Infestation

Non-stereotypically of girls, I don't mind bugs. Bugs who bother me – eat my food or my person or that of my family & friends, or hang out in our immediate space – must die. It's simple. But they generally don't creep me out^[1].

That was before lice. The other day I found a creepy crawly in The Boy's hair. And I lost my shit. It's been four days now and it hasn't found its way back.

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It seems like I'm now in this exclusive club that includes, oh I don't know, EVERYONE! My casual discussions this week:

"Oh yeah, we were sitting eating breakfast and I saw this bug dart out of her hairline on her forehead"

WHAT WHAT WHAAAAT???

"He said 'Mom, my head itches' and he hadn't had a shower for a few days so I scrubbed his scalp extra and when he got out he said 'MOOOOM it still itches!' so I checked him closer and yeah, he was crawling with them"

HOW DID YOU NOT BURN YOUR OWN HOUSE DOWN???

"She must have got it from a new hat I let her wear without washing it. She was crawling with them"

NOW *I* WANT TO BURN YOUR HOUSE DOWN!!! AND MINE!!!

Rational thought eventually kind of took over with the realization that washing every single washable item in the house seventeen-thousand times is STILL EASIER TO MANAGE than rebuilding with null-and-void insurance and a jail-term for arson (full disclosure: Max hid all the flammable implements).

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I understand that it has nothing to do with your cleanliness, or tidiness or how good or not good your parenting is. Believe me I understand this. With the nearly monthly letters sent home saying "someone in your child's class has lice, blah blah blah" they really try to hammer that home (rightly so). Besides, if it DID have anything to do with my ability as a housekeeper, I would have had lice since – oh, I don't know, my early 20s. But that doesn't keep me feeling like a filthy hobo (and not the sexy kind, that the gentlemen seem to find so endearing); OR my family from treating each other like lepers.

All told, I think it was caught extremely early. The cases above are more likely what would have happened if there hadn't been a miraculous fluke of me inspecting Stewie's scalp, as he'd been having some seborrhoea (what's called "cradle cap" in babies – also gross, but y'know, not a MOTHERFUCKINGPARASITE). [Aside: I now have a rock-steady handle on the scalp-health of everyone in this family.]

I bought the treatment (cornered and grilled the pharmacist for about half an hour) and applied it, then decided to go a little more CSI on everyone else. Norah turned up positive. Max & Pepper are negative (so far). Myself? It took the awesome nerd-slinging power of the microscope^[2] to overwhelm my denial with scientific proof, so I've been treated too. (He climbed into bed in the morning before I found them. The little bastard is so snugly! And he still says "I wuff you, Mummy")

We'll treat again, as directed: 7 days after first treatment. And, by all accounts, about six to eight weeks from the "all clear", I might slow the meticulous checks down to every other day. Until then, I toy with the idea of shaving my head, but I can't seem to find any sharp implements, either…

^[1] Don't test that, I said "generally"

^[2] What, you don't have a microscope in your home? Get off the internet & don't try and call yourself a nerd until you've rectified the situation. Electron not necessary.

Live Tweeting the spectacle:

Found head lice on The Boy. From what I've read, for the amount of bugs I now feel crawling all over me, I'd expect to be way higher.

Lice: I mean, it's not like the bed didn't need vacuuming anyway, right? RIGHT?

Bad: Kid-with-brush-cut having lice. Worse: Kid-with-long-hair-who-hates-brushing-it-like-ever confirmed. Better: 3 of us remain pure.

Also: motherfucking headache.

Also: hot water tank (which was never really resolved) acting up. KIND OF NEED HOT WATER TO KILL IT ALL.

Did I mention motherfucking headache?

New challenge: keep lice-free kid from picking through the head of infested one.

I really should have read through fine-print of the EULA for Parenting. Instead, we were all "oooo babies are soooooo cute!" [ACCEPT]

Are lice treatments tax-deductible? How about the booze treatments? You know. For me.

OH: "don't threaten your sister with your head". OK, it was me. I've just gone to my happy-place & am laughing at everything I'm watching.

OMG!!! This changes everything: "Stop [current offensive behavior] or you'll catch lice from your brother". How long can I pull this off?

If 10 yrs ago you had told me I'd be vacuuming pillows at midnight, I'd have said "who the hell are you?"

Also: "maybe you could foretell something a little more useful? Like what kind of car I'll be driving?"

Influence

One hundred years ago today (March 29), my Grandma was born.

Left: She and I at her London Street house c. 1969; Right: About 30 years later, months prior to the emergence of her first great-grandchild

Grandma's been gone for just over four years, and I miss her terribly. But her mark on my life was indelible, so since she has passed, I have had far less of a sense of loss than I imagined I might. She has really not gone anywhere.

As a woman of my generation and socio-geo-nomic upbringing, it's easy to become complacent about my lot in life. It's easy to wave off the fact that I vote and have an education and a decent job. That I am surrounded by people who accept it as a natural decision of circumstance within a family, that the father be at home with the kids. Or the mother.

There are two kinds of people (yes, I said "people") who have put me here today: there are those who spoke out & marched & fought & litigated & fought & marched some more; and there are those who just did. Grandma just did. Every day.

The Three Lessons From Grandma, that she never, ever said out loud:

1. Get yourself an education. And don't stop.
2. NO ONE can make you feel inferior without your permission (I realize that Eleanor Roosevelt said that, but Grandma lived it)
3. Do not take yourself too seriously, dammit!

Without words, every one of those lessons has been threaded through my person, as I've tried to emulate her spirit in an entirely different life & time. #2 is hard, but I think I'm doing OK.

**************

Happy Great-Grandma Norah Day!

(Pepper named the day, on Grandma's first birthday after she passed. She saw it marked on the calendar, she decided we should do something about it. So we did!)

Parenting... It's All About Communication

I yell: "STAND STILL SO I CAN TAKE YOUR PICTURE!":



I whisper: "chocolate chips":

(Actually, everything in all of life is all about communication, but that's a topic for a different post. One filed under "d'uh".)

The Volcano

For as long as I can remember, I've eaten my mashed potatoes by piling them up, carving a little hole in them and filling the hole up with gravy. It just makes sense. This way, you get maximum efficient use of your plate (especially important in buffet situations) with minimum risk of gravy infiltration to other food – just gross (half of you are now sitting there nodding "oh, that's just obvious"; the other three are face-palming "WTF? You are bent lady!" that second half of you can just bite me)

Growing up, my family mostly ignored accepted this. I have received some blank stares and probably some rolled eyes when I wasn't looking. Mostly, just "oh, that Harmzie – has to make her little mashed potato volcano!" They openly mock me (NB: this is just regular, every day, normal family interaction - it's why I have the stomach for the Internet) – albeit quietly – but I'm certain they realize the genius of my arrangement as I see them Easter, Thanksgiving & Christmas dinner after Easter, Thanksgiving & Christmas dinner, their little piles of mashed potatoes sporting increasingly larger divots in their tops. They make sure their gravy runs over so it doesn't look like they did it on purpose, but I'm watching...

My girls noticed this early in their mashed potato consumerism phases. Not having the years of family politics and baggage to impede them, they quickly embraced the brilliance of The Volcano. Mashed potatoes are one of their favourite and most highly anticipated foods in the dinner cycle. Sadly, Stewie will not eat mashed potatoes, even with the entertainment they bring to the table [snort].

Usually, they are content with piling the potatoes, smooshing out the hole and watching the gravy fill the void until it *just* runs over the edge – the smaller the trickle, the better (this whole issue may actually be the reason Pepper did her volcano project last spring). The other night though, things were a little more... interesting.

I had built the perfect volcanoes for each of them. I mean, textbook. One tiny stream of lava running down a craggy mountain face. Pepper took her fork (she used a fork! I'm so proud) and grabbed a tiny blob of potatoes and put it smack in the lava's path.

"Oh no! The lava is heading right for the city!"

Norah quickly followed, noting a city in her lava stream. "Oh... they're toast"

Pepper was madly trying to save her city by redirecting lava flows. I noted her city was right on the edge of her plate. "You know," I commented, "as the chief engineer, if any lava gets on the table, YOU'RE the one responsible – and in big trouble." She looked at me blankly. "You can *direct* your lava flows. Do you see how your sister's city is toward the middle of her plate?" More blank. "Don't get gravy on the table!"

Norah had moved on. "Look Pepper, my volcano has exploded, taken out the city and is now a delicious lava and ash tornado"

Throughout all of this – including the naming of Mount Potato, Mount Chick(en), Mount Bean (we had green beans, too), plus a dozen more including Mount Norah, Mount Pepper, Mount Stewie, as well as each of their friends on our street AND in school... AND several other food varieties we were not having that night... – Stewie was watching intently while gnawing on his drumstick – the only thing from this delicious and entertaining supper to pass his lips. At one point, he stood in his chair and announced that he would have some mashed potatoes too, but that he didn't want to eat them. Before I had a chance to shoot him down in a fiery ball of momtastic you-can't-have-food-JUST-to-play-with-it, BOTH Pepper and Norah chimed in with a matter-of-fact "No, you can`t just play with a volcano, you have to eat it too"

"Oh," he replied, and sat back down, continuing to watch & gnaw on his drumstick.

And I just wrote an entire post about mashed potatoes.

Girly Bible

Girly Bible

Rules for Girls

Reprinted (verbatim – as is the title) with permission from the author.

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1. Never talk about vilolince
   
2. Never think vilolince is funny
   
3. Never kiss a boy under the age of 12 (unless they are relitives)
   
4. Never tell secrets to those you don't know
   
5. Pay no attention when the "boy show" is on
   
6. Always eat & talk (not at the same time) for the girls show
   
7. Never be rude
   
8. When you have a crush on a boy be nobody but yourself
   
9. Always be yourself
   
10. Be clean
    
11. Don't' change the rules in this book (And I mean it!)
    
12. Obey the rules
    
13. Take care of what you have
    
14. Friends don't fight
    
15. Friends don't be meen to each other
    
16. Friends look out for each other
    
17. Play fair
    
18. Ignore those who are annoying
    
19. Be careful what you say
    
20. Be calm
    
21. Face your fears
    
22. Boys don't live by these rules
    
23. Never expect anything in return
    
24. Don't make fun of people
    
25. Chear on your teammates & friends
    
26. Don't play with matches
    
27. Stay fit
    
28. Dress apropitly for the wether
    
29. Don't listen to advratisements
    
30. Mute ads
    
31. Get your butt of the couch and go outside
    
32. Don't do things without asking your parents (unless your 18+)
    
33. Be neat
    
34. Be careful what you wish
    
35. Do what you want to do
    
36. Girls are not lazy
    
37. Don't cry over spilt milk
    
38. What you say is what you are
    
39. Nnnnnnnnneeeeeevvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrr no matter what obey the boy bible.
    
40. Don't talk to strangers
    
41. Obey rule #40
    
42. Be a good girl all the time.
    
43. Ignore boys
    
44. Consentrate
    
45. Remember all the rules!
    

Norah – age 9

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I didn't write this. I didn't even encourage its writing. I didn't even know about it until it was well under way. But it is extremely encouraging to note the influence we have had on its creation. Several of these rules we *regularly* deal with *considerable* flack on. The violence ones are humorous, considering the frequency of sister-clocking which occurs around here. We're still working on implementation of the rules, I suppose.

***Update***

I hit "publish", snap the computer closed and roll over to go to sleep. Max reaches out with big bear arms and pulls me in for a big bear hug. He giggles lasciviously "is THIS in the Girly bible?"

"No," I say "This will be in the new testament, which she doesn't know she has to write yet."

Sweet and Salty

The girls stayed up way too late last night to watch a movie on TV because "IT'S THE WEEKEND!" and it's what we do on weekends, apparently.

So the crazy late, late movie they watched was actually "Cheaper by the Dozen 2 - we left the movie making machine on!" Stewie actually tried to stay up too, but fell asleep by about 9:30.

When it was over, despite it being ELEVEN o'clock, I still had to grab their scrawny little arms and twist them beyond what is reasonable force to convince them that maybe they should be going to bed, because "it's the weekend" and "OMG! It's Prank Patrol! We HAVE to watch that".

I tucked them in separately, in their separate rooms on separate floors. And separately, as they were settling, they both paused and gave me the saddest look I had ever seen from them and told me of this really sad commercial they had seen. (They're supposed to mute the commercials, but I go hoarse yelling over to the TV area "why am I hearing that?")

And then they started CRYING! Each of them.

I thought: "damn - I forgot that they have a whole different set of commercials on later, even on YTV". I assumed we were going into World Vision territory, but no. The offender was thus:



Of course, my poor dears, I hugged them and comforted them at the same time as I was giggling at them for being so sensitive. Then I watched it myself and suddenly found that there was a bit of something in my eye.

Here's notice, Sidekicks: any chance you had of ever coming into this home are summarily ELIMINATED when you make my girls cry! (disclaimer: it was slim to none prior)(clarification: and it's NOT because there was something in MY eye).

"I'm just gonna do this, and if your leg gets in the way, it's your own fault"

My girls were exactly what I thought little boys were like. Then my boy showed up and has been exactly what I thought the cross between a poltergeist (the destructive spectre, not creepy movie version); that hungry weasel that regularly slurps up and down Foghorn Leghorn's drumstick; and a pinball machine on multi-ball would be. It's like he's instantly everywhere with Destructive Intent. He doesn't go anywhere where he's not starting off the conversation swinging.

After teaching each of our two "creative" and "active" daughters for two years each, we brought our son in to Mrs G, the Nursery School / Kindergarten Teacher (that is not a short-form, or an alias, everyone actually calls her Mrs G). We said "Here! CYA" and ran. Cue "ricochet" sound, and maniacal laughter for two as we tore down the hall.

She's got two years to fix him.

Tonight, I observed the following in the kitchen:

#1 engaging in bear-hug-like embrace of #2, such that both were collapsing to the ground, with #3 taking full advantage of by kidney-punching them both all the way down. All were laughing (you know, until they're not)

She's got a bit of a tough nut to crack, but I'm sure that there's no connection to the fact that she's retiring next year.

Not Me my kid Monday

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week. I usually just run over and read the denials of Stone Fox leaving my own snide additions there, but today it switched to the kids, so it was like a sign from the bloggoddessessess from above, so here we go:

My beautiful nine-year-old girl did NOT come up to my room and sit on my bed last night at the EXACT. WORST. POSSIBLE. TIME. And proceed to tell us in great detail how she was worried about when the sun would explode.

That is all.

Cool Stuff From Last Week - Part II

I am aware that "Last Week" is actually two three a few weeks ago, but I promised to report on it...

I mentioned in Part I, that the girls presented their Class Expert projects last week a few weeks ago. Pepper did hers on volcanoes and presented on Tuesday, and Norah did hers on The Great Wall of China (click photo to enlarge)

She and Max sat researching in front of the computer on several separate occasions. They started with the basics: what; where; when; why; who; how.

She jotted down the questions and answers and ended up with a pretty concise history of China as it is represented by the Great Wall. She then was able to present and discuss the subject in front of her classmates with ease.

In grade 1, she did an awesome project on the solar system. Her and Max started with a soccer ball as the sun, then did calculations to figure out how big and far away the planets would be away. They made them all out of plasticine, and for the presentation, Norah took the class out into the hall put the soccer ball/sun at one end and paced out how far the planets would be. If I recall, she was able to demonstrate Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars and Jupiter before she got to the end of the hall. She then had to explain the approximate location of the others, like "over on Fleet", and "at the community centre". Also: "the next closest star would be in Calgary"

In grade 2, she did a PowerPoint presentation with a video on taking care of her Betta, Nemo (still swimming, by the way!)

OK, so I realize this isn't the most stellar and fascinating of posts, but it's been "out there" picking away at me for while. Also I've got to post some dawgs every once in a while to showcase the awesomaucity of the rest of them. Consider this the plain bridesmaid in the ugly dress making the bride look even more stunning. It's got a nice personality, but, y'know.

[Does anyone else do a once-over of a hyper enlarged photo of things in your living room before posting to make sure there aren't any underpants on the floor, or beer-bottles or knives laying around? No? Just me?]

Oh, Baby!

Oh, yeah. They totally want one.

The Boy is a little more "uh, yeah, there's only room for ONE baby in this house, muthafukka" The smile is totally fake.

[Thanks to our special friends, BA Berg & Co for supplying the beautiful little prop - and causing me just a teensy bit of "just one more!!" Just a teensy bit. It went away. They have two boys also, one two weeks apart from Stewie, the other two years older. They came for brunch last week]

So what do YOU want that mom says "FUCK, NO!" to?

I hate horses

...because every time I see them I fall in love with them all over again, and I want to have them again. And that sucks because I can afford neither the time, nor the energy, nor, of course, the money to venture down that road.

We were out at a family friend's farm for grandpa's birthday party and they had a two-week-old colt named Thunder.

"Hello, giant nose!"

Unrelated to horses, but: Harmzie & the BILs (and, well, Max, because he's not my BIL). They made a whirlwind trip in from Calgary for the occasion.

...Summer...?

...is that you?

Wowzers. You sure took your sweet effin time this year. Assuming this is you, of course.

Max & I were yesterday negotiating the day's chauffeuring duties - two dance classes for "picture day" [which only meant that there was extra fruffing to do just prior, and of course for some reason, having two girls in no way commits a man to know anything about putting in a pony tail. In fact, neither of us know how to do a French braid, but for some reason I am the one who needs to learn how to]

I said that I had a whole bunch of plants to put in the ground, as we received them from the girls' school on May 5th and they weren't doing very well in the dining room. We had lost several already.

He said "you're going to risk it out there?" I said "it's actually the frost day today" (May 23 is the statistical day when you can expect that there will be no more overnights below zero around here). He laughed at me. I responded that while, yes, the "summer" weather might be another bluff, they were probably better off taking their chances "out there" than with me. There was no more discussion on the point.

So yesterday and today were beautiful. I don't know the actual temperature, but I didn't have to wear three coats (fleece jackets, come on). I planned & planted & moved some stuff around. I checked the tags for height & spread (I always plant things way closer to each other than they say to, but I like to know how badly I'm breaking the rules) & dug stuff in. unfortunately, it still looks like a cluster-fuck. But it's another in the long list of things that I love to do and would be very good at if I would bother to focus any energy on them, but I don't so I suck at them but I still enjoy doing them.

So, remember the beach party? Well today we were finally able to take it out doors.

Giving the whined/begged options of:
(a) Super Soakers [I'd probably get wet - I hate getting wet];
(b) Blow up the pool [Hella-effort, minimal payoff. Also, I'd have to stand there the whole time, because of the, y'know, five inches of DEATH sitting there in the yard and all];
(c) Sprinkler [I'd definitely get wet, because I was trying to work there]
I chose (a), because I could make them all (army of neighbour kids involved too) go & have their Epic Battle on someone else's lawn. OUR yard would be the "neutral zone" (for refilling - brilliant, eh?)

My favourite thing I yelled out? "You can't have a water-gun battle and then complain about getting wet!" It wasn't to any of my kids, but it could have been.

And then the requisite sun-bathing afterwards. Please ignore the brown patches in the "lawn". We're working on that. Not very hard, but we're working.

Also? Tulips need Super Soaking. It's a known fact.

[I had a lovely shot of Pepper lounging on her beach blanket. Somewhere in editing this, it got eaten. The replacement is all the way downstairs. By the pose she was striking, it only really shows how much of a handful she will soon become & I don't need any more reminders of that than I already have]

I Hate Soccer

Actually, I hate all sports. And not for any other reason than I just don't get them.


But I sit here in a rapidly cooling field (thankfully with a wireless laptop. Have I ever mentioned that I love the wireless laptop? Have I ever mentioned how much? Never mind, I'll spare you) I am highly encouraged by the intensity and energy and extreme sportsmanship of these kids. The parents are actually pretty cool so far too. [That might just be wishful thinking on my part, as I have been named the RL or Ref's Liason for this game. I'm supposed to get thing under control should a parent start "throwing chairs onto the field" - coach's words. I said "what if it's me?" He didn't have an answer. Note to self: Don't throw chairs on the field.]

New Pork City

I can't make this stuff up.

Today we went to the girls' "Student-Led Conferences".

[Aside] I don't know if this is universal, or common - it sure didn't happen when I went to school. Rather than traditional parent-teacher interviews, the spring interview is the student showing what they've been up to so far in the year - it's really quite a set up. And awesome to see the pride with which they lead you around the room and demonstrate their skills.

Also, if I haven't mentioned it before, Norah & Pepper are in the same classroom - a Grades 1/2/3 blend class. And Nenette's LAM is in there too. That's important in a moment.

The girls - separately, they're in different grades and at different levels - guided us through their binders and read to us and showed us some "self-assessments". Really cool stuff. All kinds of parent-chest-busting-pride moments.

The coolest though, was a project that they've been buzzing about all spring session. We'd heard all kinds of tell of it. They were building a pig town (I believe it was an extension of the Three Little Pigs module of Learning. No really.)

Ladies & Gentlemen, I give you... New Pork City:

The power lines! The trees! (Notice that the four seasons are depicted.)

Somewhere in the distant past I recall talking about building the houses. Can't recall if it was here, Twitter, Facebook [problem much?] or possibly even Nen that mentioned it, but each kid was to build one from whatever material they wanted (I think LAM's was granola bars. Yum) and discuss the pros & cons of what they chose.

Our pros consisted of "Mom had this crap lying around the house". It was also the cons.

Here is Norah's house. It is made of match sticks from a "Build Crap With Matchsticks" kit. I don't know why we had that, but it has been on a shelf for years.

I apologize for the quality (I use the term loosely) of the photo. It was my camera phone. I guess I moved. You'll have to trust me when I say that the sign above the door says "Please Wipe Your Feet", in proportionally really large letters!

Here is Pepper's house. It was made of raffia. And a crap-load of glue. And a milk carton. I confess, I ran out and bought raffia. I didn't know how much we'd need for a pig house, so we now have a giant bag of raffia that I'll never use again.

Those are little terracotta pots with raffia crammed in them. I think Pepper had gone off to play Wii by this point.

OK, so there was one kind of creepy late addition to New Pork City [Did I mention that the kids came up with the name? They voted and everything. Very clever]. The kids decided to add a zoo. Except that because this is a pig city, the residents of the zoo would be people. And the kids made themselves up as said residents.

By some aligning of the planets, LAM & Pepper's appointments were at the same time. And the only two at that time (Norah's slot, for comparison, had four). So Nen, Roomie, LAM & Mini were there at the same time as our entire family.

Ensue numerous variations of "bend over and check out New Pork City!". I even heard "Pork... The One You Love!" and so on [does anyone not get that yet?]

Our sweet teacher who loves our kids dearly, well first she chuckled at us, then the giggles became a little more nervous. Then she left the classroom.