Monday, October 24, 2011

The Pool

Well, time sure is flying. It seems like just yesterday I lived the babysitting horror story...

We are well into the school year, which so far is going quite swimmingly. Senior Kindergarten seems to be flowing a lot better than JK. Kieran has the same teacher and the same classroom. The class  has about 8 fewer kids (lower enrollment that last year...I think the baby boom was Kieran's year) which seems to make a big difference and their classroom was renovated over the summer to make it quite a bit bigger. In short, it all seems less chaotic than this time last year.

Now, while things are going well on the Kieran side, we are in the throes of hideous swimming lessons with Kaya. Starting at age three, swimming is independent of the parent, which makes me so very happy. I was never a fan of the Parent and Tot classes. Kieran as a baby was the kid who wailed for entire class...he hated the whole process and when he was about two I gave up since it was fairly obvious that that neither one of us derived any sort of pleasure from the class. But when he turned three and could go by himself, he was in love with the water from the very first class and has never looked back.

Because of my ambivalence-bordering-on-dislike of Parent and Tot, and probably an even bigger issue of a complete lack of time, I didn't sign Kaya up for any classes as a baby. Then when she was about 2.5, I figured that I was being selfish so we went and to my utter surprise she loved, loved, loved it. She was the kid that was so happy to be in the class that other parents pointed her out to their own wailing toddlers in a "why can't you jump into the water with wild abandon like HER?" She wasn't crazy about putting her whole head under the water, but neither did most of the kids. And the absolute highlight of the class was the last 5 minutes when they were allowed to go down the mini slide. My God... she adored the slide and would go as many times as possible before the time was up.

The drill for the slide was pretty straightforward. The instructor stood at the slide and would release the kids once their parent was in place at the bottom of the slide. The parent would catch their child and move swiftly far away from the pack of parents at the bottom so that the next parent could move in freely. There was one woman who was particularly annoying in that she would catch her child and then proceed to stand there telling him what a good boy he was: " Good job Evan! Was that fun? Did you go fast?" etc. It wasn't actually the talking thing that was annoying so much as that she was willfully holding up the process. I don't even think she was oblivious to the hold up, I got more of an entitled, selfish vibe from her. 

So, there we are, in the last class, Evan is in just front of Kaya. He goes down first and his annoying mother catches him and whilst praising him profusely on his sliding prowess, moves out of the way but is still completely blocking me...but not blocking the slide. The teacher, I guess because the process of the parents getting into place is pretty quick, let's Kaya go. She plunges into the water with no one to catch her. He immediately realizes that I am no where near the slide (and still trying get the giant annoying mother to MOVE) and jumps in to rescue her. He pulls her to the surface, but she has taken in a huge mouthful of water. Kaya sputters and gags and, naturally, starts WAILING. The entire pool is staring because when the instructor has to jump into the pool at top speed to prevent a near drowning, it grabs everyone's attention. He hands her to me, apologizing profusely because he should never have let her go (obviously). I was furious but he was so apologetic that I told him it was OK and realistically he jumped in the second he let her go and she probably wasn't in any real danger. I was actually more annoyed at this other mother for being the only parent there who repeatedly NOT get out of the damn way for anyone else. She was standing right there and not only did she not apologize, she didn't even acknowledge that any sort of negative episode had occurred.

Anyway, it was sort of a bad scene, Kaya wailing. I was pissed. The instructor apologizing repeatedly, but the class was over, permanently. It all ended on a decidedly low note.

Since she was only a couple of month away from turning three, I decided weeks early that I had done my parental Parent and Tot duty and would wait until she was three to sign her up for swimming lessons. Then because her birthday fell just a few weeks after the spring session started, I decided to wait until September to start her in classes. Also, I wanted to put as much time between the slide episode and the beginning of new classes.

Instead, I bought us a Family Swim pass for the summer so that she would get some practice in the water. After our first outing in the pool, it was quite clear that she was NOT the same child who loved water months earlier. She didn't want anything to do with it and clung to me petrified for the entire time. For almost an hour I tried to coax her into having some fun while Kieran splashed around in joy. The pool had these huge floating flutter boards that could hold three kids so I finally convinced Kaya to lie on one while I pulled her around gently for a few minutes and she was OK. Kieran, seeing some fun to be had, wanted to get on, so I pulled both of them around a bit until Kieran, deciding he'd had enough, rolled off unexpectedly to go do something else. The shift in weight caused Kaya to roll off the other side, again plunging underwater. Cue sputtering, sobbing and even though I was right there, it was all over but the crying. So, I told Kieran we had to leave, which made HIM cry and off I skulked to the change room; defeated.

I made Eric come swimming a few more times to see if he could ease her fears, but she never really got over it. She got a little bit better and loves the beach and to putter on steps of pools...but that's about it.

So, I was quite nervous about starting her in lessons on her own. But, shockingly, she was fine. At first. By the 4th class though, something had happened and she refused to go anywhere past the first step of the water. She wasn't really crying, she just refused to do anything. But that class had a substitute teacher and I thought maybe it had something to do with that. Near the end of the class when they went over the slide, Kaya screeched until the life guard came to get her and brought her back to the shallow steps. Since the class was almost over anyway, I went out to get her, but he shooed me away and told Kaya to sit and wait for the other kids. The next week, when Ryan,her regular teacher was back, it was even worse.  I had read somewhere that often they prefer parents NOT to watch the classes because it can be distracting for the child, and gauging from the dismissal I got from the lifeguard the week before, I gathered that they prefer to deal with these situations themselves.

So, there I was sitting just outside the viewing area - which is small and packed so I opted for the cement bench in the hallway. I thought it might be better if she didn't see me anyway.  After a few minutes, I see many heads in the viewing area suddenly swivel towards me, so I figured she was crying. I sighed and got up and made my way the change room. I wasn't sure if I should walk out in all my street wear to the pool deck to get her and be subjected to another sharp dismissal from the lifeguard, so I stood in the open doorway where she could see me. She stared at me and continued to wail.  I moved out of the way for a bit but left her there, and every so often I would move into her view to assure her that I was nearby. Then another parent came up to me and told me she thought I was doing the right thing by leaving her. "After all, she has to learn," said the woman. It was only at that point that I realized people assumed I was in a Parenting Moment. In reality, much of my reason for leaving her there had more to do with my own fear of the lifeguard and interfering with their process, than teaching my daughter a life lesson.

Anyway, after the class I talked to the teacher and explained that I wasn't sure if I was supposed to come get her and HE told me, in no uncertain terms that I should have and that she was a major distraction to him and that by paying extra attention to her, he almost had an incident with one of the other kids. So much for my Parenting Moment. Furthermore, he said next week, I would have to come into the pool with her. Greeeaaaaatttttt.

So, on Sunday at 9 am, instead of at lounging at home drinking a coffee in my PJs or even sitting on fully clothed on a bench outside the pool, I was in my swimsuit in the pool while a gaggle of parents stared at me from the viewing area. She was better, but I know it was only because I was there. She wouldn't let the teacher hold her to practise floating or kicking like the other kids who stared at me like an alien in their midst. Only after much coaxing did she left him lift her into the air in a pretend jump and then came right back over to me.

So, I guess this is the way it's going to be....Parent and Tot, forever.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

And now we are....really old

Another birthday has come and gone. I took the day off work at the last minute (I had vacation days HR was needing me to "use or lose") so it was nice to wake up and watch an uninterrupted few hours of Netflix with a cup of coffee in my jammies, before heading out to do some errands unencumbered by children. Followed by dinner and a movie with my husband.

Unlike so many disaster-tinged birthdays of yore, it was actually a lovely day.

However, I will say that overnight August 31 started out very, very shaky. As in...the horrendous experience that was the evening of Aug 30 leading up into the wee hour of the morning.

After I post this into the blogosphere I plan on expelling it, Harry Potter into the Pensieve style, from my memory forever, so here goes:

Eric's band practices each and every Tuesday. Mainly, this is the time when they learn new songs, but they will often have potential clients, who may have heard of them through word of mouth or the internet, come out to watch them...an audition, if you will.

Now, to back up a bit further, several of the band members have children, but two of the band members have children together. For them, babysitting can sometimes be an issue and on this night in particular, their regular sitter cancelled and rather force the band to cancel the audition I agreed to babysit their three kids.

So, for a few hours in the evening, I will have one-seven-year old, two 5-years-olds, one 3-year-old and an 21-month old. Its probably nobody's idea of a good time, but sacrifices must be made....


I just want to put it out there, that I like the two band members in question, I really do. (And no, they don't read this blog, so I'm not just saying that). But, things started out poorly when, mere seconds after coming inside, the 7-year-old...who I will call Angel...and is beyond precocious and speaks and acts like the snarky teenager of our collective nightmares, marches up to Kieran, and confronts him with something along the lines of "you have a baby hand and a regular hand and that's weird." She doesn't say it with any type of innocent curiosity, it is definitely an accusation and Kieran, who has in no way mastered the art of the witty (ok, any) comeback, stares at her blankly. Her mother on the other hand, scolds Angel  loudly giving the usual "we are all different and special in our own way" speech and puts her in a time out. Now, we already do have a relatively thick skin in terms of Kieran's hand (and he appears to as well) and kids are kids...so we move on.

Now, they are getting ready to head out, and amid the profuse apologies for even having to ask me to babysit at all, they say they will come back after the audition and not stay to practice.  Angel, who is quite used to babysitters so I'm surprised is not more laid back, suddenly says with snark that I didn't realize children could possess barks: "I'm not staying HERE. They have no TOYS." Which is shocking since we are quite overrun with toys, I believe, but again perhaps more of the 5-year-old boy variety.

I fear this is not going to go well.

Meanwhile, the other 4 are already off elsewhere playing with our many, many toys. So I put on a movie for Angel and she is, briefly,  appeased.

Now I am alone, and it takes me a few minutes to remember that an 21-month-old is loose in my no longer baby-proofed house. I locate her in the bathroom where she is pantless and licking (or possibly chewing) my deodorant. I start moving things up a bit higher, but now the other 4 are engaged in some loud-getting-louder-oh-now-they-are-crying-argument about something that requires parental intervention.

And so it goes...for hours and hours, the baby got into everything and anything. Dishwasher cubes? check. Floor cleaner? Check. Bandaids...do you know any 21 month old who can get them out of the wrappers in mere seconds...I do. Cat food? Yummy. Cat water...all over the floor, following by a succession of at least three kids wiping out (It's Home Alone 5!!)all of the place. Now, I can HEAR you all saying...Lady, this is what kids DO. But really, she went from one thing to another with lightning speed like a pint sized tornado. Honestly, I was thinking afterward that I was going to have to call FEMA or the Red Cross for aid.

Now, where was I? The baby is soaked from the cat water, and oh...did I mention she was having some sort of diarrhea issues? No? She was. And since she wanted to sit on the potty every 17 seconds I had just left her pants off, and now that her shirt is drenched, I go to find her new clothes and a diaper. Enroute, I am waylaid by the 5-year-old (not mine) asking if he can play with the Lego in Kieran's room. I say: "Sure! Lego! What I good idea." And off he goes. He's a good boy.

A few minutes go by and I'm attempting to wrangle an uncooperative baby into clean clothes and Kieran comes wailing out of his room.

"Mom, why did you say Jack could play with the Lego?" he sobs. Turns out Jack had been eyeing a trio of previously constructed Lego vehicles (jet plane, racecar, helicopter) that Eric had painstakingly made with Kieran last Christmas and have been sitting on a  shelf on display ever since. Kieran likes to show these creations to guests;  breathless and telling them not to touch. Now well, there are many Lego blocks on the floor.  Crap. So now I'm trying to salvage what I can of Kieran's jet plane before I remember the half dressed, diarrhea baby I left roaming around the house. I locate her in the kitchen with a tube of toothpaste, mere moments before it was going to be wiped on the cat who I toss outside hissing: "Wesley, I'm a goner, but save yourself!"


Now is well after 10 pm, and I am beginning to realize realize that perhaps I have been misled to how long this babysitting gig is going to run. So I figure it's time to at least get my own kids to bed, if possible. Luckily, all the kids seem to think this in a good idea, but of course, we don't have enough beds for all 5 kids so four of them head onto Kieran's bunkbeds. (Kaya, who was totally disinterested in all the other shenanigans going on in the house and just happy to be enjoying an evening under the radar, was happy to climb into our  bed with her CD Player). Kieran gets into his bottom bunk and the older two get up onto the top bunk where they immediately start throwing things off. A tossed book whacks me on the cheek and the giant dog that Kieran got from Eric's parents and which is not only huge, but sawdust heavy, comes rolling off the top bunk like a dead body, landing right on the baby's head and flattens her to the floor like Wile E Coyote.

We are now all crying.

Finally, the band arrives back at around midnight. There are zero kids sleeping and I have had 3.5 solid hours of what can sans exaggeration, only be described as hell on earth.

As they are all packing up (didn't take long, I had all the bags and backups packed a waiting by the door),  Angel, as a nightcap, kicks a soccer ball at the wall right into two professionally framed portraits of the kids. The portraits were unharmed...but the night ended the way it had began, with profuse, embarrassed apologies and a time out.

When they all finally left I collapsed on the couch. It's 12:15 am.

"Happy Birthday!" says Eric. And then he made me a BLT.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Back by Popular Demand!

OK, well maybe not POPULAR demand. But I'm back by request! 

Can I wrap up almost a year of events into a single paragraph from where I left off just before Christmas 2011? The spa I ranted about back in my last post is now closed. Quel surprise. Christmas good. Kaya turned 3. Kieran turned 5. Junior Kindergarten ended on a high nutrition note and all was good. Summer good. Gee, with high points like that, you can see why I haven't blogged in awhile.

It's not like I don't live a life of bloggable moments, because God knows I do. It's just putting fingers to the keyboard that appears to be the problem.

However, there is one thing that is still annoying me three weeks out (and if you know me in person, it's highly likely that I have ranted about this already) but I just want to take a moment to throw this nugget into cyerspace...

Screw you Air Canada.

You are the only airline that I can think of that when assigning seats to a lone adult who is standing right in front of you, holding a three year old, scolding a five year old for trying to sit on the rolling suitcase conveyor belt, with a luggage cart laden with three suitcases, 4 carry ons (all which will, or course, be carried on by me) and a car seat, that would hand me three boarding passes where none of use are seated anywhere near each other. Now, don't get me wrong...as enticing as not sitting with my children would be, it reeks of poor customer service. Especially since I didn't even have a chance to glance at our seat assignments until, after I had finally got us all through security, put my belt back on, carried the three year old and four carry ons to the gate, unloaded the crayons and snacks and got us all settled before I happened to notice that we were seated randomly throughout the plane. And this was at 6:30 am well prior to having ingested any coffee.

Pissed does NOT describe how I felt at that moment.

I stormed up to the first Air Canada employee I could find who, since she was not actually working on my flight, couldn't do anything. Then over the loudspeaker I hear that they have changed our gate (of course) and we have to pack up and move to a totally different area downstairs. In the end, I did manage to get the two kids together and I was in the row in front of them but, sweet mother, was I mad.

Anyway, feel free to log on and defend Air Canada and tell me that I brought this on myself by not anticipating their stupidity or whatever. It just didn't cross my mind that even assuming there were only single seats left when we checked in two hours early, that the woman at the counter wouldn't mention that she couldn't seat us together and that I would have to talk to the agent at the gate. Do they think that is appropriate to seat toddlers 9 rows behind their mother these days? I see the answer is yes.

On the way home I made sure that we were seated together prior to leaving for the airport, so yes, a lesson was learned about the value of online check in and I felt like a bit of better parent at that point. Well, that is until Kaya pointed out, after I scooted her into the bathroom - 20 minutes after we had been there already -  and left Kieran with all our bags doing his Spiderman dot to dot in the security lounge, that "Mommies shouldn't leave their kids all alone while they take other kids to the bafroom." Honest to God that is a true story. I was a bit shocked that she would even have been aware of my parental transgression, let alone call me on it. I guess I shouldn't have left him, but he was 10 feet (15 max) from the bathroom door and this was in the security lounge in Thunder Bay, not Frankfurt. It is really just a big quiet room with no exit. I had thought about packing us all up to stand in the can to watch Kaya pee for the third time in a hour, but it felt overprotective and Kieran didn't want to come and I knew if we all left that we would lose our seats. Jesus Kaya, get off my back.

Next year...we drive.