• I have devilishly mischievous moments of evil intent. For example, my husband was speaking to me about nothing in particular and I was listening intently when suddenly into my head popped a thought – “I could reach out right now and sucker punch you right in the face.” There was no reason for the thought, but it made me laugh. Please note that I did not act on the impulse.
• I have taken several major life leaps (ie. Take a flying leap off the cliff) and risks that appealed to me – like starting 2 business’, shopping for first home while husband was chronically sick, etc – and, with some positive vibes and inspiration, everything will work out in the end. You have to trust that you are exactly where you should be. A little devil-may-care or a sound life philosophy?
• I like green. I’m currently writing this blog entry while sitting on my apple green couch, wearing my lime green t-shirt, etc. It’s not an overwhelming colour in my life but it does consistently wind its’ way into it.

• I like a good joke (practical or spoken) as much as the rest of them. (See blog entry March 28/08) In fact, I can clearly remember relishing the times spent with my extended family (paternal) as they were all great jokesters and I found great glee when I began to express my own inner comedienne.
• Short pants and a pipe…I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.

On days when your emotions are bigger than your body – what do you do? Does parenting life allow for a “mental health day”? (I heard your sarcastic guffaw over there). Parenting doesn’t permit the more common “sick day”, let alone a I-need-a-moment-alone-before-I-completely-freak-out. So what do you do?

There are a thousand reasons for an I’m-going-to-lose-it days: no sleep, unreasonable demands from your child(ren), the dog vomit at the bottom of the steps that you didn’t see when you were going downstairs in the middle of the night to get an advil for the splitting headache that woke you up, the spaced-out demeanor of your pre-schooler while you ask over and over again for simple tasks like “open the door” to be complete while you are all standing in front of it to go out to the car for school. Honestly, we would still be standing at the door waiting for it to open itself if I hadn’t finally got to the point of “honey, push the handle!!! Push the handle!!! Push the handle!!!” In short, there is a whole series of little irritations that lead to your fast-paced call to your husband after you’ve dropped off the kid to tear a strip off him for absolutely nothing – you simply needed an outlet to vent off some of the pressure that was building in your head!! Poor man. Poor, poor man.

Here’s the “it” moment though – in mid-rant to my targetted spouse I had a moment of clarity. This was not about him and the fact that he had not left the five-dollar bill on my purse like I was hoping he would (this is what I was ranting about) because he did not read my mind last night when I thought to myself “I need that fiver for the morning for a coffee”. So when I called him after walking away from the vomit rug, dropping off the dopey preschooler and scrounging under the floor mat for change for coffee, he had no idea what the hell was wrong with me, what he’d done to contribute to it and what to even say! This was not fair to him – honey, I am sincerely sorry. My moment of clarity as I was working myself up to a fevered pitch in my tirade was this – my emotions are bigger than my body. Simply put, I was over reacting to most everything and it didn’t make sense, nor, did it feel good. Was I PMSing? Was I simply needing the sleep that I’d missed? Was I in need of a quiet morning to regroup and refresh without stressful demands and frustrating life events? Yes to all of the above. We’ve heard it before but we often ignore it so I’ll say it again. Only you know best what it is that you need. People can not help you if you yourself don’t know what it is that you need. Whether you can see clearly what your own thoughts and behaviours are telling you depends on how willing you are to listen and put that attentiveness to regular practice. You will be a happier, less stressed, person for doing so and, in turn, your family will not feel those stresses piled onto their own stressed out shoulders. In theory, when each family member puts this into practice (ie. Hubby, don’t dump your junk on me either) then your family takes a collective breath, relaxes their shoulders and better supports one another through the hard moments. Referring back to my telephone tirade with my husband who was in the process of talking faster and getting more and more stressed out by my overloading rant, as soon my overhead light bulb clicked on and I said to him “you know what!? I’m stressed and I’m certain it is all because I’m tired and PMSing so please don’t take any of this to heart, just let me vent” then I actually heard him sigh and take a moment to digest that. And then he said exactly what I needed to hear “Babe, you’re going to be alright. Try and put this stuff out of your head and go get yourself a nice coffee”. My rant did an immediate shift from I-want-to-kill-someone to I-could-burst-out-crying-right-now and it was all back in perspective again. At least one crazy had been replaced by another. My emotions were still bigger than my body but I was at least on my way to recovery, a tall latte and a much needed quiet morning. Cheers.

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Happy New Year Everyone! I have just climbed my way back onto the face of the earth. I was just minding my own business – about a month ago – and wham-o! I fell off! For years – nay, decades at least – scientists have been telling us that the world is round and safely traveling along its’ own orbit so you can imagine my surprise when I fell off!!

Have you ever been broad-sided by life? Completely knocked off your course and didn’t see it coming? If you’d asked me a month ago if I could see myself where I am today, only a few weeks in future, I’d have laughed and assumed that YOU were crazy but here I am. Life has taken a profound change in direction with a high, a low and a grand dose of sanity. Welcome to a fresh start in 2009.

Parents beware – you are people too, individuals with identities independent of your family, your children, your favourite TV Show – and if you ignore this fact for too long you might find yourself falling off the edge too. Have you had a life changing experience this year? Do you have a fresh start planned for the New Year? I’d like to kick off this year’s blog with your stories and an open discussion to be shared on Gingerbread Families – No Cookie Cutter Life! This is your invitation to join that forum and hear about my stories from the edge.

Which would you choose?
1) A good night’s sleep for 1 night

2) Dinner prepared - shopping, preparation and clean up - for 3 nights

Post your choice in comments below - I’m definitely curious…

Today, my DD - age 3 - was again helping me fold laundry. We had two basket-fuls splayed across the bed and one of our chihuahuas was sunk in a pillow watching our activity. Both DD & Dog have been slowly establishing a friendly relationship but it is still fraught with occasional turbulence - like DD bugging him while he sleeps and Dog barking at her to leave him alone. Well, despite this new-found camaraderie, DD still has urges to antagonize the dog and a sleeping dog sitting unawares while she is tossing about laundry - er, I mean folding laundry - is just too tempting. She threw a sock at the dog.

To Dog’s credit, he actually just opened his eyes and peered at her to ensure there was no further garments heading right at him. I remonstrated DD with a gentle “hey, treat Dog nicely, he’s not doing anything to bother you. Now, go get that sock and apologize”. DD moved tentatively toward Dog and was fully expecting him to lunge at her in retaliation - instead, he blinked and held her eye contact. DD moved ever so slightly closer and tried to figure out how she was going to retrieve the offensive sock that was draped just behind Dog on the pillow. Dog sighed. DD gingerly stretched out her hand to see if Dog might make a move but promptly withdrew it when Dog moved his tail an inch to the left. DD was nervous… She paused in contemplation then (get this) … begins to sing “lullabye, and good night…” I can’t believe that she came up with that idea. Sing the dog to sleep and then get the sock. Brilliance!

Metaphorically speaking, this is an invitation – listen closely and you’ll hear it…”Jump in, dear reader, jump in”. Children bring an exuberance to our lives that we often ignore. I’m guilty of enticing my daughter outside just this past weekend with intention to rake the leaves into a pile and snap photos of the resulting mayhem. But as I search about for the rake, I begin to collect the toys off the lawn and this leads to gathering up the bigger things for packing away for the season, which leads to sweeping off the deck because, hey – now it’s empty, and this leads to, at most, a push on the swing for my daughter…but no great big leaf pile to blow apart with glee because mommy got too distracted by all the things I-want-to-get-done. Moment lost. We came inside then because we were starting to feel chilly (we’d been outside awhile!) and no leaf pile has been built in or around our home. I feel a little tap on the shoulder from the Guilty-Mommy Fairy and could really work this one into a full self-flagellation. My inner therapist is hard at work to keep me from wandering this road again. I’ve been down it enough since giving birth.

With that said, I think there is merit in reminding ourselves that we do need to pause and really be in the moment. Yes, I have been unusually busy and having even 30 minutes outside to tidy up and prep for the cooler weeks ahead was nice BUT that was not the reason I went outside in the first place! My daughter was quite content to amuse herself and sing songs along with me while we both tottered about outside BUT she would have been over the moon to land kerplunk into a waist high pile of leaves. I believe I lost my ‘moment’ and I implore you to not do the same. It’s what life is made of, these moments that come to mind when we are reflecting on happy times with our kids. When we might have actually created a memory for them to reflect on of their own.

Life is like this – my inner therapist won out in convincing me to not spend gobs of energy in the self-loathing department and rather look for (or create) the next moment to remember. It came today with the washable markers and the bath-time approaching disbursement of clothes. Without great detail, we’ll suffice it to say that it is a hoot to draw happy faces where happy faces are not normally seen and then jump into a mile high bubble bath to wash it all off. Too fun! My daughter was giggling like crazy and so was I and it was not lost on me that she, in fact, jumped into a pile of something – even though it was bubbles…

There was a woman walking down the street, minding her own business and appearing to enjoy the view of a beautiful day and peaceful surroundings. She was moving along at a comfortable pace when her toe caught on something and she fell directly to the ground with no time even to break her fall. She skinned her chin and was splayed about across the ground for several moments before she actually realized what had happened – one moment she was moving along and enjoying the her life and the next she was bloodied and sore. I saw this woman fall – and in my own split second moment opted to join her on the ground rather than simply lend her a hand because I thought it was a rare opportunity to see the world from a different angle.

Dear reader, have you scrolled back and re-read that first paragraph wondering if you are over tired or, perhaps, inebriated? You have not lost your mind, it is gibberish but, I implore you to see the hidden message in it. It offers a means of finding joy in life when there may be times that it seems as though joy doesn’t exist – like when your toddler goes from content-normal to demon-aggressor while you wasted your time on a necessary blink, or when you can’t seem to recognize that you are happy in your home despite that fact that it is never clean!!!

Let’s look at the world from a different angle every now and then. I can remember clearly a day in which my then-toddler would not relent – she had to be on me, near me, of me for every-second-of-the-day and I needed to prepare her meal or visit the loo or – most likely – leave the room to stomp, kick and curse my way out of the frustration box that I found myself in!!! No matter how I reasoned – be it calmly one moment, through clenched teeth the next, or in an elevated tone of voice with waving arm accompaniment – she would not relent. Then I had a split second of wisdom (I was even shocked by this) that told me to simply sit still. Clearly nothing that I could do as a parent was going to push her through this cling-on day so I had to admit defeat, I mean, realize and accept that there could be worse curses to my day than to hold my child through the times that she needed that security. Perhaps, if I got down on the ground (see above gibberish) I could actually turn this into a ‘different angle’.

In that moment, life slowed down – as did my heart rate and stress – and I took it for what it was. Nothing else would get my attention – only this time it was by choice rather than by force. And you know what – that was ok. We spend our time giving supportive advice to our friends / family / shadow that we so rarely adhere to ourselves! Take it easy on yourself. When you find yourself in a series of dead-end, head-against-the-wall moments just stand still and ask yourself which will cost the bigger price – the ranting, raving and no-win or the roll with it and be-damned approach. Not easy to put into practice admittedly but you have to try – new ideas or ways of being can’t get through the door if you don’t open it first.

Next time you see someone fall to the ground - and these opportunities don’t happen often so grab it when it does! - why not lay yourself down and see the world from that angle. It’s an opportunity for a different view that you may never have had otherwise.

Let me know if you try it - either laying on the ground or, more practically simply stopping the rant and accepting – and what was the result. Good or bad, I want to hear it…post a comment below.

I hate cooking - truly, hate cooking. I cook out of necessity and not for joy. I cook because my daughter is hungry. I cook because it’s a hard task to ignore.

In my previous life - otherwise known as pre-child days - I could get away with a lovely take out, or a make-it-yourself attitude. My husband often obliged because he prefers his meal to be edible. His own family were quite at ease in the kitchen - creating, with ease, simple and tasty masterpieces that would amuse his senses. I am not of his family. For almost 20 years his mother has been supportive and enthusiastically advising me of culinary creations and for almost 20 years, it has been going in one ear and out the other (sorry Marlene).

In truth, my disinterest in cooking stems from a life-long lack of kitchen confidence. My own mother was a “chef” (definition of chef = can make a lump of stale bread into a steaming and delectable casserole) and I could not EVER compare. My own bumblings would pale next to hers and her discreet and kind pieces of advice and direction, to me, only pointed out my shortcomings. I’ll see a therapist some day.

Now, in having a child who requires nourishment - I have become an avid recipe collector. I may or may not do anything with the recipe once I’ve collected it - but the option is there. I do enjoy taking an interest in recipes whereas I used to rifle past them and only note the picture. Now, I might pause - review the “Time to Prepare” and scan the ingredients list. If the “Time to Prepare” exceeds 30 minutes - my attention is already lost. If it meets my attention deficit, then the ingredients list is the next thing - all items must be familiar to a commoner like me. If there is an ingredient list that I must google to identify - that recipe is NOT being torn from it’s current housing.

My pile of recipes grows each month - there is no rhyme nor reason for it - simply a pile that boasts only the accolade that it is “Recipes”. Not “Main Dish”, not “Fun For Kids” - just “Recipes”. Once a month, I’ll sit on the floor with my pile and flip through it like a deck of cards - pulling out a dozen that look appealing for that season, that meal or, frankly, my mood. From that dozen-or-so, I put one or two on the fridge for the week - setting my chef-goal at the “try-this-one-out” level. A goal, I’m proud to say, that is often reached. One or two recipes is not too intimidating and having already screened these offerings for “Time to Prepare” and “Familiar Ingredients” factors, they are approachable and safe for me. Life is a lot easier - I don’t beat myself about the head with shame - for not creating meals or, if created, not presenting meals that are edible without wincing. In fact, my husband has become an active player in this adventure - engaging in dialogue throughout the meal regarding that recipes attributes or deficits. He has learned, good man, to phrase the deficits in a kind and supportive manner -

Husband: “Honey, what do you think of this recipe? Are you enjoying it too?”
Me: “Well, for a first run, I find it a bit bland. I think next time I’d jazz it up with some more seasonings etc”
Husband: “I agree - it’s a good foundation, but would definitely benefit from some of your famous TLC”

Overall, a conversation that is well-phrased and does not invite a launch from my seat to tear off his face and then slap him with it.

I am very pleased to feed my daughter - whether she eats it or not is another post - because I do believe that nurturing your children includes the food you feed them. I want her to enjoy her meals - for the company as much as for the quality - and be physically healthy and happy. I will continue my pattern of recipe collection on her behalf and face my kitchen demons silently inside my head. Both my therapist in future and my MIL will be happy.

On a side note, I do enjoy a good egg-on-the-face gag as well as anyone even when the face dripping the egg is my own and the origin of the gag is my also mine. Therefore, I must admit that the event that precipitated this post topic is, in fact, taken from my own life last night – because I believe that I’ve reached a never-to-be-repeated low causing both embarrassment, as well as, gagging. I was shocked and appalled to realize I was seated across from my hubby at the dinner table last night while he munched…tater tots and tuna. In all honesty, I have to seriously review the evening to trace the path that led to such an atrocious meal. Can you call it a meal? Please consider in my explanation 4 facts – after-school swim lessons, my hubby’s birthday-the-next-day-shopping-to-do, an empty pantry (I have no idea where the tater tots in the freezer came from because I’ve never purchased them???) and a sense of deep exhaustion. The tater tots were my first effort to create a “Brunch-like” dinner – omelets, tots and crusty loaf but I had to run out of the house to get the birthday shopping done while the tots were toasting. By the time I returned from the speed shopping, I could care less about creating an omelet and opted to ignore the tots entirely. Did I mention that my stomach was in knots? A possible oncoming flu?

So I browse my empty pantry and thank my stars for the foresight I had last week in purchasing that can of tuna – for no reason other than “it can’t hurt to have a spare can of tuna” and I decide to make a toasted tuna sandwich. Did I mention exhaustion? Mid way into opening the tin, my energy drained out through my feet and took what little appetite along with it so I left the tuna half-prepared on the counter and walked away. Being as I’d fed my daughter when we arrived home from swimming – an appropriate and well-rounded meal I might add – and I assumed and/or trusted that my husband could fend for himself to find something, I opted to forget a meal for myself and trust that my appetite would bring me downstairs for a late-night bowl of cereal in a couple hours. Don’t worry, I checked to ensure there was milk in the fridge. So…I’m not eating but I sit down at the table with my hubby who has scrounged something onto a plate. I come out of my lethargy long enough to focus on his selection…cold tots, half-prepared tuna and a slice of crusted toast. Now that, good people, is fecking awful.

In times when there is no dignity, laughter can often be heard…

Hey, if you feel up to it…send me a recipe you like, I’d love to try it - or, perhaps, you’ve your own dinner disaster - blogentry@gingerbreadlane.ca

I feel as though I’ll fit right in. Running about like a maniac – last minutes costume touches, groceries for the night, party supplies prepared at-the-ready (work requirement), laundry so there is clean gitch to even put on under the costume, tidying the front foyer for those intrusive neighbours who step-inside-for-candy, etc, etc has me wishing to clutch my hair in both hands at the root and run hell-bent down the street while screaming and/or drooling with a glazed non-sugar-induced look in my eye! People, I hope, will just assume I’m putting on a show for Halloween night and not be fully aware that I have, in fact, lost my mind…

Happy Halloween everyone.

Knock, knock…
Who’s there?
Banana…

Some of the happiest and most memorable times I’ve spent with my daughter are those in which we’ve been laughing – over the crazy, little, silly things that fill up our day – like, bum quacks and pizza beards. I grew up in a family in which my father’s side of the family were all jokesters – loving a good egg-on-the-face, twist-of-the-words laugh and I hold many fond memories of get-togethers with them. I also remember reaching an age in which I not only laughed at their quips but began to experiment with throwing a few of my own back at them and receiving a laugh in return. I was so happy and proud of myself for causing a laugh!!

This joviality only grew as I did and I learned to enjoy spreading a laugh to my friends, to my teachers and, truthfully, for myself. The world seemed a lighter place if I could find the humour in it. This foundation served me very well when, as a young adult, I entered into the field of Child & Youth Work – working directly with some very behaviourally challenging teens. When there were many an escalating situation, there were times that I could successfully diffuse it with a fun retort or observation. I’m also certain that humour is a large part of why my husband married me – I’ll let you draw your own conclusions to that statement.

Now I find myself as a weary parent of a three-year old daughter who has been witty even before she had expressive language. I recall a day very clearly when she was an infant and nursing on the breast. Often, when nursing, I found myself simply watching her – observing her expressions, and noting every single little body part – ‘what an adorable little ear’, ‘look how she hugs in real close’, ‘can you believe how big her feet are?’ In developing this habit of staring while she ate, I hadn’t realized that she’d grown accustomed to being observed and one day, my attention drifted away from her cozied form and began gazing around the room instead. Didn’t I hear a little ‘humph’ and I looked down to her to see her smile and squirm with glee for having successfully called my attention back to her! Too funny! She was used to being observed and I laughed out loud when I realized what she’d done – this only caused further smiles and squirms from her in response. Well, I’ll be darned – my infant has a sense of humour!!

In my daughter’s toddler years, I must admit, humour was often lost on her. For example, the term “bum quack” came from a rather duck-like sound discharged from her posterior – I laughed and said that sounded like a bum quack. Didn’t she immediately turn around with a look of terror! She thought there was a duck behind her! I did not wish to terrify my daughter, but I had to laugh even harder and I continued to use the term ‘bum quack’ with all future incidents of toddler flatulence and I’m pleased to say it’s paid off. Quincy can ever so gently break wind and chuckle with “excuse me, I quacked’ and honestly, this is a lot less embarrassing in the grocery store than other obvious statements.

Now, let’s leave the inconsequential and move into the – how-does-this-help-me-as-a-parent realm. As she moved headstrong into her preschool years her fierce sense of independence and pride developed much more. It became beneficial to give or, quite honestly, take a time out for certain challenging situations. What I found though, in doing so, is that my daughter inherited equal portions of stubborn from both my husband and myself – poor tart. This could make a time out both lengthy and tedious. Enter humour. Once the angst has safely passed and your tot is now sitting there simply out of spite, humour can be a very cathartic and healing quality to move the situation forward from frustrating to memorable. An example from my very own home – Quincy (and I) take a time out on the bottom step as it is visible from all angles but far enough away from stimulus as to prove effective. She has spent at least 3 times the necessary beneficial time on the step but was unwilling to move past her pride and return to any other fun task. I didn’t wish to make it another power struggle and I’d rather simply move into our chat about “what was that all about anyway?” Well, the cat sauntered into the room and I promptly disguised my voice into a rather mickey mouse sounding likeness and asked “Quincy, I’m tired and my kitty bones ache, can I have my step back? I’d like to rest there” as though our cat was making a personal request. Quincy looked at the cat, then looked at me – was that a smirk I saw? I didn’t stick around to find out as I sensed her pride would have won out and she’d replace the smirk with an almighty frown if I paid it too much attention. My use of humour and my respect for her pride allowed for her to take a moment to enjoy the joke, then rise from the step unprompted and join me in the kitchen chirping in her own mickey mouse voice “could I have a drink, my kitty mouth is dry” and we proceeded to play-cat throughout dinner prep – a day that I continue to remember fondly.

Parents, I implore you to take a moment and crack a joke with your tots. At the end of our day, we’ll remember those moments best and be able to overlook all the other moments in which we were red-faced and frustrated. Your little one may also learn methods in which s/he might manage her own life frustrations or stresses a little better – whenever possible laugh it off! I know when life hands me lemons, I try to bite in and make a funny face…and that has made all the difference.

PS. Pizza Beard Definition – when you have inadvertently left a piece of your pizza slice on your chin. Most humorous when you are completely unaware of it.

Share a story of your own family fun - either as a comment below or submit your own story to blogentry@gingerbreadlane.ca and we’ll post it here

Can you picture yourself in an apron? Or perhaps, dusted lightly with flour or cocoa? Whatever the outcome, it’s fun baking / cooking with your kids and it sets the stage for helpful tots in the kitchen if they are made comfortable and confident now. No pressure! I speak from a kitchen-resistant background - I really do cook out of necessity versus a desire to create from scratch any culinary delight. In order to make anything even remotely edible, I use recipes…love ‘em…would be doubled over in gastric agony without ‘em…

So, I found this sight for kids recipes that I think is pretty grand - Kids Health, Recipes for Kids

and one such recipe enjoyed from here which also made for a slow-paced and thoroughly engrossing Saturday morning with my daughter was the Blueberry Pancakes. Recipe seen below:

Blueberry Pancakes (Home Made)
Prep time: about 20 minutes

Ingredients:

* 3/4 c. flour
* 1 tbsp. sugar
* 1 tsp. baking powder
* 1/2 tsp. salt
* 1 tbsp. margarine
* 1 egg
* 3/4 c. milk
* 1/2 c. blueberries, washed and drained
* extra margarine for the pan

Utensils:

* stove

* large bowl
* mixing spoon
* saucepan
* medium-size bowl
* whisk
* measuring cups and spoons
* spatula

Directions:

1. In a large bowl, sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Set the bowl aside.
2. Melt the margarine in a small saucepan.
3. Crack the egg into a medium-size bowl, then add the milk and melted margarine.
4. Whisk until everything is well mixed.
5. Add the flour mixture to the egg mixture. Whisk again until both mixtures are blended together.
6. Put extra margarine in the saucepan and heat it on the stovetop on medium heat. It is hot enough when the margarine starts to bubble.
7. Use a measuring cup or a small ladle to spoon the batter into the pan. Put some blueberries on top of each pancake.
8. Cook your pancakes on medium heat until small bubbles appear on the top.
9. Use a spatula to see when your pancakes are light brown on the bottom. When they are, flip them over with the spatula.
10. Cook for another few minutes until the pancakes are light brown on the other side.
11. Remove your pancakes and put them on plates to enjoy!

Serves: 2

Serving size: 3 or 4 medium pancakes

Please note, that this will leave your kitchen an absolute disaster and it’s advised that you save your daily shower until after - you’ve made the pancakes. Don’t be deterred - the best kind of fun always has a light dusting of flour…

Did you try this recipe or have one of your own?  Send to blogentry@gingerbreadlane.ca and I’ll post it or leave a comment below - I’d even love to see some before pancake making and after pancake making pictures of your kitchen!

I just stepped on a marble as I was walking across the floor and I’m not sure if it’s one that my daughter left behind or, perhaps, one of the few remaining ones lost from my own head. Either way, I picked it up and put in my pocket. You can never be too safe.

What!? What??? Does this imply good news? A great surprise? A sick sense of self-loathing..?? Close that thought - wipe your mind clear of any preconceived notions - and consider this. I miss the period at the end of my sentences.

What?! This woman’s ticking nuts - what the pink twill does she mean?

I waited a long time for my toddler to talk. At least it felt like a long time because she came out of the womb frustrated that she didn’t have full expressive language! Until she could begin to express herself verbally she was a wailing, screaming dervish and once she began to articulate words, her dervish dropped off significantly and a collective breath of relief passed through our household instead.
Throughout this extended phase, a number of veteran parents would say - “first you are praying for them to talk, then you are praying for them to be quiet”. Yes, indeed.

Now, my daughter is a toddler - in fact, moving into her “preschool” years and her chatter is welcome but incessant. There are whole days in which I’ve not heard the end of a single sentence that I’ve started - and I miss my period. I would find that punctuation-of-pause a relief - “yeah, a finished thought!” My daughter’s mind, and now her mouth, runs from thought to thought enthusiastically and it’s not so much about the individual thought itself but more about the opportunity to explore so many thoughts in toddler “real time”. “Toddler real time” is - for every one adult second, there are 4.2 toddler seconds and for each toddler second there is an independent and unique thought. Within our one second or one effort to speak or respond, our toddler is already onto another thought - or 4.2 several. We are left with our mouth hanging open or our tongue bit in frustration and a slightly louder voice with our next barely-there response. Sigh…

It’s fun to sit back and simply watch our little one’s brain at work…wow!! Slow down!! Child, you’re going to self-destruct with the infinite possibilities playing tennis in your head! In the meantime parents, know that you will (eventually) and with great patience and repeat interuptions, teach your child social graces - like allowing a person to finish their sentence - period!

Know what I mean? Leave a comment below - I won’t interrupt I promise.

I’m wondering if that is actually my own drooping eye-bags that I feel resting against my cheeks…

It’s been a busy two weeks - along with all the normal “crazy-ness”, I’m wondering where I’ll find a moment to recover some of my waning energies. Each day feels as though I am beginning a packed-full day on a half-full tank. It is not a complaint - I lead a full and productive life. I am merely pondering - as my lower eyelids rest comfortably on my face - what can I cram into an already busy lifestyle that is purely self-indulgent. A hobby perhaps…

It’s got me thinking - why not think something so simple as a hobby to death - that I wonder what other people do for fun, to unwind, or to give yourself a moment (or several) of simple pleasure.

Do you scrapbook?

Enjoy a glass of wine?

A nice cup of tea?

A jog?

Some rock wall climbing?

Read a good book?

Catch up on some blogs?

My mind literally becomes overwhelmed with possibilities and I’m left unmotivated to start any one of them…where would I begin? I’m seeking a way to form a new habit that is purely meant to sooth and nurture my spirit, so I can appreciate this life’s journey a little more - feel like I have a say in it rather than feel that I’m being pushed around by it. How do you begin a new hobby? Give me some ideas…

I’m a firm believer (read previous posts) that breaking tasks down into simple steps is an easy way to get things done - without excuses that “there’s no time!”. But I need some inspiration so I ask you - the reader - this…

1) what can you suggest as indulgent hobbies? something you’ve enjoyed or, perhaps, something you’ve always been curious to try?

2) what has stopped you from finding and participating in a hobby?

3) what advise would you give me to get started?

I’d like to see your comments. This could be a grand starting point as a motivational tool in all of our crazy, overworked lives!

I gently push my saggy eyelids back into their rightful place, take a deep affirming breath and click “post”…

Now, I believe in getting my life organized in small reasonable chunks. In fact, I have learned this method through years (and years and years) of watching my mother, myself and most friends that I know, experience intense and heart-pounding moments (ney, days) of frustrations because we “can’t get it all done”, “can’t get caught up”, “can’t get enough help”, “can’t ________(you place your own complaint)”. We can go for years, perhaps our entire lifetime, of not realizing that it’s not, in fact, the time/help/circumstance factor that is causing such chaos and disorder in our lives - it is only us. Yes, you. Know that this is no criticism - I don’t believe in kicking someone when they’re down - it is meant to be the pep talk that I think we’ve all needed at some point in our lives - as we weep over the mountain of laundry that appears to clone itself, as we curse over the piled up bills that won’t file themselves and as we wail to any victim passing within earshot and yet unable to hear. My suggestion, as it pertains to the transition from sandals to socks is this - don’t go into the closet believing that the closet needs to be “cleaned up”, that the winter clothes shopping needs to be done ‘right now!” (save that as a reward for later) and that the bag of donations must be delivered today or the poor sods will freeze - otherwise, this simple transition has already taken on astronomical proportions and your heart rate has already gone up in a non-positive fashion. Busy families can grab 5 minutes at a time, at best, so work with that…

Enter the sock drawer and purge. I am laughing out loud as I realize I knowingly wore mismatched socks last year. A charcoal gray and a light gray pair each lost their respective partners but I said to myself “there’s still plenty of wear left in these close friends” and I kept the darn things. With a summer’s worth of distance between myself and that stupid decision I can now enter my drawer, locate the not-quite-right pair and toss ‘em. But don’t stop there - bring the garbage can with you - purge the unsightly, holed, mismatched socks from each drawer in your home. It shouldn’t take you more than 5 minutes if you keep yourself focused. Don’t even think about opening the t-shirt drawers or, heaven forbid, your undies. Keep your eyes on your feet and plod on…

When you are finished, walk away - know that you have completed a part of the seasons preparatory tasks in a very reasonable time frame.

Break each step of this foot-garnishing ritual into 5-minute challenges. Get the kid(s) involved (if it will help the process rather than hinder it). Set a timer to add extra motivation to keeping it to five minutes and whether the task is done or not, walk away when the timer dings. I enjoy a favourite song rather than a timer because I find myself singing / dancing along and quite enjoying the moment - I walk away when the song is done. If you hit ‘repeat’ on the stereo, consider that you may have an obsessive-compulsive flaw and should possibly seek professional help.

Suggested 5-minute challenges to get the ‘big task’ done:
* Empty current closet of all summer wear discarding those too-worn sandals (please don’t make me look at them again next year - are you trying to evoke pity from friends?) and keeping the in-good-shape ones in the closet still (gotta wear something until you pull warm shoes out, right?
* When you are next out on errands and anywhere near a clothing retailer (ex. getting diapers at Walmart) then swing around and pick up the socks that you need for the family. Don’t get distracted - this is only supposed to add five minutes to your errand.
* Pull out warm footwear and purge too-ratty pairs from each member of the family - make mental note of what needs to be replaced. Give a vacuum or a sweep from their seasonally ignored location.
* When it is now consistently too chilly to hang onto the sandals, grab a laundry basket, pile the summer gear into it and dump about 2 feet away from the winter gears home. Transfer the winter gear into the basket, play a game of toss and match in that deep-closet location with the summer stuff and take the basket of the winter stuff to the most active closet and deposit it. Unless, your family is vigilant about lining things up (again, consider professional help) leave the darn things in a reasonable pile. There is a good chance that is the same pile you will see - and successfully retrieve - your own shoes from for the upcoming season and everyone else seems to do just fine too. Really, you must pick your battles and learn to let the small things go…

For the sake of variety in a day, you can incorporate a couple five-minute challenges from different parts of your home - winter clothes, packing away the outdoor furniture, clearing out the no-longer-used toys, etc so that you feel as though you are making progress in a few areas. As long as progress is made, stop beating yourself up over your unreasonable desire to get-it-all-done. Recognize your strengths - that you are attending to everything in an organized and do-able fashion - pat yourself on the back for that success and grab a coffee.

Send your sock drawer pictures to blogentry@gingerbreadlane.ca or post a comment below - and why not send in your own 5-minute challenge idea?