This week has been a week of arguments over semantics and our abilities to process what we are hearing. Basically, listening skills. And mostly just Jackson.
"jackson, can you please wipe off your hands" *walks over to Shiloh and wipes his hands off on her shirt. Cue tantrum* "Jackson why are your pants down? We are in the library!" "My butt is itchy." "Jackson, then you say to me 'Mom, can we please go to the bathroom'. We do not take our clothes off in the library!" *proceeds to drag all 3 kids into the bathroom that is NOT stroller friendly. "Mom I pulled my pants down and am now itching my butt a lot. All over. No poop though." "Jackson, we don't need to narrate what you are doing. No one else wants to hear that." "Mom I keep itching my butt with my long finger nail." "Jackson, the neighbours do not need to see you without clothes on. We are not peeing outside anymore." *Jackson proceeds to pee through the neighbours fence when I turn my back.* "Jackson if you need to pee go INSIDE." *proceeds to pull his underwear and shorts down and run around buck naked laughing hysterically while peeing everywhere. As I try to chase him. Then give up and hide inside pretending he isn't mine. "Jackson you are super strong but maybe not strong enough to carry Harper all over" *turn around to find him dragging her through the grass by her feet* "I'm not lifting her mom!" "Jackson what did you think of your new teacher?" "... I'm not sure she is a human mom." "What? Why not?" "I think she might be a transformer." And my favourite.. "I love you buddy. I'm going to miss you when you go to school." *Jackson bends over and farts very loudly. Runs away laughing. Ah my son. My life would be so boring without you.
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8/30/2017 0 Comments theologyShiloh got a bracelet at a bridal shower for my sister-in-law because she is the flower girl. I told her it was because she is very special. And then she started to almost cry."But Mommy, you are special too! You need a bracelet! Jesus loves you too Mom. He makes everyone special!"
In that small moment I feel like my kids start to understand just a little little bit. "T is for Tucker. And Jesus died on a giant T. That means Tucker was there. Why couldn't Jesus have died on a giant J?" (Jackson - this then sparked a heated debate over next time Jesus dies if it's on a J or a S) *drives past cemetery* "Jesus didn't get put in one of those like my Grandpa and Pake. He got put in a cave. With a big rock. And there was a bear in the cave who tried to eat Jesus but he used his magic wand. Now he lives in my heart" (Shiloh) "Jesus died to save us from Megatron!" (Jackson) And then I think, nope we've got some major work to do. 8/30/2017 0 Comments imaginaryMy kids (especially Jackson) absolutely love their nephew Tucker. I don't know why. Just kidding. He's totally awesome. Plus I think my kids love my brother and sister-in-law and associate Tucker with my mother who they have a strange obsession with (and although my mother denies encouraging it any way we know she's lying).
Shiloh is also quite into pretend right now. And as I tried to unpack I was taken aback when I heard the door open "Oh hi Tucker, come on in". Turns out Jackson and Shiloh thought it would be great to pretend to invite Tucker over while constantly opening and shutting their bedroom door to be the one to 'let him in'. Safe game to play right? They fight over Tucker but he isn't here so life is great. They can pretend. Oh wait, it turned into a full blown fist fight. Fighting over whose bed Tucker was going to sleep on. Punches thrown, hair pulled and enough screaming that I'm surprised CAS wasn't called. Like seriously guys?! Do you realize he's not here? You can have 1000 Tuckers do whatever they want and not listen to anyone else. And so I had to separate my 2 crazies and ''tell'' Tucker he needed to come into my room for a bit while Jackson and Shiloh calmed down. Crisis averted. Thank goodness for coffee. 8/16/2017 0 Comments one last timeIf you are tired of moving posts feel free to ignore this.
It's a night of one last times (appropriate please). But I'm very much pathetically sitting here in the nursery trying to see through my pathetic bawling mess to write this post. I can't believe we are actually saying goodbye to this gorgeous old house. I have the windows open on the second story (oh dear goodness I'm going to miss a second story) listening to the sounds of the neighbourhood I fell in love with. Yes, even the neighbour yelling at Titus to shut up. I love hearing kids in the street, cars going past. The sounds of life, the sounds of people. Even the train is comfort. It's crazy how so much of this house drove me bonkers. Until I had to say goodbye and then of course saw all the things I love. Big 4 foot windows, thick white trim, old grates and big thick trimmed doors. And so much natural light.The character you can't build into houses. That of course includes attics that are saunas and the world's steepest stairs. I remember lying in bed on my day off, hugely pregnant with Jackson listening to Xena chew the trim in the hall but not having the physical energy to do anything about it. Just dreaming about my baby. We brought all three of our babies home here. All three of them spent the first few months in our room beside our bed. Then moved into the nursery where we would check them with the paranoia of a first time parent. They all started to crawl here, explore. I have pictures of each of them bombing around through the halls, peeking their heads out of their rooms. And its proximity to St. Joes saved my life on several occassions. We started to fit right in with the downtown culture. I ran around the streets with my screaming 6 week old (in my pajamas) looking for my dog. My kids often wait outside on the porch in nothing but their underwear waiting for Reuben. And holy are my kids good at making a mess. Okay any more memories and I'll bawl until someone locks me up. We spent the afternoon at the new house getting a few things ready. And yet when I showed up here, despite boxes piled miles high and empty rooms, I felt like I was coming home. This is my home. My routes are familiar, I know how to get to where I need. The new house isn't ours. I don't relax there, I don't instantly drop my guard as I'm flooded with the normal that makes it mine. It wasn't what I thought my second house would be. I see a house of endless projects, some of which I know will never get done. I see a house that makes me cry for very different reasons than this one. I see a house empty of us. But I'm married to the best who sees a house empty of us but ready to be filled. A house full of potential. A house that will soon smell like ours, be a mess like ours and overflow with memories. A yard waiting to be explored. And walls ready to be filled with secrets, hopes and dreams. Our family got to write our story to a 100 years of stories written into these walls. We've filled it with dreams, hopes, laughter and memories I never want to forget. We spent countless hours talking long into the night about what we want for ourselves, our family and our kids. I love knowing that this house was built in 1918. It's been full of people who've lived through wars, famines, political instability, global crises, massive cultural changes and ideological shifts. It holds their worries and fears, sorrows and hardships but also their hopes and dreams, laughter and joy. And countless new beginnings. So I'll savour my one last time. One last sleep here, one last run around the neighbourhood, one last night enjoying the sounds of a place so dear in my heart. One last time. Here's to our new beginning. One another note. Jackson said goodbye to the house by marching outside, arching his back as far as he could making sure his pee went across as much of the yard as possible. Ran out the front door and never looked back. 8/15/2017 0 Comments never say...I am going to stop saying, "that was the grossest thing ever" because guarantee anytime I do something even more disgusting happens.
I guess Harper wasn't getting enough attention during the last few mad days of packing so she decided to catch a cold. My cheerful baby has proven her parenthood in her cold. Holy. She become her father. So clingy and sucky and just wanting to snuggle and have extra attention. Granted she has yellow snot running everywhere and bloodshot eyes. But my little lady, not exactly the most ideal time. I had to navigate the waterfalls of snot running down her face while trying to feed her lunch. And it was the yummy mango apple kind. Come on moms i know you've all tasted baby food either on purpose or when cleaning spoons and faces, including your own. As I wiped some off her face with her spoon after she was finished I licked the spoon clean. Clean of snot. I ate an entire spoonful of snot. I hope you are all gagging as hard as I did. I can handle a lot of gross but snot is not one of those things. And it was the yellow 'i can smell it from here' snot. Gross factor of 1000. 8/11/2017 0 Comments it's pouringWhen it rains, it pours here..
Seriously. We came back from the cottage (cottage post to come soon) which was a surprisingly relaxing time, especially given the ages and interests of my 3 crazies. We were supposed to be home for 2 days and leave for camping tonight. Which unless Port Burwell magically got Wifi and I also magically got free time camping to write, we are at home. We are at home. Our van had been making a few weird noises. Those noises that can terrify you but you pray it's just because it's a little wet or something. And of course the only appointment they had was 11 am this morning. An especially convenient time for mother's with napping children. And who are trying to pack for camping and a move. And not bawl at every box she packs. We show up at the mechanics prepared. Jackson and Shiloh had their backpacks full of snacks, drinks and activities. We picked up the ultimate bribe on the way, aka timbits. And our mechanic has a tv in the waiting room so I was hoping I could con whoever else was waiting into letting my kids pick the channel. Or they would narrate whatever else was on and ask 1 trillion questions. Everything went well, kids settled, we controlled the remote because we were the only ones there. And poof. My van started smoking when they tried to start it. Hurray. I had only prepared for about an hour wait so when that hour mark hit my well prepared backpacks stopped working. Jackson discovered he could fart very loudly on the chairs and managed to consistently have gas. My girls proceeded to pee/poop through and stink the whole place up. Shiloh loudly described everyone's outfits in much detail, making sure to include all their stains. And of course I forgot the diaper bag in the van which was currently up on the hoist. What was supposed to be a brake inspection turned into a very expensive and 3 hour visit. Koodos to my awesome husband who came to the rescue and picked us up, shoved us in a car and raced us home during his lunch break so we weren't stuck there till kingdom come (which was actually 5 pm). As soon as the kids were asleep I ordered pizza to eat all my by myself. Hot. And all for me. Not to share. Fair right?! And then I felt so guilty I saved most of it for the family. 5 days and counting. Oh help me. 8/4/2017 0 Comments a bandaidI'm realizing I cope much better with moving when it's done like ripping off a bandaid. Hide all the boxes that have been packed so it still feels like my house and just pack like a psycho the night before. Because I get stupidly emotional when I do it the other way. Which I have been trying and failing at. And it's funny how all of a sudden things that bothered you before become completely wonderful (or less annoying) when you know you have to leave. I have a journal literally full of memories that I've been filling out as I go through and pack. Pathetic ness at it's finest right? There is a goodness to it though. It means we've loved our Eastbourne house. When we bought it we thought we would retire here because it would never increase in value. That was a lie. But the previous homeowners, along with leaving ridiculous duct tape dry wall patches, left a note on the chalkboard wall, telling us to "fill this old house with memories". And boy did we. I've loved owning a century old home. I mean it came with it's challenges don't get me wrong. Our house temperature differentiates by like 10 degrees on each floor leaving the attic a sauna in the summer and an ice box in the winter and our bodies unable to figure out what is going on. But the history nerd in me comes out when I think of the fact that we are adding our memories into the walls of a house that holds nearly a century of other family memories. I'm the person that would have loved to leave a time capsule. Or find a secret passage in a wall. Apparently I've never grown up. I love the character of an old house. And I love the mature neighbourhood with huge trees that we live in. And the memories.. It's overwhelming thinking about starting somewhere new. I ran through our neighbourhood last night and realized how much I will miss this. The gorgeous homes I always walk by and hope their lights are on so I can creep on what it looks like on the inside. And don't get me started on how much I will miss Halloween here. It's like from the movies! We actually have had movie sets in our neighbourhood.There are kids everywhere, so many that you have to wait at houses. Nearly every single house has some set up, even if it's just a pumpkin. Some houses go all out. And I mean all out with spooky actors on their front lawns who walk towards you, constant witch noises, the works. And thank goodness my son has no fear because he just LOVES it. He was far braver than I was at some of the houses and still talks about them! But what I love most is that the entire neighbourhood comes out and shares with each other. We meet people we've never officially met but see all the time. It's this fantastic blip from the norm - in a few bizarre hours on what is supposed to be the scariest night, people seem to discard their fear of each other and welcome strangers onto their porches to share, joke, give and smile at. Any other day and you would be viewed as a super wacko if you showed up asking for candy. Or let's be real, just showing up on a neighbours porch is relatively uncommon. Brace yourselves St.Clair neighbourhood! We may be coming back in October. And as awesome as buying your second home is, it comes with very mixed emotions of anticipation and excitement and dread at starting over. At least in my case. When we bought this house we came in with the naive excitement of first time home owners. No project seemed to daunting and everything seemed fixable. We were going to make this old house into a gem. And we did in a lot of ways. But a lot of things we thought for sure we'd change we did not. I mean we pumped out 3 kids in 3.5 years so we changed the house in other ways. And my definition of love has changed with the responsibility of a home. Never had Reuben seemed more attractive than when he was lying on his stomach using wooden skewers to pull out the rat that had died on our dishwasher heating coils so I didn't have to. True love at it's finest eh? And when I walk into the new house I see a lot of potential but I also see a lot of work. Thank goodness for a bigger back yard!! What would never have bothered me before, like off white outlet covers, now drives me batty. Who have I become?! I'm thankful that this move is going to be hard. Because there was a time I did not love living here. But I've fallen in love with living downtown in a city which even a year ago would have made me laugh at you. I'm going to desperately miss the multiculturalism and the food, ahhh the ethnic food! I love that my kids know the name of a woman working at the grocery store and don't notice her head covering. I love that they have friends of different cultural backgrounds and ethnicities but don't notice. I love that a woman in a full burka with only her eyes showing stopped us at Marineland and my kids didn't notice. Except Jackson a bit who asked me after if that lady worked with Batman. So as this gets harder and harder and I try to not think that in 2 weeks we will no longer live here, I try to remain thankful for the overflowing memories we have. Brace yourselves for more sentimental posts. I haven't even gotten started on how I feel about moving from the home my babies all came home to. |
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