Parent-Teacher Interviews

Recently we attended Parent-Teacher Interview night at Maya's school. This is the evening where we go and listen to other adults tell us what a sweet, quiet, well-behaved, and brilliant daughter we have. Luckily for Eric and I, Maya's school does this twice a year. It's nice to have an evening like this tip the behaviour scale in Maya's favour. It more than makes up for the sassy attitude she cops at home.

Maya's classroom teacher is wonderful. She's sweet, kind, but very firm with Maya. She shared some of Maya's writing with us, which included one particularly sweet drawing of Eric and Maya on a "date" at Tim Horton's. Maya's attention to detail was remarkable: Dad was dressed in camo shorts, a black t-shirt, and a backwards baseball cap.

Her teacher went on to tell us all about what a great student Maya is. She told us how she relies on Maya to the "caboose" of the line when the class walks down the hall. Maya is quick to keep the other kids in line, telling the teacher when the arrive at their destination who was talking, running, or pushing. We had a good laugh at this, because we have long referred to Maya as our little hall monitor. She is sure to let us know when someone else breaks the rules!

"Ha ha ha, that's great! But does she have any friends?" I asked. I'm picturing Maya as an annoying little bossy pants, barking orders at her peers. Mrs. D assured me that she does, in fact, have lots of friends. She's never alone at play time and all the kids want to play with her.

After we met with her classroom teacher, Eric and Maya wandered upstairs to find her reading teacher while Ben and I popped into the pre-K classroom to check things out. Maya's school starts pre-K at 3.5 (which Ben will be in the fall) and I wanted to know how to get him enrolled.

We walked into the pre-K room Ben's eyes got very large. The toys and books and puzzles were a little overwhelming, I think. He kept turning around and taking a step towards one thing and then stop and see something else and start heading in another direction. He finally settled on the kitchen and got to work making soup with a whole chicken with a side of scrambled eggs and pizza. Looks like all the time spent watching Food TV are paying off.

The pre-K teacher was lovely and encouraging. She watched Ben play and asked him a few questions. She said he was a very cute, sweet little boy. I can't say I disagree with her. We put Ben's name on a list for her to call when they open up registration in a few months. Keep your fingers crossed that he gets a spot in the class!

It took some skill to get Ben out of that magical room, but the lure of real cookies down the hall finally did the trick. We stopped to chat with a woman at a display about ordering boxes of fresh, local fruits and vegetables. I was asking her questions about the program when it all came crashing down.

Literally.

Ben had crawled underneath the table while I was talking to the woman and one table leg buckled, sending her perfectly arranged display of pamphlets, information, photographs, water, and veggies sliding to the hallway floor. Luckily Ben wasn't hurt. He was just so embarrassed that all he could do is stand there and cover his face. The woman wasn't concerned about her display, thankfully, she wanted to make sure Ben was ok. And he was. Physically. Once I got everything picked up, dried off, and rearranged I was able to get the poor little guy out of the scene of the crime and talk to him. He came around once he saw the cookies. I'm fairly sure he immediately forgot all about the table incident. Cookies have a similar amnesia-inducing effect on me in that I immediately forget how many I've eaten.

It wouldn't be a Whitbread family outing without at least one thing being broken and somebody in tears. I'm just glad it wasn't me for once.

Sunday Morning Phone Calls

Most days when the phone rings at our house, we all try to avoid answering it. I can't put my finger on why exactly we dodge the phone because we do enjoy talking to our friends and family so far away. But the fact is, as soon as the phone rings on most days we all shout "NOT IT!" and immediately try to look busier than each other in an attempt to evade the telephone.

Most days that is.

But not on Sundays.

When the phone rings on Sunday mornings it turns into a pushing, shoving, screaming race between Maya and Ben to pick up the phone first. When the phone rings on Sunday mornings they fight to answer the phone because they know it's Grammy and Grampa calling. On Sunday mornings, instead of everyone shouting "NOT IT!" we all shout "it's GRAMMY!"

It should be noted here that Eric and I stopped fighting for the phone first because even if we do reach the receiver before the short people in the house we can't have a decent conversation for the shouting in the background:

"Can I talk to Grammy? Is it my turn yet? I want to talk to Grampa! Can I talk on the phone now? How about now? It it my turn now? Can I have a turn? Why can't I have a turn? I want to talk to Grammy and Grampa! I want to talk to Grammy and Grampa! I want to talk to Grammy and Grampa!"

"Me talk? Me talk? My turn? Me talk? My turn? I talk now? I talk to Grammy? Me talk? I talk to Papa? Me talk? My turn now?"

So we just stand back and let them duke it out politely talk about who goes first. Maya usually wins this "discussion".

Maya prattles on to Grammy and Grampa about her week, telling them the minute, intricate details about her week, the books she reading, what she did during the week, things she is looking forward to in the next week.

They talk about how freezing cold it is outside here in Saskatchewan and how pretty Grammy's flowers are in BC. Grammy really likes to rub it in that they can be outside without risk of frostbite. Maya really likes to rub it in that it hardly ever rains here. 

Ben tells Grammy and Grampa all about his toys, his favourite blanket, and the cat. He tries to show them things in his bedroom; he's only three and doesn't understand that Grammy and Grampa can't see him over the phone. They ask him all sorts of questions about his week. He babbles on and on. I'm sure Grammy and Grampa don't understand most of what Ben says, but they love to listen and chat with him.

Today, Grampa was really funny.

Being the sweet boy that he is, Ben often tries to pass the phone to the cat next. That's when I swoop in and rescue Grammy and Grampa.

They don't speak Catonese.

I try to hide away in my bedroom to chat with my mom because even though Ben and Maya have just had their turn on the phone and had been functioning just fine without my help all morning up to this point, they need my attention. NOW. I don't understand what it is about holding a phone to the side of my head that suddenly renders my children completely helpless. They require my assistance, my attention, my refereeing skills, my opinion on the economic crisis, my next breath. I tried talking to my mom about it one Sunday morning. I think she said something about how my siblings and I were the same way, but I couldn't quite hear her over the din of my children clambering for my attention.

The magic of a Grammy phone call is strong enough to overcome the family's phonephobia (that's a real word, google it) for one morning only. The next time the phone rings we are all back to calling out "NOT IT!"

Until the subsequent Sunday morning, that is.

An Afternoon Spent Sledding

Or, Why I Shouldn't Ever Need a Gym Membership in Winter

 It's Winter Break here in the arctic tundra Saskatchewan, which means a blissful week free of marking, commuting, and early mornings. A week to sleep in late (7am), lounge around (catch up on laundry), and spend quality time the fam damily.

 
This afternoon we decided to go sledding. Looking outside and seeing the bright shining sun we thought it would be a perfect afternoon to spend outside. Windchills of -28C won't keep us inside, we're Canadian! We don't wait for warmer days, we brave the wintry weather with smiles frozen on our faces!



Getting myself and my two kids ready to brave the boreal weather is no small feat. The task of finding enough toques, mitts, scarves, snow pants, etc. to prevent frostbite and whining is enough to exhaust anyone, never mind the job of stuffing everyone into said toques, mitts, scarves, snow pants, etc.



By the time everyone was dressed, I was sweating, panting, and weary, and we hadn't even stepped outside the door.

I sent the kids outside to play in the snow fort Eric built last week and I ran around the house like the madwoman, grabbing the truck keys, the camera, and some batteries.

 I made my way outside, helped Maya get the snow tubes in the back of the truck, wrestled the kids into their seats, and we were off! And it only took 45 minutes!

I was so warm from just getting ready and being layered in my winter gear that my sunglasses fogged up.

We got to the sledding hill and Maya and Ben cheered. We were the only ones there! We had free reign over the hill. We could slide like crazy people in all directions without having to worry about running in to anyone else. Suh-weet!

Then we opened the truck door and realized why nobody else was there. It was ridiculously cold. The wind was so biting I had an instant brain freeze.

But hey, we're Canadian! We don't wait for warmer days to go play! We brave the wintry weather with smiles frozen on our faces!

Maya jumped on her snow tube and rushed down the hill. Or, at least, she *tried* to rush down the hill. Her tube stopped half way down the hill. I plunked Ben on his tube and gave him a push. He didn't make it as far as his sister.

Being the good mother that I am, I laughed hysterically at my sweet children stuck on the hill.

Don't worry, I helped them back up the hill. Eventually.

We attempted a few more slides down the hill, but the 40 km/h winds and fresh snow proved too much for my two light weights. They never did make it all the way to the bottom of the hill. After 5 minutes of unsuccessful, freezing-arse-cold sledding effort, I convinced Maya and Ben that we should head home by bribing them with offering a pleasant alternative activity: hot chocolate at home. They were really excited about this idea.



Or not.

The stripping of winter layers thankfully took less time than putting on the layers. All told, it was nearly an hour to get dressed and undressed for 5 minutes of sledding. Right now Maya and Ben are colouring happily, warm and content with bellies full of hot chocolate. I'm exhausted and spent, needing another cup of coffee.



I'm thinking next time the kids want to go sledding I'll trade spots with Eric. He can brave the wintry weather with a smile frozen on his face. I'll spend the afternoon the way he did - having a long winter's nap.







Saturday Morning Pancakes

Parenting experts say that kids thrive on routine. Apparently those short little people are happier when they know what's coming up next. And who am I to argue with the experts? They *must* know more about raising kids than I do. This doesn't say much, however. I'm sure our family cat knows more about raising kids than I do. But he doesn't speak English and I don't speak Catonese. So I (sometimes) listen to the English speaking parenting experts.

In an attempt to build routine into our crazy, hectic week, I instituted Saturday Morning Pancakes. We sit together, talk about our week, and share a meal. And really, what better way to establish a routine than a sticky sugar high? In 10 easy steps, here is our Saturday morning routine according to Ben:

1. Wake up Mom far before a respectable hour by sweetly singing "Maaaaaaammmmmaaaa!"

2. Scream "MAMA! MOM! MOM! MOM! MAMA!" when she doesn't respond within 3.2 seconds.

3. Help Mom make coffee by pressing the button on the coffee grinder, spilling the fresh ground coffee all over the counter, and pressing the ON button seventeen times on the coffee maker. Throw up your hands and shout "TADAAA!"

4. Cling onto Mom's legs while she makes pancakes. Oscillate between asking for and refusing cups of milk.

5. Get naked. Put on a bib. Pancakes are finger food, man, and they are messy.

6. Eat 2 pancakes. Feed your hair some syrup.

7. Shout "aaaaaaahhhhh!" (me) and raise you hand when Mom asks "who wants more pancakes?"

8. Refuse to eat any more pancakes unless fed from Mom's plate. Smear syrup all over yourself, your tray, and your Mom as she tries to feed you. Throw syrup covered bowls at the cat.

9. Have a bath. Soak everything within a five foot radius.

10. Smile sweetly at Mom and wonder why she's exhausted so early in the day.