Is there fun in fundraising?

It is that time of year again... and I do not mean Fall... It is the time of year that I start receiving emails and letters asking for money, donations, and volunteer time from my daughter's school. I believe in helping to enhance my kid's education, and think getting involved is a good idea... but...

I am a lazy person. There, I said it. I also procrastinate, and have a great talent for being able to accomplish nothing for long periods of time (but that is another story).

Anyway, being lazy means I do not always like to help out at school, and when I do help, I would like to do the least amount of work as possible. I also complain, as in bitch, a lot.

However, despite the complaints/bitching, I think deep down I do kind of like volunteering. I really like hanging out with some of the mothers (and nannies) at the school, and volunteering means that I can talk, okay gossip, with them for more than the five minutes we have during drop-offs and pick-ups, and who knows, I may actually get to meet new people.

And, last year, I volunteered once every two weeks in my kid's class. It was a great opportunity to see her at 'work' and to meet her little friends; and I can now match faces to names (my daughter likes to call every kid she meets 'friend' so we have lots of 'friends' but no real way to tell them apart, which makes scheduling play dates challenging – here is our typical conversation: daughter, “My friend invited me to her house.” Me, “Great, what's her name?” Daughter, “I don't know... my friend, the one with the hair...”). Being in the class was actually a lot of fun, as long as I armed myself with lots of headache medication prior to entering the classroom...

So, I guess I really should stop whining and just embrace helping out more. I want to teach my daughter that helping others and being involved in your community is a good thing.

On the other hand, as one the other moms suggested, I am also quite happy to just write the school a cheque at the beginning of the school year and forego this fundraising stuff.

Now, if you please excuse me... I have to go bake some cookies...  

Filling notebooks - I really should write more

When I was little, I loved blank notebooks. Okay, I still love pretty notebooks and journals, especially the leather ones. This is the reason why I own a small collection of notebooks (it is now small, because I am more fiscally responsible, and I managed to actually, but reluctantly, give some of them to my little one – I hope I am not turning her into a notebook addict as well).

I love blank notebooks because they are aesthetically pleasing. Who doesn't love the smell or a feel of a soft leather covered journal?

But mainly, I love notebooks because of the potential and promise they contain.

I love to write. So I see each blank page as a new story, a new adventure, a new emotion, a new thought, a new idea, that is just waiting to be pulled out of the ether, to become something concrete.

Unfortunately, as much as I love to write, my crappy time management skills, combined with my advance procrastination skills, leaves me little time to actually put pen to paper, or in this case, fingers to keyboard. And, I am not the kind of person who likes to listen to the sound of my own voice, so usually I do not write unless I feel like it is something that should be shared. This leaves me very little to actually write about, and thus the blog is so rarely updated.

So now, I hope those of you who read my blog is willing to be patient with me. I am going to actually try to write more, sometimes it may be thought provoking (I hope), sometimes it may just be silly, sometimes I may just babble nonsensically (I hope not), and though it will mainly be about life with a kindergartener, maybe I will also just write about me.

I know I need the practice; I realize just because I like to write, does not mean I am any good at it. It is time to actually start filling and using those notebooks.

... and I am glad that I am not obsessed with something more expensive... like cars...

picture courtesy of: Paul Preacher

a walk in the park, followed by a smack in the face with reality...

During a walk home from the park with my daughter, my little one started to talk about her best friend, AND how the two of them decided to get married someday (she told me he already asked and she replied yes, but he has not asked for my permission yet...)

I, of course, looked at her and smiled, and told her she would not be getting married for a number of years, and maybe she, or he, may change her, or his, mind before then.

She has plenty of time to think about when, and who, she is going to marry. Also, if her father has his way, she will not be marrying until she is at least 40.

I then took her little hand in mine, looked at her, and said, “Besides, you cannot legally marry until you are at least 18 years old, that will be 13 years from now.” (I skipped the part about getting parental permission or getting yourself declared an adult.)

As soon as I said the words '13 years', I immediately felt a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. Though I know logically that 13 years is a long time from now, it really does not feel that far away. In a little more than a decade, my little baby will be legally a grown up!

Where did the time go? And how in the world can I stop her from growing up, or at least, prevent her from becoming a teenager...

Then she looked up at me with her big innocent eyes and told me 18 is very old – if she thinks 18 is old, what am I? Some sort of ancient hag?

She then shrugged her shoulders, and told me yeah, maybe he or she will find someone else. And, she happily skipped off to play.

It made me kind of want to freeze her at this age forever.

from this...

to this in a blink of an eye... sigh...

ring picture courtesy of Johanna Ljungblom

Another school year is over

It seems like only yesterday when I held her little hand, walked her up the steep hill, and then let her go with, well, essentially a stranger. And now, I am a little reluctant to let that former stranger, now beloved teacher, return my child back to me.

Ah... summer vacation... days off for little ones (and big ones), but more work for mom. It is once again my job to entertain her.

I love spending time with my daughter, but I also enjoy and need my time, alone, away from her. Sometimes my ears just need a break (my little one is, as my husband likes to call her, a “constant stream of consciousness”).

I am so going to miss my morning breaks when I can do things like clean, go grocery shopping, have some peace and quiet, stare at Youtube videos, and yes, even occasionally blog!

At least I am better prepared for it this year. We signed her up for three weeks of camp, spaced throughout the summer (one at the beginning, middle, and end). Last year, I was still booking her for August camps in July (late July)... And, I am smart, or evil; I put her favourite camp (ballet) last, so that I have something to threaten her with during these long months... the 'if you do not behave, I am going to cancel ballet camp!'

I think camp will be good for both of us. I like the idea that she will meet new friends, and maybe even learn something; and being away from me should hopefully help ease the shock of going back to school in September.

And for me, I think camp will allow me to keep my sanity, and would probably make me a happier, less bitchy mommy, which should make everyone happy.

Now.... how many days are there left until September....

What are your summer plans?

To correct or not to correct...

I know it is my job as a parent to teach my child, and to 'correct' her when she is doing something wrong.

However, sometimes I find it very hard to do that; especially when it comes to the way she speaks.

My little one is getting older now, and she is losing the last vestiges of her 'baby talk', so I am finding it more and more difficult to correct her pronunciation of certain words (I do try to correct grammar, though that might actually do more harm than good).

I just REALLY miss hearing her say lellow (instead of yellow).

We are trying to help her communicate better with words so that other adults have a chance of understanding her, and are actively trying to remove the 'likes and okays' from her sentences to try to avoid the “like okay mom, like okay, you are so like not cool...”

However, I just cannot let go of her cute little 'words'. It feels almost like I am saying goodbye to my baby, and I am not sure if I am ready to say hello to my little big girl yet.

So, the only thing I have left these days are my “isgusting's” (instead of disgusting), and I plan to protect them as long as I can. And, I do not care who it 'isgusts'.

I am a procrastinator...

I have been meaning to write this post for about two weeks now...

I do not think I am too bad. I will get the things that must be done, done; like our bills are paid on time; I am rarely late handing work in; the kid generally gets to school on time (and if we are late, it is her fault and not mine...); meals are usually on the table on time (give or take 30 min...), gifts are bought and wrapped before the party (sometimes just before the party, or on the way to the party, but they get there wrapped), and the house will get cleaned, or made to look like it is clean before the guests come (even if it means stuffing things under the couch).

Unfortunately, for things that I think are not that important, I tend to put it off until it bites me in the ass.

This was one of those things...

My husband and I had been talking about giving a spare house key to our neighbours, or just to hide it somewhere. Okay, the actual conversation happened four years ago (our parents have an extra key, but it can take up to 40 min for them to get to our house, on a good day).

And then it happened. I locked myself out of the house. And to top it off, it snowed. In April. And, all I had on was a sweater. So yes, there I was, freezing in front of my house, thinking I did this to myself; why did I put these things off?

It was not like we were putting off building an extension on the house, which requires money (that we do not have) and planning; this was a stupid extra key, I should be able to pay for it with the change in my pocket (if I had the key on me).

My next thought was, why couldn't it be my husband who learns this lesson, after all, he could have given the spare key to our neighbours without me.

So that very weekend, we got the extra key cut. It took no time at all to get it done and set up. So now I am prepared for the next time I lock myself out of the house. And I learned my lesson about putting things off... or did I...

I really should sort through that bag of clothes and sign my kid up for summer camp, but maybe I will just make myself a cup of tea first, and maybe think of my next post, or plan dinner...

Making the Magic Last

My little girl is convinced she is a fairy. I believe she is sometimes a evil little gnome... but most of the time, I have to agree, there is something quite magical about her, at least to me.

Since school started, she has convinced herself that with the help of some magic words usually “Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo; Abracadabra,” she is able to change red streetlights green.

I thought about explaining to her that the light is going to turn green whether she says the words or not, or that magic spells work about as well as repeatedly pressing the crosswalk button... but then I stopped myself. Why stop her from seeing magic everywhere?

I am going to try and keep my little magical fairy for a bit longer.