, but had since been retired for something modern (and decidedly less cool I'm guessing). We scored the pair for 50 bucks. And having two in the office was proving a bit crowded... Make it a vanity, you say? Brilliant idea.

Lucky for me, I have a renaissance man to call my own. He plumbed this baby in in a day and then cooked me dinner and played me a piano sonata...or maybe we had pizza and he fell asleep on the couch...regardless, this is how it turned out...

Oooh! Ahhhh! Brushing your teeth has never been so sexy!

There's no accounting for taste

Today I decided to be a super-cool parent (at least for half an hour) and let Judah choose whatever he wanted to eat for lunch. 

These were his choices...

That's a bowl of yogurt, a cracker with peanut butter, an apple, orange juice, a cheese sandwich, pickles, chocolate chips and ketchup. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was pregnant. 

Although his dipping pickles in peanut butter was making me a bit ill, he seemed satisfied with his selections...

There truly is no accounting for taste.

I guess I best be off to prepare the hot peppers, jam and cheerios for breakfast.

Happy Friday!