Patio Project (this one's for my Dad)

My Dad loves projects and always likes to make sure we have some sort of chore for him to take on when he and my Mum come to visit. So this update is for him.

(Speaking of projects, this summer I'm hoping to tackle some of my "decorating" ideas from way back when in Design Week at Mosey House. And more. I'll plan on some Before and Afters as I get to them. If I get to them.)

Our back garden is a fairly steep hillside jungle. Over the years we've fenced it (to keep out the deer, much as we love 'em), cut trails through it, constructed a treehouse (which English Hubby built for Sweetpea, supposedly), and terraced small areas. We like the jungle feel, and now that Sweetpea is not a wobbly toddler, it's great to see her traverse every foot of it, make little areas her own, and climb the trees a little too high for my comfort. But for a while we've wanted a second patio area to capture the afternoon sun (bistro chairs and table, or lounge chair?) and have a place for big pots of herbs and citrus trees.

While we've been building and planting the vegetable garden over the past month, we've also been prepping the new patio area, excavating and leveling it. Our quarry stone was delivered this week, my husband carried all the sand and most of the stones up our stairs (I know your back hurts just thinking about it, Dad) and today we started.

It was trickier than we expected especially since both of us were running on half a night's sleep, but at the end of the day we had finished about a third of it. By next weekend we hope to finish, as well as two adjoining areas - a pathway in front of the vegetable garden wall, and replacing the stone steps leading up from our first patio.

We're completely exhausted, but feeling pretty pleased with ourselves so far.

Here's what Sweetpea kept herself busy with for most of the day, bless her, except when she would occasionally come outside to check on our progress and take a whack at some stones with the mallet.

Tactical Error

I made one of those (admittedly minor) parenting blunders today that is making me feel like a total piece of poo.

Image courtesy Hollywood Stories

Sweetpea has been enthralled with Mary Poppins for the last two weeks. When I say enthralled, if you have children you know I mean that she has watched the film about eleventy hundred times since the first viewing. Like I did before her, she loves it. She knows most of the songs by heart already, affects a pretty darn good Cockney accent, and asked if we can get the books out of the library. As well as loving the film, I read every single one of the Mary Poppins books repeatedly when I was young. They completely captured my imagination and spurred my absolute belief that characters like Mary Poppins were REAL.

How could you not love a nanny who sang songs and created tea parties in mid-air and jumped with you into sidewalk chalk drawings where there were dancing penguins and then let you hang out with chimney sweeps on rooftops and breathe in carcinogenic charcoal dust?

Today Sweetpea watched all the extras on the DVD and was very interested in the process of how they made the film. She kept running to me with updates:

Mumma! When they went up in the air? To have their tea party? They were on ropes!
For real that's how they got up in the air!
Don't you think Mary Poppins has a beautiful voice
and Bert has his funny style?

So when she later came to chat while I was immersed in household chores, I didn't think twice when she asked if Mary Poppins was still alive. I said yes - since it's true that the inimitable Julie Andrews is indeed alive and well - and I reminded Sweetpea of the lady who was interviewed about when she played Mary Poppins.

Screeching of brakes.

Mary Poppins isn't real, Mumma? Bottom lip quivers, brow furrows, shiny tears well up.

Crap.

I start to mentally slap myself repeatedly in the face, wondering what other childhood dreams I can crush while we're at it. Santa? The tooth fairy? (she hasn't even lost a tooth yet). Gee, sorry honey, could I perhaps stomp on a defenseless puppy too and show you how heartless I really am?

She bounced back easily enough after I promised her chocolate milk with lunch (can we say guilt bribe?), although every once in a while a nonchalant question pops up

Is Mrs. Banks a lady in a costume?
Was the bird lady in a costume?
Do you think she was a younger lady dressed up or was she really old?

So I think I can breathe easy that I haven't traumatized her for life.

But how come no one prepares you for THIS kind of parenting? It's all breastfeed this, and discipline that, and do it this way or your baby will not thrive, blah blah blah. I would have liked a little more preparation for the kill your kid's dreams type of situation.

The Happiest Kid in the Whole Human World

Or so she claims. Who knew that a drop-off playdate after school
and a lollipop could have such an effect?

If only happiness was always so simple to achieve.

Infinity Girl

I'm being ganged up on.

I've had a few more universal truths on my mind lately, one being that parents will always hate the music their children listen to. Or vice versa. I mean, sure, we all go a little crazy in the toddler years and think we might just run over Barney if we ever saw him in a crosswalk after we've listened to "I love you, you love me" for the 723rd time.

But I thought I was still a fair distance from the pre-teen years when I will shake my head in wonder at the no doubt talentless bands my kid chooses to listen to. In reality, I have high hopes that Sweetpea will have a broad taste in music, she listens to just about anything we have on the ipod and has gone through phases of requesting the Beatles or David Bowie or Steve Miller or the English Beat. Great, right? Hopefully we'll maintain common ground musically.

But now English hubby has introduced her to Stereolab. A band of which I'm not fond. A band which until now hubby has only played at work so I don't have to be subjected to it. A band which I firmly dislike, even though I pride myself on my sweeping musical tastes. But Sweetpea loves them, and her imagination has been captured by a song called Infinity Girl.

She loves the concept of infinity right now. The symbol for it has frequently appeared in her recent drawings, and she has proclaimed herself an Infinity Girl this week. When I ask what that is, she says it's someone who thinks about numbers a lot. She proved this concept by counting up to 147 on our drive to daycare yesterday morning.



But after drawing this today, she says that in magical lands Infinity Girls are superheroes who put bad guys in jail until they say sorry. (Note the infinity symbol. And Sweetpea wants you all to know that Infinity Girl is saying "Stop Thief!")




I suppose I can live with Stereolab for now if it inspires this kind of thinking. But I'm keeping a close eye on my husband - I see that light in his eye and know he's crackling his fingers over what he's going to indoctrinate her into next.

Garden Sights and Sounds

Going on outside very recently...

Sweet strawberries! A blue jay eyed this one speculatively
and I am prepared for defensive measures.

Swiss chard (I think!) popping up, despite the neighbour's cat pooing on it.

Two monkeys in the bay tree, ignoring their mothers.

Tonsils and Tidying

Yet another day of no work for Mrs. Mosey today, folks. Guess who's home again with tonsilitis? When I grew up and you had tonsilitis there was no nonsense - off you go to the hospital to have 'em out. Not that I'm suggesting that putting my little sweetie under the knife is a choice I'd make without a care in the world, but how in heck am I supposed to get any work done?

For those of you who don't know me well, that was sarcasm. Mostly. I'm Canadian.

I'm reluctantly enjoying these kinds of days where plans go out the window and we just go with the flow, though. And I do appreciate the fact that I get bonus time to hang out with my five year old who seems to like being with me at the moment. Even when I'm grumpy. Yesterday we visited her kindergarten for the first time - yes, kindergarten approaches! - and one of the teachers mentioned how much kids this age LOVE having their parents around (desperate attempt to hustle parent classroom volunteers), and I recognize that the time is coming when Sweetpea will not want me to be around when she's at school with her friends.

So today we played "What time is it Mr. Wolf", we puttered in the garden, we worked side-by-side at our computers, she drew pictures on every single post-it in the house, we ate popsicles, and I watched her do her tidying.

Since Sweetpea was small, she's had a tendency to arrange things. When she was two, I came out of the shower to find every single t-shirt in my drawers laid out on the floor in very tidy rows. She has arranged parties for her stuffies, and creates still life arrangements out of toys that I've occasionally photographed over the years.

Last week, I came out of the house to find that she had picked a bunch of our Mexican daisies and arranged them in groups of three step-by-step. Not sure why, but it looked pretty until the wind came up. Then she picked them up and presented them to me for vase placement.

And if that isn't proof enough that I leave her to her own devices a little too much, while I composed part of this blog post she was retrieving her sidewalk oil pastels (from a very high shelf),

drawing this

and ending up like this

Doesn't look very sick, does she?

I've Got a Good Mother

Good Mother by Jann Arden.

With my Mum and sister.

Happy Mother's Day Mum - I love you.

And to all mothers, I wish you a glorious day.

Regular Everyday Sort of Day

What with the PMS, universal truths, and a work project that tested every stress-coping mechanism I possess, it's been a strange week.

But yesterday, obviously fearing imminent wifey meltdown with aforementioned frustrating project, English hubby came home early from work, booted me out of my desk chair, and we got the majority of the vegetable garden in. Just a few pots left to fill (herbs and tomatoes), and now we just sit back and watch them grow. My responsibility ends there, right? What do you mean I have to water and nurture them?

And today I woke up and all was right with the world again. Project is delivered (and hopefully will stay that way). Sweetpea and I spent the day just hanging out with each other the way we used to before life got too busy. We did some more planting, we went to a Mother's Day Tea at her school, we shopped for new shoes, we walked to the park, and we made books.

She's into writing and illustrating her own books right now. It's quite amazing to watch her sit at her table completely focused and pump out 10 pages of drawings (or however many she asks me to staple together) and when she's ready, dictate the story for me to write down.

I try to be aware that when she's ready to take on a project, I need to create the space and the time for it to happen.

I recently watched a TED video with Ken Robinson (a Brit who I don't know, but who reminds me of a funny Kenneth Branagh) on whether the school system is killing creativity in our kids. My opinion is that it depends on a lot of factors (like the school district, the teacher, the teaching philosophy, whether there is a good balance between academic and creative subjects), but it's still a good question to ponder. Would a lot of the symptoms of learning deficits be reduced if you could not only ensure that academic/creative balance exists, but diagnose an individual's strengths and play to them? As individuals, we all learn differently, and it would follow that we should be taught differently as well.

That paragraph made my brain hurt, especially since I just wanted to brag about Sweetpea's obvious brilliance and future career as an award-winning author whose success will support English hubby and I in our golden years. (She obviously takes after her Auntie L.)

Author creates and reads "The Unicorn Saves the Princess" and "The Egg That Has to Hatch".

Universal Truths

PMS victims should qualify for paid sick days. Weeks, even. You wake up in the morning, looking forward to the day and all the accomplishments you're going to ... accomplish ... and the first word anyone says to you or perhaps the sight of guinea pig poop squished into the hardwood results in snarls toward anyone in the vicinity. Lasts all day too, even with coffee and waffles with maple syrup. Day ruined, the world hates me, short fuse, Sweetpea keeps a low profile in her room drawing. Smart girl.

Don't plan. Remember my snoozy Sunday, the heat wave, my prediction that chilly and/or rainy weather would in all likelihood return? And all my plans to get the vegetable garden planted this past weekend? If you don't live where I live, guess what the weather's doing right now? Four straight days of rain, that's right. Not that we don't need it, but hello - could it not have waited until I was over my PMS? Oh. And planted the garden, for crying out loud?

When the time is right, you'll know it. At this time last year I was wringing my hands over whether to enroll Sweetpea in kindergarten this past September. She has an unfortunate birthday which means that she would either be one of the youngest or the oldest in her year, depending on when she starts school. I think the reason I did so much hand-wringing was not only because I wasn't sure if she was ready but - just maybe - because I wasn't ready for her to be in school every day. Well, I'm ready. She is a daily delight to me (as demonstrated by how often she is featured in my ramblings), but I'm ready for my little bird to fly the nest so that I can too. Plus, she asks every single day how many more days it is to kindergarten, so she's ready too, just in case you were calling me a selfish mother under your breath. I heard you! PMS gives me superhero-hearing, you know.

Don't try to roast garlic in the microwave. You'll be smelling its charred remains for days afterward. True story.

Write it down or you'll forget. Because I had at least six or seven universal truths planned for this post before I did three loads of laundry and then sat in the rain watching Sweetpea play soccer and then took us both for a hot chocolate and a banana muffin afterward to warm up, even though my stomach is a total wasteland from all the stress-related eating I've been doing lately. But I'm afraid five is all I've got.

And with that, I'm off to drown my sorrows in a cup of tea (and later after Sweetpea is in bed, a glass of wine). I wish you all a PMS-free day.

Cluck cluck

My family back home are going to think I am completely and totally NUTS, but....

I want chickens. Meaning in my backyard. Pecking and clucking and ruffling their feathers indignantly. I'm probably allergic to them, but they'll be outside, right?

There will be no rooster, on that I'm firm. No cock-a-doodling at the crack of dawn. Just a couple (or three) hens to entertain us and supply us with fresh eggs. And maybe attract all the coyotes in the neighbourhood, but I'm trying to stay positive here.

Am I a total looney for even considering it? Okay yes. But there's something so appealing about the idea (and ideal) of being self-sufficient to a certain degree - thus our in-the-works veggie garden (which might be a complete and utter failure).

And when you can buy something like this to house them, and really, how cool would it be having some futuristic science-fiction style chicken coop in the backyard (they come in pink! Sweetpea would be overjoyed!), it's almost imperative to go for it. Right?

Thanks to Design Mom for the link.

Well, maybe not. But I'm not ruling it out in future, even though English hubby just said he'd rather have a dog.

Family back home shakes their collective head with resignation.

Mother's Day Gift Idea

Need a little somethin' somethin' for the Mum in your life?

Go here to enter to win an autographed one of these:

(and thank Scottish Lass on your way out...)