Lawn Mower

My lint remover....full of grass

 Who would have thought a lint remover could be used to mow the lawn.

My husband found mine outside, wet in the yard. 

Apparently my son, who was home "sick" today, decided to do a little yard work:-)

I guess it's a more ''fuel efficient" way of going about it.

And So It Begins

6^th place in the pole bending competition at the Harper Stick Horse Rodeo.

That is the award my 4 year old boy is proudly holding in the photo below.

His very own trophy.

I never thought that a child of mine would be participating in anything like a rodeo. Not because it's something bad, just because it's not exactly the reality I grew up in.

The only thing remotely close to a rodeo was when a buddy of mine (who shall remain unnamed) would dangerously yet uninhibitedly do donuts in his jeep in the gravel pit in Saulnierville.

Bronc riding, goat tail pull, barrel racing,bull riding and of course pole bending.

Those are the six events that has catapulted my son into the rodeo scene.

I think the only people prouder then he was of himself, was his father and grand-father.

Stick horse rodeos and bucking chutes are definitely part of THEIR boyhood realities!

So I have a feeling that I will be hearing the words bull riding and stick horse a whole lot in the next few days.

And that makes me smile:-)

Nobody puts baby in the corner!

Translation Please

''Look mama, flit!''

Had I not known what my 2 year old was saying, I would not have been able to attempt to stop him from catapulting himself forward off our lazy boy chair.

What he was in fact trying to say was, “Look mama, flip!”

And I am saying “attempt” because I never quite made it in time to stop the tiny circus act.

I guess that's what I get for putting his older brother in gymnastics:-)

Anyway, the point is, being a parent often means being able to crack codes.

Examples:

• As you've already read, my two year old now puts t’s at the end of each word. So, “encore” is “encote” and       “ouvrir” has become “ouvrite” (sorry for all you non-French speaking folk...I'll try to have better examples next   time:-))

•  For the longest time, my son would say no when he meant yes and yes when he meant no...and we still somehow managed to keep him alive.

• I was sitting with my 4 year old the other day watching the Auburn vs Oregon game and he asked me, “Is it the papas who are playing or the kid big people?”

Did anyone get that????.......he meant, is it the NFL or college football...clever right?

I instantly knew what he was talking about...maybe I should be a spy:-)

But on the flip side of things, kids can be very articulate.

For example, my 5 year old daughter just asked me, “Is it going to be like this all day....you on the computer?”

Maybe too articulate.

Anyway.

I guess language barriers can manifest themselves in different ways.

For instance, when I first moved here to Lafayette, Louisiana from Canada, I asked my husband, then my boyfriend, (who, by the way, was not the ice cream connoisseur I am) to get me a “heavenly hash ice cream in a sugar cone” at our local ice cream parlor. He came back, empty handed, with this baffled, confused look on his face....a look you don't have coming out of an ice cream parlor!

It turns out what I really wanted was “rocky road ice cream in a waffle cone”. Who knew! Apparently heavenly hash ice cream and sugar cones don't exist here.

My husband lets me order my own ice cream now:-)

So I guess whether it's small children or two people from different cultures trying to communicate, they will not always be understood completely. The important thing is that they are communicating:-)

…...Oh and remember all you Canadians! In Lafayette, Louisiana there is no “pop”....there is only “soda”!

Little White Lies

''Oh the holidays were great. The kids had such a great time. It was really fun having them around all the time.”

Lie.

But that is my politically correct, right wing answer when people ask me how the holidays were.

I mean really, who wants to hear, “Well, the holidays were like Chinese torture, my children managed to think of new ways to make me contemplate downing that bottle of wine on the counter and truthfully I don't care if they stay at my life saver of a babysitter for the next 30 consecutive days”.

These are the little white lies we say to make ourselves feel better about our situation and to make others think that we feel good about ourselves.

Or to make sure nobody calls social services on us!

I admit, I sometimes do or say things to make myself seem like a “better” parent.

I often let my 4 year old pee in the yard so I don't have to wipe down every single object in the bathroom 20 times a day, but when he pees in the yard at my in-law's house, I fuss at him a little and act like it's the first time he's done it (I guess the cat's out of the bag now...sorry Gran:-)).

I also have two time-out chairs in my dining room that I never use. I just leave them there to make it look like I'm following all the Supernanny rules and that my kids actually sit quietly in time-out in those damn chairs for the amount of minutes of their age.

Yeah right! Mainly they just use them to stand on and draw on the custom made (expensive) painting I have behind them. Maybe I should move that painting...or the chairs.

I think however, the problem with those little lies is that in reality, if amongst us moms, we would tell each other the truth, we'd probably all feel way better about ourselves.

Because I know you did not LOVE to spend 3 whole weeks with that brat of a child of yours and I know your 1 ½ year old did not miraculously potty train himself in a week.

Maybe a little more honesty wouldn't be so bad. :-)

Potty Time or Party Time

What it is with the darn bathroom!

I swear to God, my kids have a spidy sense that goes off in their head the minute my foot crosses the bathroom threshold.

I don't know what they think goes on in there, but you'd swear it's some sort of mystical fairyland where they're giving away balloons and pony rides.

The minute the tinkle of water falls in my tub, here comes 3 frantic kids ripping off their clothes as if they were on fire.

On the rare occasion that I get to lock the handle, screams and frantic banging on the door serenade me until my dear husband is able to finally, somehow distract them.

Still to this day I don't know why I spent such time and effort creating the inviting, peaceful, oasis of a bathroom upstairs (their very own bathroom)...walls adorned with pretty colorful fish...bright, educational shower curtain (...it's an actual world map)...buckets full of water guns and bubble bath...a mecca for bath time.

But, no. They insist in bathing in our windowless, dark box of a bathroom..playing with the half broken plastic cup that holds the soap.

I just don't get it.

How many times have I been in the bathroom (using the commode...sorry had to say it) and one (or two) of my kids come bursting in asking me to come restart the “Passe-Partout” (70's french Canadian kid's program....not the morning show) or the “Caillou” DVD.

I swear I'm in there tops two minutes!

I guess it's kind of like a “forbidden” land. And we all know the sure way to get kids to do something is to tell them they're not allowed!

Maybe I'll start telling them their NOT allowed to use THEIR bathroom:-)

My Kids Can't Skate!

It's a quiet Sunday afternoon and my daughter and I are looking at Christmas photos of my family in Canada. My 5 year old niece is happily holding up her Christmas gift, proud as a peacock. My daughter turns to me and asks, “What are those?”.

I shoot her a look. The kind of look your mom gives you when you've said something so disgusting, so embarrassing, that you walk yourself up to your room without even being sentenced.

I answer, “Those are skates!”.

Blasphemy......MY child doesn't know what skates are!

Ice skates to be more specific.

If I was in Point-de-l'Eglise, Nova-Scotia, Canada, I would not have to specify, but since I'm here in Lafayette, Louisiana, in the deep south, where ice is as rare as an acadian holiday without a potato, then yes, it's safer to specify.

I come from a place where kids skate before they even learn how to walk.......so to speak.

In her defense I'm pretty sure she know what ice skates are...at least I hope.....it's just seeing them out of context threw her for a loop.

 There is in fact an ice rink about 5 miles from here and I am told that there is some sort of minor hockey league and figure skating in town. However, I'm pretty sure that there are way more cleats and footballs hanging around and utility rooms then there are skates and hockey sticks.

One of my fondest memories growing up is watching all the boys from our neighborhood (neighborhood meaning a 30 mile radius with houses being ½ mile apart) playing hockey on the little pond behind my parents house. Or, going skating with my cousins at our local arena on cold Sunday afternoons.

So naturally, it makes me a little sad to think that my children can't skate.

Granted I could make the drive and teach them, but between gymnastics lessons, dances lessons, dirty diapers and birthday parties, it's hard to find the time...or the envie. (I guess it's not that important to me after all:-))

So I don't see them learning to skate anytime soon, but this I know for sure.....

They do know what a first down is , they could all pronounce the word Atchafalaya before the age of 3 and they can cast their fishing line out 20 feet to that hole where the red fish are hanging out.

It's not skating, but I guess it'll do:-):-) (wink wink)!