When a Parents Says: “You Can Go Play With Your Neighbour AFTER Lunch”, Here is What a Child Hears…


On the weekend our children get up nice and early.  6am, usually, but 5am is not out of the question.

I believe we have convinced them not to come wake us (or each other) at that time, but I could be very wrong about that since they may not come and wake us up, but they certainly wake us through playing, talking and laughing.

Aside: Parents – How many of you also have become light sleepers as a result of your kids walking, talking, crying, calling, etc., in the middle of the night?

So after a 5:30am wake-up and plenty of playing around the house, my daughter Boo decided that she HAD to go visit our neighbour 2-doors down for a playdate.  These girls have become best friends, they go to the same school, were in the same class and we would walk to school together in the mornings.

But at 8am, it’s not nice to knock on someone’s door and invite yourself in.

“After lunch.” We told her.

“You can have a playdate with the neighbour, but after lunch.”

What she and her brother Stewie heard is a completely different story…

10 minutes later, the front door opened and by the time I got to the door, I saw Stewie entering the neighbours house, with no sign of Boo.

“Stewie!” I called out.  “Where is Boo?”

“Inside” he yelled back.

“Absolutely not!” I replied.  “It’s 8 o’clock in the morning and I said you had to wait until after lunch!  Get Boo and come back home!”


Both kids came back home and were greeted at the door by myself and my wife.

“What are you doing?” I asked.  “We said you could not go until after lunch.  It is only 8 o’clock in the morning!”

“We just finished lunch” was Boo’s reply.  “We ate breakfast at 6am, and were hungry again, so we just ate lunch.  You said we could go after lunch.”

Yes.

Yes, we did.

 

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When Did They Get To Be So Big. So Devious!


The other night I fell asleep on the couch. Again. Not surprising either, since it’s tax season, I’m super-busy up late working away (not complaining!) and with a steady flow of children who want to see/talk to/sleep with mummy, I wouldn’t be sleeping anyways.

At some point in the night – I think between 1am and 4am – I dozed off, with the TV on, and my laptop still on my lap when one of my children came downstairs, grabbed my iPhone, logged in using my password, snapped a picture of me and then sent it to my sister via text or BBM.

Of course, the next day they all denied it.

I would never have known had my sister not sent me the picture back.

Time for better passwords!

Or an electric fence.

#Parenting
#WatchYourBack

Happy 6th Birthday Stewie!


Happy Birthday
Happy 6th Birthday Stewie!

Stewie!

Finally you are 6-years-old today (tonight to be more specific). Wow.

To be honest, it kind of feels like you’ve been 6 for a long time already.   You and you almost 8-year-old brother are often mistaken for twins.  You eat the most at one seating than your family, including me, and I’ve been known to pack back the food in my day.  You are strong like a bull, like your father, which you proved to us and a bunch of 6-year-old’s when you singlehandedly helped your team win a tug-of-war where you were the anchor.  You are driven, determined, serious, focussed and everything else that people look at and follow up with “wow”.  Quite frankly if I didn’t see your birth with my own eyes, I would have thought you were switched at birth.

I mean you are the reason why I herniated the disc in my back – because until you were 10 months old, you refused to sleep more than 2-3 hours at a time.  I carried you morning, noon and night – even though all you wanted was food and mummy.   Mummy also had Linus to take care of, so it was me or the cry-way.  Tough luck for you!   You were stuck with me.

Looking back now I should have known how you would be at 6-years-old… When you were born – a planned home birth – your breathing was shallow so the mid-wives stepped out of our bedroom to call 911 (forgetting that our parents were on the main floor listening and becoming quite worried – I remember my mother calling me as the mid-wives were explaining that calling for backup just in case was a standard practice from babies with shallow breathing – asking me if everything was alright because she heard the call, whereas we did not.  But after seeing what you did when you were given oxygen by the mid-wives – you ripped the tube from your mouth over and over again, we all knew you would be just fine!  You didn’t want it.  You didn’t need it.  You didn’t have it.

Fast forward to today and you are the same size and weight as your 7-year-old brother.  You look older than you are, you act older than you are and you have an old soul who comes across as a kind, compassionate boy who asks really great questions – some not so great mind you (If Big Show fought all the birds in the world, who would win?).

You love school but get frustrated that you’re not learning fast enough – like after the 2nd day when you wanted to quit school because you were colouring with crayons and you could do that at home, you certainly didn’t need to go to school for that – and you get frustrated when your classmates talk during class or (gasp) try to talk to you when there is work to be done.  You also somehow failed to mention to us last year that you were reading at a beginning grade 2 level when you were finishing senior kindergarten.  You excel at karate and swimming.  You are a trusting friend until someone does you wrong, then you have a memory of an elephant, yet your big brother is your best friend and your worst enemy at the same time.  You two fight, then within a few minutes you’ve made up and are playing together again like nothing happened.

You have a very strong sense of justice, and as a result you always protect your brother and sister and I’ve often told the story about how, when you were 2-years-old, a 6-year-old boy took your brother’s balloon. After he had asked for it back, unsuccessfully, you stepped in and grabbed this boy by the shirt, looked him in the eyes and said “I’m going to throw you in the garbage!”  He handed you the balloon and quickly walked away.  You passed that balloon to your brother and went on playing like nothing happened.

You are a piano whiz, and you said you want to try the violin and learn your way up, trying all the string instruments, until you get to the big ones, like a cello.

When asked what you want to be when you grow up, you replied with; “Everything!” I finally got you to confirm it was because you wanted to know what you would really be good at want to do for the rest of your life.

When I blog about things you have said, like punching G-d, my hits go through the roof.  You’re very funny, and the reason we started a Twitter account for you, called @LittleBoyPurple which we don’t update any more, but you probably will one day because you’re a hoot!

So, son, I want to wish you a very happy 6th birthday.  I love you and please, keep feeding me the material, and let me know when that middle child syndrome has set in.  🙂

Thursday Thirteen – You know you have lost touch with the adult world when…


Hello to my happy readers. As my 2-year-old daughter Berry would say with much excitement in her voice, “You came back!!!”.  For those of you who are first time readers, welcome, feel free to come back at any time, and if you’ve come here accidentially, thanks for the hit and please come back unless you are looking for Santa Claus porn. 

Because I’m a giant loser, I find myself not needing to dip into the almost 80 blog posts sitting in my draft folder for this weeks Thursday Thirteen, but instead I felt compelled to reach out to my readers with kids and form a bond.

Below you will find the 13 ways in which I realized I have lost touch with the adult world.

Sit tight and here we go.

13. I saw what appeared to be 2 hookers walking through the side streets near Eglinton and Allen Road last night in mid-town Toronto, on my way home from the office – probably heading to one of the many massage places with neon lights that light up on the very quiet Eglinton strip (pun intended) after dark.

For some reason even I cannot explain, I began singing this following song – out loud – in my car, to the tune of the Dora the Explorer theme;

Do do do DO do DO do… Hookers.
Do do do DO do DO do… Hookers.
Hookers, hookers, HOOKERS on Eglinton.
Hookers…

If you know the theme, you know what I mean.

12. I sit down in front of the television infrequently and instead of checking out the regular stations, Ch22 – Sportsnet, Ch30 TSN, Ch53 Headline sports and Ch 418 the NHL network, my fingers immediately press ch65 which is Treehouse TV.  A bad habit indeed because once the kids catch a glimpse of one of their shows the begging begins.

11. Like my kids, I have found myself not caring about the colour of my socks when I head into the office. It used to be black socks for everything unless I’m wearing blue pants, then it would be blue socks and brown socks for brown pants but because my kids regularly wear, for example, an orange shirt, with green pants and red socks, I’m feeling their vibe. I’m not sure those without kids would understand other than to think I’m  losing my mind.

10. I heard a song by Anthrax called “I’m Alive” which I really love right now but instead of singing that I find myself singing a children song that has words in it like, Syria, Oman, Pakistan… and what’s worse about this is that Stewie played it for me on my birthday saying “It’s daddy’s favourite song”. He knows it and I don’t. DOH!

9. I needed to move an icon from my iPad into a folder and ended up giving it to Linus to close off once I finally figured out how to move it – UrbanMummy showed me how to move them but not how to turn it off.  He knew without hesitation.

8. I needed to get through a level of Plants Vs. Zombies but couldn’t figure out how, so I gave it to Linus and Stewie and they had it done in 2 games. That used to be me…

7. I need to make more guy’s nights out to talk about real world topics not having to do with, or involving diapers, trips, programs or any more to deal with a vasectomy.

6. I have read over 1000 children’s books in the past year, and precisely 1 pleasure book for my interest and it was a Dan Brown book which I polished off in just under 2 weeks.

5. Before my ball-hockey game on Monday night, instead of my normal pre-game ritual of pasta, Advil, tums/rolaids, stretching and very loud aggressive rock to get my mind focussed, I took tips from Linus (who hates hockey and has seen me play twice) and his tips WORKED!   In honour of Ron Simmons who is going into the WWE Hall of Fame, I say this; “DAMN”.

4. See the previous discussion about my kids clothing “style” and wonder why it is that I ask them if my clothes match in the morning before I leave for the office.  That’s like me asking Urban Mummy who tells me I look fine when the room is pitch black and she cannot see me, and is the first to comment when I arrive home at the ned of the day with; “You wore THAT to work today?!?”

3.  As Daddy carpool, I take my kids to karate, swimming, parties, Beavers and any other kid only or family outing (like trips to sleepyville) and I am unable to yell or swear at other cars, bikes or people.  I also am banned from singing in the car or listening to my music. 

2.  I spend so much time in the children’s rooms at night – bedtime routine is happily my task – that my daughter has said to me repeatedly, “You have no bed.  Stewie in Stewie’s bed, Linus in Linus’ bed, Mummy in mummy’s bed and Berry in Berry’s big girl bed.  you have no bed.”  No matter how many times I have tried to convince her than mummy and daddy sleep in the same bed she won’t buy it because she never sees me there.  She’s 2.  Yet, I try to convince her over and over again.  Why is that?  It’s a giant waste of time with a 7-year-old, let alone a 2-year-old.

1.  I spend my days waking up at 6am when the kids get up.  I wipe butts, I smell hands, I smell stinky breath, I deal in diapers (thankfully no more poo).  I cook on demand, entertain on demand, feed on demand.  I’m their bitch.  I keep the TV low at night when watching sports.  I have not watched a movie which has suggestive content, the potential for nudity or swearing or inappropriate TV in 7 years.  What’s up with that?

Happy 5th Birthday Stewie!


Happy 5th birthday to my son I call “Stewie” here in Urbandaddyville.  🙂

We were so happy when you turned 4 because you were as big as a 4-year-old and no one believed that you were 3.  Now that you are 5 you look like you are 6.  You and your 6-year-old brother share the same the same size shirts and pants, and you’re 4cm shorter than him. 

You wanted a bag of marbles for your birthday and you got it.

You wanted a magician for your birthday (but not Tricky Ricky) and you wanted cupcake decorating at our home but just yesterday you asked us if you could have your party at Active Kids Zone.  Your party is Tuesday.  There are 24 kids coming.  It’s too late to make these changes, and we’re not using AKZ since they refused to refund our money for a camp that your brother was sick for.

You went this afternoon to write your journal.

The worse your brother behaves, the better you do.

You have developed a bond with your baby sister because you can boss her around and she loves it.

You told us school was boring – after 2 days – because all they made you do was colour.

You have not slept through the night or in your own bed for the last 5 months.

You’re awesome!

We love you.  Happy Birthday.