As all you mamas know, once one kid is down, it’s just a matter of time before they all start dropping like flies. I’ve got a lot of flies, so things can drag on for quite some time. In fact, with so many flies, the whole little germ fest tends to recycle and the first kid who brought it into the house is starting round two of something while the last kid is just heading into recovery mode. It’s like a twisted game of germ tag.

So what was wrong with them? We probably had a bit of swine flu love, but it was nothing more than what seems to be regular winter germ fare – fevers, sore throats, coughs. I didn’t feel it was necessary to drag them to the doctor only to be told to get their germs out of her office and back home because they have the flu. Did I vaccinate them? Nah, waiting in line for five hours with six kids sounds more hideous than H1N1 itself.

Everyone ended up missing out on a few days of school and activities. Once things seemed to perk up they were back in action – a little case of the sniffles does not warrant a sick day around my place. They’re well versed on keeping their green bits to themselves and I’d never put them back into circulation if they posed a risk to their friends.

We seem to be nearing the end of the first round of this nonsense and my overall assessment of sick round #1 for this season is a mark of B+. Marks got docked because baby ended up in ER on Ventolin. We gained marks back because we got through it without any pukers, and most importantly mama didn’t get sick! As long as mama doesn’t get it, we’re golden. Once I go down, it’s all over, red rover.

Two particular quotes indicated we were nearing the end of round one:

1) 6-year-old who had spent a few days frequenting “the loo” called me over to the toilet to do an inspection and announced “Look! I think my poop is feeling better!”
2) 3-year-old whose nose resembled a leaky tap for several days said “Mama, my nose has gone quiet!”

So come on round two, we’re ready for ya – we’ve got immune systems and we ain’t afraid to use ‘em!

The round up:

- Partnered with a camp for children who are burn victims;
- In celebration of International Women’s Day, donations were made to the young mothers at St. Martin’s Manor;
- Staff volunteered at an Eco-Festival to celebrate Earth Day;
- Gift wrapping – staff volunteered in the holiday season to raise money for local hospital;
- Food bank food drive – Mabel’s Labels had an interdepartmental competition;
- Product donation to group home for developmentally disabled adolescents;
- Portion of holiday product sales used to sponsor families through the holiday season;
- Countless gift certificates donated to charity organizations to use as door prize and silent auction items.

I’m pretty excited to be working with a bunch of folks who think this stuff is important – makes us feel even more like a team and has the added benefit of showing our children that involvement in the community matters.

So I’m happy with how that lesson is being taught through what I do at work, but I got to thinking about what we are doing at home and also feel pretty OK about our efforts:

- Each week the big kiddos donate a portion of their allowance towards a charity or cause;

- Our family sponsors a child in another country. The kiddos have learned to sacrifice some of their ‘wants’ so that we are able to support our sponsored child’s needs;

- The kiddos participate in community projects. Just recently we did a clean up day with daddy-o’s company and all kids, big and small, contributed. OK, so maybe the baby just sat in the stroller and “supervised”.

What do you do, either at work or home, that helps to spread the love? Let us know because we’re always looking for fun and fresh ideas on how we can help in little ways around here.

I had a miscarriage soon after my first child was born. My loss was accompanied with some guilt too – finding out I was pregnant while having a newborn left me horrified. I quickly adjusted to the thought of my “Irish Twins” and was devastated when I miscarried. Then came the guilt – how could I have initially greeted this pregnancy with such little enthusiasm? Guilt and being a mama – a match made in hell.

Almost 10 years has passed since that time but there are two occasions when I am particularly reminded about it:

1) When I see my friend who had a similar due date. Her little girl will be turning nine-years-old next month. I should have someone turning nine next month.
2) When filling out the paperwork in subsequent pregnancies, you are required to record how many live births you have had, and also how many pregnancies. My numbers don’t match. I get shivers thinking about the mamas out there whose numbers REALLY don’t add up, and by a long shot. Just can’t imagine having to write down: pregnancies: 8 / live births: 0

I often think about the mamas who have lost full-term babies or babies during the first year of life. I wonder what happens when they are innocently asked “so, how many kids do you have?”

I think that must be a torturous question – the answer could either make you feel you are not acknowledging your lost child, or alternatively, you have to explain the painful experience to every stranger who is making small talk.

I had a teacher in high school who was raising two daughters, five years apart in age. She had lost her middle daughter, who was severely disabled, after several years of caring for her three girls. She often had people comment to her: “two kids, five years apart in age – what an easy way to do it!”

Little did they know.

I hope that this Day of Remembrance tells the world that mama is entitled to her grief – no matter what form it takes or how long it lasts, which is often a lifetime. So, on this day let us remember our losses. In some ways for many mamas, it is a day like no other – a day that we love and miss our children.

Being interviewed was Shane Earle, Mount Cashel Orphanage survivor. Something he said really resonated with me: the way we live each day as an adult is a constant reaction to how we were treated as a child.

That really spoke to me – although the majority of our years are spent as an adult, those childhood years are with us always. We carry those around with us day in and day out. Sadly, the weight of those years can be very heavy for some people.

I want the weight of their childhood years to be very light for my adult children. It got me to thinking – how am I treating my children to contribute to them being at peace as adults? I started a mental list and will share two simple ways that I think are significant. They are both little things that I hope make my kids feel like they are the top dogs in my life. Here are my two bits of advice:

1) Be excited to see them.
Whether the kids are walking in from school or I’m picking them up from Cubs, I always look ridiculously excited to see them. Sometimes I have to fake it – sometimes I wish they were gone for another hour, but they don’t need to know that. I vividly remember my own mom’s face every time we came home from school. She looked as though she was eagerly waiting to be re-united with us. Man, it made me feel good.

2) Don’t be late picking them up.
It is a very rare occasion that I would be even a couple of minutes late to pick up my kids. I feel like being late is sending them a message: I was so preoccupied with my work or other activity that I forgot about you. Being on time tells them that they are my first priority.

Sure, they are small, but as a child those things made me feel really valued. And as Shane Earle said, how we are treated as a child has a tremendous impact on our adult lives. I hope those little things will give them confidence and they will go into adulthood knowing their worth.

So, how do you treat your kiddos? What tips and tricks do you have to help lighten the load for your adult children?

The other evening I was nagged by the sound of a faint knock at our door. I was just starting all the bedtime routines and it was a particularly challenging evening since daddy-o was out of town.

I ignored the nagging knocking as long as possible then finally opened the door. There he was – persistent Sales Guy. He was quick to mention that he didn’t ring the doorbell because it was obvious I had small kids. Pretty observant considering he had to make his way through an obstacle course of strollers, bikes and ride on toys. When he did make it to the front door he was greeted by a poster that says “shhhh…children sleeping”. All that kiddo evidence stopped him from ringing, though it obviously didn’t act as a deterrent from knocking.

A moment after I opened the door, out came the pitch. As he’s yammering on, I’m jiggling a fussy baby, a toddler is yelling from the toilet demanding a bum wipe, big kids are fighting and a little kid is tugging on my leg with pajamas half on. Sales Guy did not take any of that chaos as his cue to bail. Finally I interrupted him.

Me: “Hang on a sec – don’t you see what is going on here? Can’t you see that this is a completely inappropriate time to come to my door? Look around! I can’t even hear a word that you are saying!”

Sales guy: “yes, that’s true. Is there a better time for you?”

Me “yes, come back in spring of 2015 – maybe around dinner time”

Sales guy: “uh, OK”

This incident reminded me of another sales experience I had in spring of 2005. One evening I was alone with three crazy small children and a week away from having baby #4. A young guy came to the front door representing a local golf club. He began his pitch which included however many rounds of golf for one very low price. I gave him a stern look and said something along the lines of:

“Listen here young golf man: no one, and I mean NO ONE in this house is playing golf this summer. You got that? So why don’t you just mosey on along now and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

He looked at me like I was a completely hormonal psycho mama, and that was a pretty accurate assessment. So, now that I’m back at work and looking at our Sales Department, I can tell you with great confidence that you will never hear from anyone at Mabel’s Labels during feeding, bathing, or bedtime at your zoo. Promise. Pinky swear.

As the airplane was taking off, mama started breastfeeding babe. As any travelling mama knows, it’s good if you can get babe to feed on the way up and the way down to relieve any ear pain due to changing air pressure.

As she is feeding, old dude is shuffling around, mumbling under his breath, clearing his throat and basically looking uncomfortable with the breastfeeding situation that is going down beside him.

It was a short flight so before long decent had started and mama sensibly put babe back on breast. Old dude could not contain himself any longer and said “this is clearly making me uncomfortable and yet you continue to breastfeed that child.”

At that point, old dude should have been happy he was not sitting next to me. I feed anywhere, anytime and in front of anyone. If someone feels uncomfortable, they are welcome to leave. Indeed if that sentence had fallen on my ears I likely would have experienced something very close to rage.

Old dude had the good fortune of sitting beside a very gracious mama who very politely and respectfully explained why it helps baby to feed when there is change in air pressure. Old dude seemed satisfied and quite pleased that he had learned something new that day.

The plane landed and old dude was shuffling around looking for his cane and belongings when he turned and looked at my friend Steve and with a quiet smurk said:

“Huh, and to think for all these years I’ve been chewing gum”.

There’s something else about the office that I like that’s tricky to describe – a certain dynamic that makes ours not your average office.

One thing is that our staff is just plain fun – a real mix of humour, passion, intelligence and quirkiness. All this while also being completely professional and skillful. It’s a tall order, but we seem to have pulled it off. I’ve always had a hard time exactly pinpointing what it was about our office dynamic that made going to work so enjoyable. I never knew how to define it until Elia came along.

Elia recently completed a co-op placement with our Production Department. She was diligent and made countless contributions during her time at Mabel’s Labels. Elia also has autism. One of the skills we appreciated most was Elia’s ability to spin a regular occurrence into something memorable.

There was one situation that we all got a kick out of – whenever Elia was placed alongside a certain male student to work; she got a little twinkle in her eye and spring in her step. She would giggle and joke with him as they worked together. Then one day she said about this student what I have not been able to summarize about our work environment. She said “Oh Alex, you’re contagious!”

Contagious! That was the word that best describes our staff team – we hire people who are contagious. To celebrate Elia’s completion of her term with us, we had an office ice-cream party. Even though Elia is back at school and done here at Mabel’s Labels, her contagious personality will not be forgotten anytime soon.

Elia with one of the Mabel babies

This was reinforced last week when we held the Mabel’s Labels Staff and Family Summer Sizzler in my backyard. I gotta say, life is pretty good if you are a kid hanging out in my backyard. We keep things pretty kid focused around here so there is no shortage of activities – we have a heated swimming pool, trampoline, sand pit, swing set, and bikes and riding toys galore. To top it off, our house backs on to a huge park that is easily accessed by a gate in our back fence. Last Thursday, the Mabel team (and kiddos) rocked up and had a taste of my life in the suburbs.

Many years ago upon arriving to Canada, my grandparents co-founded a local Irish Club. Every year there was an annual picnic that was jam-packed with activities like running races and relay games. We enjoyed the picnic so much that it became a highlight of the summer.

In the spirit of the old Irish Club picnics, I put together an agenda of cheesy games and races. On top of doing the usual three-legged race and egg-toss, I added a few new ones to the mix that were nothing short of hilarious!

1) The Mommy Call:
You sit all the kids in their sibling groups at the finish line. The mamas get blind-folded at the start line. The kids then all start screaming “MOM! MOM!” and the first mama to find her kiddos is declared the winner.

2) The Daddy Piggy Back:
This activity requires dad to carry all of his children on his back while racing to the finish line. If a child falls off, dad is not allowed to move until child is back on. Clearly, the daddy-o in our family was at a disadvantage, but that didn’t stop him from giving it a good go. I pulled some rank and only allowed him to carry four of them at once – the thought of them all falling and landing on the baby was really too much for one mama to handle.

So maybe life in the suburbs is not so bad. Just imagine trying to pull off some of this fun elsewhere – dads stumbling through the city streets, loaded down with kids and tripping over the latte-sipping city folk in sidewalk cafes. Yep, I think for now this is right where we belong.

The adult version of “you get what you get” is when you have a baby. Not a lot of social engineering is involved so you can’t exactly order a baby of a particular gender or personality type. You can’t even count on baby being healthy so parents everywhere have to take what we get.

When my son was diagnosed with autism, I was pretty darn sad. I quickly realized that it was time to look myself in the mirror and scream the mantra. Being upset was not going to help me and it certainly was not going to contribute to my son’s development.

My SIL had to say the mantra to herself a few years ago upon discovering she was pregnant for the third time. She had two little boys already but being pregnant again was not the issue. Indeed, she had decided to quickly squeak in one more baby, preferably a girl, before changing her mind on going for a third child altogether. You can likely predict the ending – instead of that little girl, she got identical twin boys landing her in the glamorous position of being a mama to four boys under four.

Despite our reproductive plans going a bit pear-shaped, both my SIL and I have survived our adventures with laughs and a lot of love. Strangely, we’ve experienced some disapproval from those on the outside. While pregnant with the twins, my SIL had to listen to comments such as “oh, how awful!” when announcing she was having two more boys. People have expressed that I must be crazy to have more kids considering my risk of having another child with autism. I get that raising a kid with autism or having babies two at a time may not be on everyone’s “bucket list” of things to do before dying, but I can think of worse things.

So we grown-ups get what we get, and as you have probably figured out for yourself – getting upset is pretty much pointless. I can’t imagine a world without my boy and I can assure you that my SIL wouldn’t trade in “Thing One” and “Thing Two” for the most adorable girlie pink princess up for offer.

Like any kiddos, mine are big fans of critters and creatures. They are particularly fond of chipmunks, and at the cottage they spend a lot of time feeding and basically domesticating these little creatures.

Turns out they have made fast friends with the little critters at home as well. That was all fine until I noticed the filthy little rodents started tunneling everywhere and patio stones were sinking all over the garden. Daddy-o basically went nuts and started threatening rat traps and shot guns – he experienced “Chipmunk Rage” and it was not pretty. It became his obsession – every conversation became about chipmunks and I even caught him one night on Google using words like “chipmunks” and “death” in the same search.

He went to war with the chipmunks, and it became a battle he was losing. Badly. We were overrun with the little garden wreckers.

The kids were delighted when we picked up some chipmunk traps and began planning a chipmunk relocation. The rock quarry two kilometers up the road seemed the perfect destination for our furry friends.

I was explaining our little plan to another mama one morning at summer camp drop-off. She explained that some animals don’t relocate well but couldn’t comment on how chipmunks fair. When passing along this information to daddy-o, it became clear that he was not concerned about the stress levels or survival statistics of the relocated chipmunks. Fair enough – I think the chipmunk rage daddy-o experienced took a good few years off him.

We set our traps and began to catch them one after the other. When I went to do the first re-location, I noticed dear chippy had a bright orange spot on his back. Apparently daddy-o and the kiddos thought it appropriate to implement a poor man’s tracking system. If chipmunks with orange paint were in our backyard a few days later, it meant that we need to relocate further afield. It seemed I was the only one concerned about how the little critters were going to camouflage with the bright orange spots on them.

Needless to say, 11 trips to the rock quarry later, no orange chipmunks have returned to our property. While driving past the rock quarry last week, I noticed a little orange splat of something on the side of the road. Now my only concern is that the animal services folks might catch wind of our chipmunk relocation. If they rock up to the house asking questions, I think I’ll spray daddy-o with some orange paint and tell them to relocate him.