Teachable moments

The best part of my summer was having Shaune at home.

A home feels complete and balanced when one person is allowed to focus solely on it and the kids while the other person can focus solely on work. And if the working person takes on some of the routines in the evenings and weekends, well then you really have something. I tried to imagine a more ideal scenario but couldn’t.

Okay, that’s not completely true.

Ideally we would have someone come in to cook and clean. And iron. Oh, and run through sight words with Deaglan a few nights a week because I’m learning that I’m just not cut out for the patience it takes to teach a little person how to read. Come to think of it, I could also use a hand doing my hair in the mornings. I’ve painted myself into a corner with this new cut and frankly, I’m exhausted. So is the blow dryer and straightener.

I worked from home yesterday so I could be flexible for the first day of school. Both kids did great and I think, so did Shaune. He said it was surprising how much more respectful and not mouthy the teenagers are when they know you’re their full-time legitimate teacher versus just a supply.

One of the educators at Naveen’s daycare asked me if I was sick. Before I could answer, she continued by clarifying that she was only asking because my face looked tired and swollen. That’s likely the last time I’ll make eye contact with her. Coincidentally, I’ve looked into the curriculum for the Early Childhood Education program over at the college. I’m seriously thinking about lobbying to make Social Skills 101 mandatory in the first year.

Unfortunately I don’t know when I’ll find the time.

It’s five in the morning and this is the only time I could find to update my blog. I did however, remember to take a picture of the kids yesterday. I even made a sign. I also reminded both of them that they were to listen to their teachers and be good and kind people. 

I thought hard about reminding Naveen again that he was not allowed to say “What the fuck”, but decided against it. I think I made my point the day before. I’d even patted myself on the back when Deaglan piped in to really cement my teachable moment. In a wise older-brother way, he told Naveen that those kinds of words were pretty bad and that he had to wait until he was a teenager to be able to use them but even then he could only say them to himself or his friends. Never teachers. Never bosses. And never ever to Mommy and Daddy.

It’s nice when you can witness first-hand the fruits of your parenting labor. Don’t you think?

I don't even know why I bother to ask them to smile. Naveen decided that this was his new "cweepy, picture face."

 

I also found these pictures on the camera.

 

Deaglan lost his first tooth and got five bucks from the Tooth-fairy. I don't see any hopes of us becoming a single-income family any time soon. Five bucks!

If Shaune isn't thinking about us or work, then he's thinking about Hallloween. I'm not sure when he took this but I'm not surprised. Both my boys have inherited the "Halloween should be a national holiday" gene. Naveen could imitate a Zombie even before he could fully pronounce his own name. My husband was never more proud.

A constant reminder

I almost never miss an episode of Intervention.

After Matthew died, I stopped watching it for a full year. One of our last conversations became heated because I’d said the wrong thing. I’m sorry now that I didn’t push past the discomfort of having him so angry at me. I wished I’d hung on, gotten to the softer side of it; maybe opened him up a bit.

On the surface my comment was so innocent. He was telling me about a new friend staying with him, and the situation reminded me of something I’d seen on Intervention the night before so I told him about the episode.

Inside though, the more he described their relationship, the more my panic rose.

On some subconscious level I must have brought up the show on purpose; a passive aggressive confrontation.

I wish I’d been more forceful with my opinions, more insistent that he get help. I wish I’d not let him talk me out of taking things more seriously every single time something like that happened.

I know I wanted to believe there was nothing I could do to help him.

It’s not that I like the stories – I watch with bated breath every week. It’s not a mindless escape like Parenthood or Law and Order. I watch out of fear. A need to know that there is a reason things turn out the way they do. I wait for that part of the show, after they’ve cursorily described the addiction, exposed a few clips of the person using; the part where they go back to the beginning.

The history.

The mother usually says something like, the happiest day of my life was when she was born. She was the sweetest most beautiful baby and I could rarely get through the grocery store without people stopping me to comment how adorable she was. Then they get to the parents’ relationship, how things were blissful at the beginning and a few years later one of the parents start drinking or drugging again. Everything changes.

I look for this part. I need it. It’s when I breathe a sigh of relief. It confirms for me that there was a reason the addict went down the road they did. They didn’t just end up like this for nothing. It gives me some hope.

I know that sounds demented.

The story doesn’t always go this way though. Sometimes the person hooked on booze or meth is suffering from a mental illness, something no one ever diagnosed them with. I find this as heartbreaking as when one of their parents wrecked their childhood with their addictions.

I won’t pretend to know how an addiction can impact the person directly afflicted. It’s easy for me to stop drinking after one or two glasses of wine. I don’t like feeling drunk or out of control especially since I’ve had my boys. Life rarely seems unbearable. I can mostly handle it even if I don’t always like it.

I know so many people who aren't as fortunate. Maybe that's why I hardly ever miss Intervention. Maybe it's not about me.

We went to see Hotel Transylvania  in full costume today. These are last year's getups and although this year Naveen will trick-or-treat as a monkey and Deaglan a knight, they both insisted on these. 

To all of my blogging buddies, I know I've been a terrible friend. I'll be around to see what you've been up to soon!

What I wished I'd written and Halloween pictures

Lately there's been no time to write. Not even in my mind.

I hate that. 

Earlier in the week I wanted to tell you about Naveen's favourite word - cup. It sounds more like cap when he says it. He's obsessed with them. Especially the ones we're drinking from. Shaune finally learned to ask for an extra one at Tim Horton's. It sure does let you enjoy your coffee more. He just walks around holding that cup and chanting capcapcapcap.

And the other day when Deaglan accused me of calling him names because I said "Quit dilly dallying," I immediately thought of you. I knew you'd all get a kick out of that one. Also it's November and I signed up for NaNoWriMo again this year. But you know what I did last night when I finally could sit down with an hour to myself? I sipped on a glass of red wine and read my book - House Rules. 

Have you noticed my header? 

I haven't even gotten around to taking any Novemberish pictures to put up there. Maybe this weekend. Here are some pictures from Halloween.

 Gramma and Grampa came over on Sunday to carve pumpkins.

 We snapped some shots before it got dark and drizzly.

We made it all the way around the block. Deaglan asked to go home after the third house. We persevered. And most importantly? Enough kids came to our door that there are no Reese Peanut Butter cups left.

I have no self-control when it comes to chocolate and peanut butter.

The hard part of parenting

Much earlier today, two in the morning-ish, I took stock of my life. I had Deaglan in the crook of one arm scrunched in close while Naveen snored softly on my other side. For an instant I felt sorry for myself wondering when I’d ever get a full night’s rest again.

My self-pity didn’t last long.

Truth is, from the moment I met them, the inevitability that they’d someday leave has never been far from my thoughts; a thrum and dull ache reminding me to drink this all in. Too easily I fast forward my life, the way old micro fiche machines flip through archived newspaper articles, stopping to read the headlines:

Age 15 Teenagers Hole up in Bedrooms to Escape Always-Wrong Irritating Parents!

Age 19 Big Move to University Town to Taste Sweet Freedom!

Age 25 Too Busy Career-Building to Come Home!

I’ve been gifted (cursed?) with the awareness of how fleeting all this is. I know that as full as my arms are today, they will ache with emptiness again. That even the hardest parts – lack of sleep, picky eating, the tantrums, even these will seem like nothing compared to the hardship of letting them fly.

Of letting them go.

Shaune and I are sometimes foolhardy enough to try and scheme ways to outsmart the system: Last night we were wondering how we’d take the news when someday one or both of our boys announced that they’d be spending Thanksgiving with the families of their wives.

“Hopefully, their wives are estranged from their parents.” Shaune offered.

“Yes!” I agreed. “Maybe Deaglan and Naveen will be married to orphans!”

Old Navy had their costumes half-off this week. Although Deaglan will actually be a ghost this Halloween, he's insisted on sleeping in this every night since we brought it home. And although this is the best shot we could get of Naveen, there are little dragon wings and a dragon tail on his back that make it hard for us to want to take this costume off of him. Even when he's made it clear he's had enough of being our entertainment.