Posts Tagged: grandparents

Good mother.

My Mom is one of those Moms.

I got out of bed the other morning at the sound of my 4-year-old trotting down the hallway. When I turned the corner to find her, I nearly bumped into my Mom. She had stayed overnight to help me with the girls while my husband had to work a late night.

This is what my Mom does. She helps me.

I went to get my daughter her cereal. “I think I hear Lauren. I’ll go get her,” Mom says as she walks towards my two-year-old’s room.

When they come out to greet us, Lauren is clinging to my Mom like a baby monkey. She’s tired and sleepy-eyed and not ready to take on the day yet. She wants a snuggle with the woman she has bonded so closely with already.

And why wouldn’t she? Grandma is always here when I need her. Grandma’s always there for the girls, too.

I smile at them and think about all the times Mom’s been there for me.

Running her fingers through my hair when I was home sick with a cold. Writing simple notes and hiding them in my lunch bag for school. Attending every single performance of every single dance recital I was in. (Not just one showing per year – but all 4 shows that were all. the. exact. same.) Telling me I looked nice before I left for school. Smiling like the best thing had ever happened to her, just because I walked into a restaurant to greet her for dinner. Reminding me over and over again that I’m a good mother. Showing up at my house in her pajamas for a pj day with my daughters. Helping me with the children whenever I need them. No matter what.

“Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll feed the girls?” she asks.

I snap out of my daydream and go about my morning. I am happy knowing I don’t have to rush. I won’t start the day feeling tense.

We’re a long way away from my awkward, irritable teen years. When my eyes rolled almost daily at the thought of something – anything – she had done.

Now I know. I know the value of her love. Her patience. Her caring. I can understand why she felt the way she did. I know why she would smile at me like I was the best little human that ever existed to her.

I carry on with my day, relaxed and at ease.

And I am grateful. I am so, so grateful.

 

About the Author:

Heather Dixon is a copywriter at Mabel’s Labels, a smoothie aficionado, a runner, a wife and a Mom to two – soon to be three! – highly advanced little girls (according to her husband and her).

Why I Avoid Reading

 

I recently had the opportunity to read a book. As a busy, working mom of six, it was a rare occasion. We were at the cottage for a week and my kid had been nagging me to read her favourite novel, The Hunger Games. Surprisingly, I got really into it and had a hard time putting it down.

 

It’s difficult to be negative about reading. It is valuable to read to and with our children, and it is important that they see us read. I was raised by an avid reader. My dad read constantly and as soon as one book was done, he was on to the next. It was amazing in so many ways – he had so much knowledge to share and provided us with a home filled with beautiful books. We talked about books and Dad would spontaneously quote from novels, plays and poems whenever he had the chance. He had a love of words. Several of us kids went on to study literature at university.

 

While I was stuck into that book at the cottage, my kids would buzz around asking for snacks or wanting my attention. I found myself shooing them away saying “Let me just finish this chapter”, hoping they’d be distracted long enough so I could start the next one.

 

It reminded me of being a child and watching my dad read his books. There were many times he was reading when he really should have been engaging with us. Indeed, there were times it seemed his books were more important. Family game night often meant Mom playing with us, while Dad sat in the other room reading. There were times I thought this was selfish and maybe I was even a little jealous of his books.

 

Because reading is smart and noble, I think it’s a hobby that is not only forgiven, but praised. If my dad had been on his iPad or iPhone all that time, it would have been unacceptable. There are many times my kids have to occupy themselves because I’m working on my laptop. There are other times I’m distracted by other things. Do I think kids need undivided attention? Absolutely not. It’s good for kids to see parents work and relax. We want them to have the ability to entertain themselves. But it just got me wondering why certain activities are more forgivable than others. The effect is the same.

 

I kind of didn’t like who I became when I was so wrapped up in my book at the cottage. I think for the next while, I’ll stick mostly to reading with my kids because I get the sneaking suspicion that the day will soon come when I can do all the reading I want and I’ll wish I was being interrupted for a snack.

My DD dressed up as Katniss Everdeen.

“I See Dead People”

By the time I had my sixth kid, I figured I had this parenting thing wrapped up.

Well, this cheeky toddler has knocked me square off my parenting high horse. One of our babysitters describes him as an adorable weirdo. One of his weirdo things is that every night for the last six months, he has insisted upon falling asleep on the family room floor. I later transport him to a suitable floor upstairs when I head to bed. Maybe it’s not a big deal, but for this “establish good bedtime routines and habits” mama, this sleeping on the floor stuff is outrageous!

What’s strange about it is why it started happening. During the Christmas holidays, we stayed in an old farmhouse that belonged to Daddy-o’s deceased grandparents. The house sits empty unless family members wish to have a farm stay. Not all will stay there because of the stories and rumours that it is possibly haunted.

I didn’t let those rumours deter me – when a family of our size can stay somewhere for free, we don’t turn it down. On about the third night, my little guy woke up in his crib screaming in a way that made me run so fast my feet didn’t touch the ground. I rescued him from his crib, resettled him then went back to bed a little confused. Next night, the same thing happened, except this time there was no way he would go in the crib or the room. I took him into the family room, fell asleep on the couch and he fell asleep on his little blanket on the floor beside me. He has remained on a floor ever since.

I spent the next morning shaking my head in confusion. He was not unwell and his mood was otherwise fine. Daddy-o finally solved the mystery for me when he got a sheepish look and said: “I think he saw the ghost”. Suddenly, everything made sense and this non-believer started re-thinking my ideas on the subject. Thanks to that pesky ghost, all my perfect baby routines have gone down the crapper and I have a toddler who is a floor dweller.

Have you had an experience that has turned you into a believer? I’ve heard that children and animals may be more sensitive and aware of this kind of activity. Is it true?

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