The battery saga continues...

So -- if you didn't read it, my son ate a battery.  That's right...he ate a battery.  You can read the story behind this whole thing here, but I will go on with the current situation.

We are now almost 1 week to the hour (in a few hours) of "the incident" and there is still no sign of this stinkin' thing (no pun intended).  I have been searching poopy diapers for what seems like an eternity.

Perhaps I've missed it.  Perhaps that silly button battery (which was the size of a tablet of asprin) made it's way out the back door incognito.  Who knows?  The only way to find out for sure is to do another xray (or ultrasound).

The saddest part of this whole thing??  My little guy is slightly lactose intolerant...too much milk will give him the runs.  So, as a wonderful mother, what have I been doing?  Giving him milk to drink, yogurt for a snack and cereal for breakfasts....every day.  Do you know what lactose intolerant poops smell like??  *shudder*  This is some scary stuff...I deserve a medal for it...but have I gotten it yet?? Nope, the little award has either decided to camp out in his intestines for a bit, or has sneakily made it past my best efforts to spot him.  Damn 007 battery!

Anyhow -- the phone rang today (during nap time...eye twitch!!) -- and who was it??  The Poison Control Center...calling to see if I've spotted it!  I tell them (and even admitted to the extra milk thing) -- he laughs and says, "yeah, well...batteries have been known to take as long as 14 days to pass"

You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me. --- fourteen days?!?!

How is that even possible?  How can someone have something in their intestines for that long without it moving along with the rest of the...uh...stuff???  This kid has been having 2 movements a day, and I'm supposed to wait until day 14??  Insane!

Anyhow -- that's it for now.  Should it show...I'll let you all know (cause I know you're all as anxious as I am!)

More Unhappy Moms

So, I've just replied on a post that I made a while back.  It gets quite a few hits (upwards of 50/day -- which I think is a lot considering that people are googling "unhappy mother" to get to it) You can read the original post here.

I quickly realized that my latest reply should be a post in and of itself.  You see -- there are all these women out there (and even a young girl who searched for "Why is my mother unhappy") -- I think that we all need to realize that motherhood does not equate instant happiness.

Here is my reply to a response to that original posting:

First of all, thank YOU for being brave enough to comment...I get a LOT of hits on this page, and it's the rare person who comments.

I think that there are a lot of mothers out there with these same feelings -- we love our children, we really do, but it can seem as though something's missing. I hadn't been able to put a finger on it until I started blogging...what's missing is knowing that it's NORMAL to feel this way. You hear me? N-O-R-M-A-L

Ironically, I'm also very introverted. It will take a lot to get me to open up in public unless I'm very comfortable with the people I'm around. That's slowly changing with wisdom (or is it just age??) Everyone else was so into things that I'm not. Throwing lavish b-day parties for my kids, caring about the clothes that I wear, or the house I live in or the car I drive.

I mean...really...WHO FRIGGEN CARES???

I don't care. I don't care if they like me...quite frankly, I don't care if YOU like me (no offense meant)...I'm tired of being someone else to please everyone else...and really, when you're trying to be a "happy mother" who are you trying to please; you or society?

In deciding to start caring about myself, I found something -- I like me...I may not like my faults, but they are part of me, and I LIKE ME. I am not happy all day long, I'm not always nice, I'm not the most popular person out there...but guess what...I'm happy now.

I think that the saddest thing about all of this is that it's taken me more than 30 years to come to this realization.  I do not need to change who I am for other people to like me.  It's okay for other people to not like me.  Even more - I'm okay with the fact that other people don't like me!  For as long as I can remember, I would go around and be different "hethrs" for different people.  There was the funny hethr, the cool hethr, the smart hethr, the tomboy hethr, the hethr who liked to party...etc... But none of those hethrs were me.

I am me.  I like me, warts and all.  That's what matters.

A look back at 2009

So, I decided that I should look back at this year. A reminder of all of the good as well as all of the bad.

First there was school. Though I technically started in the Fall of 2008, it was about this time of year that I got my official marks. I'm a keener, an over-achiever and very likely the most competitive person that you know. My biggest fear was failure. I was, after all, a high school drop out. I am happy, and yes, very proud, to admit (= brag) that I have a GPA of 4.0. Can't get better than that!

Then there's family. My baby turned one, began walking and talking. 2 of my 3 children are off at school (and are competitive keeners like me!). My husband was promoted. The relationship between my stepson and I deteriorated. Stepson left the house, sick of our rules. Though we see him every so often, the relationship between us all (with the exception of Stepson and Baby) is very, very strained. One day, he will see the reasons behind everything, but until then, we live as the evil, unrelenting parents.

There was the walk for Cancer. I walked all night. It was tiring, and by the time the sun rose and the closing ceremony was finished, I was emotionally and physically exhausted. But even though there were so many of my family members lost to Cancer, it was surprisingly cheerful. The time spent with my Aunt, Mother and cousins was important to me. I'm glad I did it.

I learned to knit. To some, this is an "old lady" thing, but I don't care. Knitting was something that my grandmother did, and I always wanted to learn. She died when I was in grade 6. The yearly gifts of slippers and scarves came to an end. No one picked up those needles to carry on her tradition. Years have gone by and I learned how to knit. Months of searching the internet for patterns finally yielded a pattern as close to grandma's that I could find. Slippers soon came. My family all have matching slippers - some better than others as I tweaked the pattern to my liking. I know that my husband thinks that I'm nuts. I've had many people say to me "why don't you just buy them from the dollar store". But, what they don't understand is that I feel connected to her again...I envision her in my mind...rocking in her chair, her knitting basket next to her as she watched Coronation Street and pretended to listen to my grandfather's ramblings. I miss her terribly, and it's my way to remember.

I got a new cat. Well, some would call him a mountain lion, but he's a giant, lovable fur-ball. Alviss appeared on my friend's Facebook page...needing a home. I helped out. Little did I know that the picture of the gray ball of fluff would turn out to be a 20lb cat! He's huge. He's beautiful. He's cuddly. What more can I ask for?? (okay, he could shed a little less, but beggars can't be choosers, can they?)

I had the most horrible daycare experience ever. A family who was here wasn't happy that I had terminated care. The child was fabulous, the mother was fabulous, the father....an Ass. They were happy with everything, but when I could no longer put up with the father's BS, I terminated care. They, after having had their daughter in care for over a year, accused me of neglect, claimed my home was filthy and, in general, did their best to bring me down. One thing about always doing the right thing, you know that the truth will prevail, but while the truth is busy being detected by child welfare and all the other crap that goes around that....it's stressful. I am still very bitter and very resentful of that whole situation. I genuinely love and care for all the children that are in my Daycare, and their false accusations have left scars.

I had a visit from the very first child ever to be in my dayhome! Funny, how you don't expect these children to age. Wonderful that he jumped out of that van, shouted "Heather!!" and ran to give me a huge bear hug (he's now almost as tall as I am). Sad that he had to leave.

I got a new family in dayhome. They are wonderful. They are fun, sarcastic, witty and real. I am very grateful that they came. Really good dayhome families are a rare gem. This is one of them. I also have a very good friend bringing her child to my dayhome. The fact that we are able to keep our business and friendship as two separate entities is amazing.

Fond memories were made. A rainy holiday in Drumheller. A town full of churches. A visit to Heritage Days and being trapped in a rainstorm. That is one that I never wrote about. The downpour that we went through, arriving to our car dripping as if we'd gone fully clothed into a swimming pool only to have the rain stop minutes after getting inside. It was at first, irritating, quickly overwhelming and soon hilarious. I came home that day to blog about it (once I had dried off and warmed up) only to discover that there was a woman who had died in that very same storm while at the Big Valley Jamboree. Suddenly, it wasn't something to write about.

There were the fun times the kids had with their grandmother. There were all of the great things that my daycare children have said. There were the debates with friends, and a few with strangers. Though I started this blog as a way of putting down the odd and silly thoughts that run through my head, mostly for the amusement of my friends and family to read -- I have come to the realization that there are people from all over the globe (well, so far, just North America) coming here searching for advice, or maybe just confirmation of their innermost feelings.

Everything is a lesson. Best wishes to you and yours, my readers, for a happy 2010!

Is it all in the name??

So, I recently got into a bit of an argument with someone. I stated that I prefer to be called a Child Care Provider rather than a babysitter. She called this elitist and said that the political correctness of today's society makes people label and judge one another.

Hmm....it seems we have always labeled one another; Mechanic, Doctor, Teacher. Those are all labels. But let's get down to the heart of this. She could not see that there is a difference between a babysitter and a child care provider. She said that they both offer the same service and that by saying that I was not a babysitter, I was disrespectful to those who are.

Perhaps she's right. I don't think so, but that may be my elitist attitude showing through.

Here's how I look at it.

I am a Child Care Provider. This is not a job for me, it is a profession. I have taken studies to enhance the lives of the children that I care for, everything from program planning to childhood development. I provide care for other people's children in my home. I plan out a curriculum, write newsletters, and ensure learning in every moment. I cook meals for them, I teach them everything from potty training and colors, to manners and life skills. I love them and care for them like my own children. Day in and day out.

I used to babysit. On rare occasions, I would go into someone's home to watch their child (or children) for a few short hours. I did this for extra cash. What is involved? Playing a game, watching some tv and going to bed. That's it. Oh I know that there are a lot of babysitters who do a lot more than this, but I have yet to find one.

There is a difference to me. One is a profession, while the other is an occasional job taken for some extra cash. One requires education (which, by the way, more than qualifies me to be a teacher's aide), while the other only requires a bare minimum in safety standards.

To me this is like comparing a chef in a restaurant to a cook at McDonald's. Oh, by the way, when I made that argument, she implied that those two are the same thing too! Good God, if I found out that my stepson was cooking in a restaurant, I'd warn people to stay away! He's great at flipping those burgers, but I'm not sure that he's qualified to make french fries, let alone cook a meal!

Then, this woman attempted to say that by calling myself a Child Care Provider, it was a way to make caring for children into a "business". I have to say, I am so greatly offended by this that I still haven't bothered to comment on it. It is very sad for me to say that the money that you pay to your Friday night Babysitter is more money than I make. I recently learned (while looking for a sitter for my kids) that the going rate for a baby sitter is $10-15/hour....If I work out my monthly wage by the hours that I work, I end up getting a shocking $4.49 for every hour worked (before taxes). That's fabulous. I also get no benefits (like health/dental) and there is no such thing as "sick days" for me. If I take a day off for illness or holidays, I, quite literally, pay for it.

No, I'm not in this for the money. I do it because I love the children. I love them as if they are my own. I miss them on weekends, I cry when it's time for them to move on. I still keep in touch with many of them. They are my extended family.

I don't work for the all mighty dollar, instead, I work for the little heart-felt hugs that I get. The smiles in the morning, the cuddles in the afternoon. The laughter in the park, or the tears over a skinned knee.

A baby sitter I am not and do not want to be. To me, there is a difference, and I am proud to be able to say that I am a Child Care Provider!

Vacation

So, this week I went on vacation with my children....and my husband. What a joyful experience to drive for 4 hours with three children. Thank God for our DVD system in the car! I remember driving in the car on long trips with my own family. Yes, we played the games that all the children played back then....things like "I spy" and "ABC signs" and so on. But we also played "Pinch your brother" and "Poke your sister". Parents would also get in on the action with the "Don't make me pull over..." and the ever so popular "over the seat backwards arm swat that usually hit everyone but the intended target".

Lets just say that Alberta doesn't necessarily have the most fantastic scenery....at least not along the route that we were taking. We saw canola, then we saw wheat, then we saw barley. Oooohh, aaaaahhh.

So, the kids watched movies or played their gameboys. Oh, right, as dayhome boy reminds me every time I make the mistake of saying gameboy, "it's a DS, not a gameboy." I know it kid, I really do, but I'm OLD, and I revert to calling things what they were when I was a kid. I now understand why grandma always said "britches".

Anyhow, we finally get to our destination, Three Hills. Not a big place by any stretch of the imagination, but nice. According to the information booklet in our hotel room, the population there was just over 3, 400. They have TWELVE churches....for 3000 people. Just in case you don't know, I'm Muslim....and I wear a head-scarf. Let's just say that I felt a little like a carrot that managed to find it's way into a bowl of peas.

We got there on a Sunday evening. After a long, hot drive, we were looking for someplace to eat. There was the Mission Restaurant (which we later found out had been "closed until further notice" back in May), there was an Italian place (closed Sundays) a Greek place (closed Sundays) and a restaurant that "specialized in Italian and Chinese Buffets" (cause that's always a great combo). The name of this place was E&W Buffet. When your restaurant spells "ew", it's not a place I want to go. It was closed anyhow. It was Sunday!

We finally find out that there's a pizza hut, as well as an A&W, both were in the same food court (which consisted of Pizza Hut, A&W, and a slush machine). I walked into A&W and the restaurant literally fell silent. I've never experienced that before....like in a movie, when a character says something spectacular and private, and the whole restaurant stops. But, we ate our burgers and fries, took the kids out to a field to run around and then went back to our hotel.

The next day, we drove down to Drumheller. We went to the Royal Tyrrell Museum (which is really amazing). Baby (and actually, I should change that to Toddler now) screamed the whole time through. Well, not the whole time, because there were moments when he had to stop to take a breath. Daughter and Son quickly glanced at the dinosaurs and did the obligatory "wow" and moved on to the next item. Husband, however, sauntered through the place and read every last bit and piece of info on any little tag that was there. I'm sure that at this point, he could have an honorary degree in paleontology.

After the morning in the museum, we decided to spend the afternoon someplace cool and air conditioned. We went to Reptile World where the kids got to see lizards, snakes, and crocodiles. Still can't figure out why they had frogs and salamanders (amphibians) in a place called Reptile World, but that's neither here nor there. They got to hold a snake and that was cool enough for them. I had been to Reptile World when I was a child, and I remember it as being the coolest place with animals of all kinds. To go back to the same place 20 years later is a little disappointing. Quite frankly, I look at the cost we spent to get in ($25 for the family) and I see the cages, the pathetic decor and I think, "I paid $25 for this?" But again, the kids really enjoyed it.

After these two places, there really wasn't a heck of a lot to do out there. Not anything that's not screaming "tourists, come and spend obscene amounts of money on pathetic attractions here". After a long, hot day out in the sun, I was looking forward to getting a cool and creamy Iced Cap from Tim Horton's. Neither Drumheller nor Three Hills has one! Sacrilege, I tell you!!!

After an hour long drive back to Three Hills, we went for a walk (and found out that the Mission restaurant was closed) and managed to find a Subway. Mmmm...Subway sandwiches. Toddler managed to throw a fit there too. Tossing his food on the floor, squeezing his juice out of the box, and being....well, a toddler! We went back to the hotel, put the kids to bed and hoped for a better day...

We had planned for the next day in Drumheller to be our "out door" activity day. We woke up to rain, and heard on the morning news that there would be scattered showers in the morning and sunny in the afternoon. We thought that would have been perfect, as it would be cool in the afternoon then.

After another morning of the continental breakfast at the hotel (which was a good breakfast), trying to scarf down food while chasing after a toddler who's biggest thrill is the giant automatic doors...we get in the car and head back to Drumheller. Problem #1, the rain did NOT stop. Probelm #2, the rain got really heavy. Big, fat, giant raindrops.

Well, we'll tour in the rain, that's fine, right? Problem #3, the Hoo Doo's, by their very nature, are slowly eroding. Rain helps that. When it rains, the Hoo Doo's are closed, you cannot walk through on the paths. They are like a sugar candy on a cake....look hard and sturdy, but touch your tongue to it, and you can feel it disolve. So, item number one on the itinerary was cancelled.

So were other ideas of taking a hike along the many walking/hiking paths. Instead, we drove. They have 2 "loops" that you can drive. We did both. We saw canyons and old mines. We walked on a suspension bridge (in the rain). We saw more canola, wheat and barley, too! There were some cool, old-style wooden bridges on one of the tours...that was kinda intersting. The kids? Oh, they didn't notice. They had long since been watching Shrek and only looked up to say "I'm hungry" or "are we there yet?"

That night, we went to a place in Three Hills called Athens. It's a Greek restuarant (duh), but the food was fan-freaking-tastic. Don't let the measly little front entrance of this place fool you. It was amazing.

That's it. I'm tired, but I've got another story about what happened today brewing in my head...gotta plan it out so that you stay interseted!!

Yo Gabba What??

I'm not sure how long Yo Gabba Gabba has been on the air. What I do know is that I caught a bit of it a few months back...people, it has haunted me ever since. It is a show where you've got this much too happy guy, aka DJ Lance Rock. He carries around a wonderful boom box that houses his little "friends".

Personally, I think that this show was created while a bunch of someone's were smoking some pretty strong stuff. DJ Lance hops around in his 70's flashback jogging suit. He carries around these "friends", who, if you ask me are a little on the creepy side. Just look at that big red dude...doesn't he remind you of something that you found long ago hidden in your mom's bedside drawer??

The show goes on, with the characters singing songs like "We are the germs that make you sick" or "Try it, and you'll like it"

Creepy. That's the only word that I can describe for this show.

So...could someone please tell me why, in the name of God do the children enjoy it so much??

Thoughts and Comments

Well, I didn't realize what a pot of emotions I would stir by telling the world of my...err...shall we say "troubles" with step son. Let's just say that I've received a lot of feedback through private emails -- some messages offering encouragement, some filled with humor, and even a few filled with fear for their soon-to-be teens....but the ones that tugged at my heart the most were the messages filled with despair and lost hope.

Let me say this - DO NOT GIVE UP.

Teenagers are a finicky bunch. Too old to be a child, but too young to be an adult. They are stuck in a life of awkwardness, misunderstandings and backstabbing. They turn on one another as quickly as they turn their backs on you. As a parent, you are the ultimate "uncool" thing around.

Here's a newsflash for all you teens out there (or, at least my Stepson and future teens)....I am not here to be your friend. Moreover, I do not care if you think I'm cool.

It surprises me the number of people who want to be friends with their kids. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I don't want to be on friendly terms with my kids, that's far from it. I want my kids to trust me, I'd like for them to confide in me, but they also have to know that I am their mother. You'd better believe that I'll give them hell if they deserve it. I will embarrass, I will punish, I will take away privileges -- and I will not be ashamed to do so.

The thing is, they are looking for love and acceptance, and as a parent, that's the best we can give -- however, this love and acceptance that they're seeking isn't from us. This, I think, is another mistake that many parents make. Believe me when I say that I love and accept my step son. The kid has sure given me a hard time, but I still love him! The point is, they are looking for this love and acceptance from their peers....even the popular kids are worried about it. We all went through teenage-hood...why are we so quick to forget??

I guess that what I'm saying is don't let your kids drag you down. Pick your fights...let some of their moodiness pass as if it didn't even exist. They will eventually out grow it.

In saving the best for last, this is a tidbit of one of the messages that I got in the last 24 hours...boy, did this ever resonate with me: "Try to keep in mind that the person they are at this age usually has nothing in common with the adult they will become!"