The process of cutting another another apron string.

It's that time. Kindergarten registration looms ever closer. Our kids could have gone to school this year but they have a later birthday and emotionally they are young five-year-olds so we decided to wait. Already I am so glad we waited, already I know it was the right thing to do. But we can put it off no longer. They will start school this coming September and choosing a school has been an exciting and scary ride all at the same time.

Someone recently described to me how they picture the transition from home to Kindergarten. Your child walks out a door of love and trust and safety and gets hit in the face with a bucket full of ice water. Welcome to the real world, SUCKA! When we started thinking about sending our innocent, trusting, sheltered little souls into the dog-eat-dog world of playground politics I have to admit I was severely tempted to homeschool. For about a day. And then after practicing letters for a few minutes with a boy who was trying to write with his arm hovering above the table I decided public school punks with bad attitudes and bad language are way less damaging than a mom yelling, "I said to rest your arm on the table! The table! THE TABLE! Look how shaky your lines are! You have to put your arm down on the table. The. Table. Arm. On table. The table. PUT YOUR ARM ON THE FRIGGIN' TABLE!"

We narrowed our choices down to the two schools closest to us since I don't want to have to drive 40 minutes round trip if someone forgets their snowpants. Up for consideration was a Catholic school and a Public school. Let me break them down for you before I tell you what we decided.

Tour #1. Catholic School which we will call St. A's.
Frankly the fact we were even considering Catholic school was a surprise to me as I had never imagined my kids going anywhere but public school and we are certainly not Catholic. But I had a good friend whose daughter had already spent two great years there and in those two years I heard enough about the ordinary day-to-day experiences to make me love St. A's. So we called and spoke to a very friendly secretary and set up an appointment to tour the school. The school itself is one long hallway of classrooms and reminded me strongly of the little elementary school I went to. Which, big points on the nostalgia factor. The Principal there is one of the most kind and caring individuals I have ever met. He knows every student's name in the school, interrupted every single class to introduce us to the teachers and introduce the kids to the students and halfway through the tour Sebastian, our two-year-old, was asking him for "up, up." The kids in the classes seemed bright and happy, St. A's literacy program is excellent, their playground is well supervised and the school motto is "Be Great In The Small Things". You had me at HELLO!

Compare and contrast if you will when I called the public school, which I will refer to as JH, to book a tour. Firstly I had to go through an automated system - press 1, press 2 etcetera. Then when I pressed zero for the receptionist the phone rang and rang and rang. It rang long enough that I started to prepare a message to leave on the machine. And then it continued to ring and I started to wonder if they even had an answering machine and if I should hang up or let it ring some more. I had just decided to hang up when, I am not even remotely exaggerating, Marge Simpson's sister picked up and barked/coughed, "HELLO." Startled I held the phone out to make sure I had called the right number and then tentatively introduced myself and explained why I was calling. Her response? (You need to read this like you've been smoking for 100 years to really get a feel for the conversation.) "YOU WANNA SEE THE SCHOOL? OKAY. SURE. COME IN. WELL MAYBE YOU NEED AN APPOINTMENT. I DON'T KNOW IF YOU NEED AN APPOINTMENT. YOU MIGHT NEED AN APPOINTMENT. I'D ASK THE PRINCIPAL BUT I CAN'T. SHE'S NOT HERE. NEITHER IS THE VICE PRINCIPAL. THEY'RE NOT HERE."

Understandably I was put off and in that moment had just solidified our decision to go with St. A's when she said, "MAYBE YOU COULD CALL BACK TOMORROW WHEN THE SECRETARY IS BACK IN." Sigh of relief. Marge's sister is not the secretary. When we did get to JH to go on our tour it was the secretary who gave it. This secretary, the Not-Marge's-Sister secretary, was honestly not much better than Marge's sister. When I asked her if she could tell us a bit about their literacy program and about some of their literacy strategies her response was, "We strongly believe in literacy." Well that's good. I was afraid for a moment we might have been considering the only school in the country that didn't believe in literacy. What a relief.

When we met the Principal the secretary didn't use either our names or the Principal's name so I didn't know the Principal's name until we read through the school handbook on the way home. Neither the secretary, the Principal or the Vice Principal asked our kid's their names and we didn't get to meet any of the Kindergarten teachers. However the Principal did grow on me as we talked and I found her much warmer than I originally thought she was going to be. And when we peeked into the music room the Grade 4's were playing African drums and not triangles or maracas which is what elementary school music consisted of for me. The classrooms are bright and each one has five or six computers, the playground is enormous and brand new and Kindergarten kids get Grade 4 reading buddies to help them feel comfortable around the older kids on the playground.

Walking out of JH I was much more torn than I thought I would be. I assumed that when we walked the halls of JH it would just confirm to us that St. A's was absolutely, positively the school for us. I'm not sure what I was expecting the public school to be like but my imagination had conjured up a Lord of the Flies type environment where chaos and mean girls in high heels and blue eyeshadow reined. My entire school education was at public school and besides a few miserable, lonely months when the queen bee of elementary school cast me out of her royal presence and declared me persona non grata, I liked school. So I'm not sure why I had come up with this mental picture except perhaps that everyone is always saying how kids are so much different these days, so much harder to handle, show so little respect. Shockingly, none of the kids who filed past us on their way to library were wearing eyeshadow, blue or otherwise. Amazingly, the windows we peeked through showed classes in perfect order. We didn't even get one black look or middle finger. Who knew public school was so....non-threatening? Walking out of JH I realized the kids would truly be fine in either school.

So what did we decide on in the end? It took us about a week and a couple of conversations with my mom to decide. When I talked to my mom about the differences in Principals and secretaries between the two schools she reminded me how little contact I had with either in my school experiences and that their individual teachers would be more important in forming Tristan and Ava's view of school. One of the Kindergarten teachers at JH also has a music degree and incorporates a lot of music into her lessons which I know my kids would really respond to. Plus class size at JH is more controlled. There is a maximum of 16 kids per class until Grade 3 and each class gets a teacher and an aide. When I bemoaned to my mom the kids not getting to experience the St. A's Principal she said she understood and reminded me of the dynamic and charismatic Principal I had in elementary school. Interestingly when I had been thinking of my elementary school Principal I had been drawing a complete blank. I couldn't even remember if the Principal had been a man or woman. Obviously not a big impact in my life, obviously not something to choose a school over. JH has another thing going for it. It's bigger than St. A's. This year there is three Kindergarten classes to St. A's one. A bigger school means all the good things like more options, more programs, more provincial funding etc. But it also means should some queen bee at some time oust Ava she won't have to sit alone on the playground wishing she had other options for friends.

Underlining all these considerations is the fact that we want our kids to go to the public highschool up in our area (should we still live here when that time comes). It's a really good school with a lot of sports and arts options and opportunities like overseas exchanges and school trips to New York. Bottom line, in this city you don't feed from Catholic elementary school to Public highschool. Personally I would not want to have to start over on the friend department in Grade 7. Kind of a tender age emotionally if you know what I mean. So with all that being said we chose, drum roll please.....JH, public school, and couldn't be happier with our decision. True to form Tristan is excited about gym class and getting to play on the playground everyday and Ava is excited about getting to eat lunch at school and having an after-school snack.

Initially Tristan and Ava didn't want to go to JH. They wanted to go to St. A's because they took to the Principal so strongly but when I told them he wouldn't be their teacher and the gym and playground at JH were way bigger they were sold. Isn't it great how easily convinced kids are? Oh my gosh. They're easily convinced. What if some kid convinces them they shouldn't like their parents? Or listen to their teachers? Or that all the cool kids smoke? What if they hate it? What if someone is mean to them?

Why did I think homeschooling wasn't a good idea again?

Requires Ice Cream #1

So, funny story.

One of our local papers put out an ad looking for a creative story writer to do a weekly column, the description of which sounded a lot like blogging with a local spin. I was terrified but I decided to apply. A friend helped me comb through the archives on my blog and we chose four samples to tweak and submit and I spent an entire day emailing my mom back and forth in the quest of the perfect cover letter. I finished it, printed it all, got dressed up, had Hugh come home from work mid-day so I could drop it off in person rather than email it and....the editor wasn't in. The receptionist put it on his desk and even though I didn't get to speak to the editor I walked out feeling very good about my submissions.

Early the following week I wanted to call and touch base and just make sure the editor had seen my application so I went to the yellow pages and looked under newspapers and had a minor stroke. See one of the things I thought was so great about my cover letter was how I showed that I read the paper in question by commenting briefly on how much I have enjoyed their Ask The Experts section. What gave me the minor stroke was seeing Ask The Experts in the phone book. With it's own number. On a separate line. As in not a section of the paper I was applying to.

So.... Not so much funny ha-ha....
They could still call right? Right? To slightly mangle Shakespeare, "the road to publication never did run smooth."

2010

In elementary school I read a poem about New Years that went something along the lines of: exercise books half-full, pencils half their size, erasers down to nubs, backpack straps are broken but Happy New Year anyway. I remember coming back to school every year from Christmas break and feeling like what's so new about this year? Now, as an adult, I love a new year. Is there anything more exciting and inspiring than a calendar full of blank pages? It feels like anything is possible! A new calendar is always another reminder for me to be intentional about what I do (and don't) want in my life. I am, as always, determined not to simply react to the world around me. At the end of this year I want to be pleased by how my calendar filled up - pleased at the growth, friendships and fun I planned into my life. I know I cannot control everything. I know that this year will bring it's challenges but I will take responsibility for every thought, every action, every emotion and carve a learning and growth out of every situation. The definition of responsibility is simply the ability to respond. I have the ability to respond to everything in my life so the greater question is, how will I respond?

All in all I'm starting 2010 off better than I began 2009. I lost the 15 pounds I gained last year not by running or doing my 10-minute trainer but by having an emergency appendectomy being on a broth diet for three days and then being completely turned off of food for over a month afterward. Easy, non? Now if only I could figure out a way to market it...

I have a few things on my "want to accomplish" list for 2010, one of which is getting something published. Which should be no problem since breaking into the publishing world is notoriously easy. Sigh. Just thinking about all the rejection I'm likely to face in this pursuit makes me crave ice cream.

2010 will also bring a whole new dynamic to our family as Tristan and Ava will start full-day, five days a week Kindergarten and I am determined to make these last months count, these last days special. The years of having young kids at home go as fast as everyone says they do yet I remember clearly days that seemed to have no end, nights when morning came all too quickly and I didn't know if I had it in me to begin another endless round of feedings, bum wipes, and baths. It really has gotten easier as my children have grown and I am thankful that I also have a wealth of memories of adventure and laughter and fun but there are still things I've never done with my kids that I always thought I would. So this is the year I'm going paint outside with the kids, do treasure hunts and tea parties and maybe, just maybe find a fairy.

What about you? What do you want out of 2010?

She does NOT like surprises!

I have two younger sisters. My youngest sister Jane does not like surprises. Every year at Christmas she turned our house upside-down finding all the presents hidden and on Christmas Day as you were about to open a present she would say things like, "you're going to really like this one!" It got to the point where before you opened anything you'd glance at Jane and she would give you a slight nod or a shake depending on whether she thought you'd like it or not.

Another of our Christmas traditions was to do a sister-sleepover on Christmas Eve and Jane would wake up hours before Erin or I and dump all the stockings out and to see what everyone got and to high-grade the candy and gifts that we all got slightly different versions of like watches or socks. In her later teen years Jane decided she was tired of always knowing what everyone got every year and she decided to shake things up and be surprised. She announced this one day at dinner to a stunned silence and so Mom went out of her way to surprise Jane that year, even going so far as to not hide a single gift at home, just in case! And wouldn't you know that was the year Jane happened to walk out of the library, which was kitty-corner to the office where my Mom worked, at the same time Mom happened to be taking Jane's gift inside her office to hide. Even when she wanted to be surprised she couldn't be. This might be genetic as apparently my Mom's brother, Cam, was always like that.

Now I'm the Mom and it's my job to do Christmas. This year, in the midst of all our holiday busyness Hugh and I are refinishing a hutch we bought off Kijiji. Cuz there's nothing like adding a bit of unnecessary stress to an already stressful season, right? Last weekend we went downstairs to prime it. (Our basement is unfinished.) Hugh went down a few minutes before me and I heard him say, "You guys get out of there! You know you're not allowed to play in there!" Which made me run down the stairs immediately because I knew the "there" Hugh was talking about was the furnace room which besides being off limits due to the potential for danger and destruction, is also where I hid the boys' Christmas presents. I could immediately tell from the looks on their faces that Tristan had no idea what was in the bags in the furnace room and Ava knew exactly what was in the bags. I took her upstairs for a little private convo where I used my best mom voice. You know the one right? It's the one guaranteed to get truthful answers because although quiet and controlled, it sounds like the wrath of God is about to fall and holds just a hint of the promise of the end of life as we know it.
"Ava what did you see in the bags?"
"Toys."
"What kind of toys?"
"Little People."
The Little People are just a little add-on gift in the spirit of keeping things even between all the kids. Can I just say right now that I wish kids this age understood evenness in terms of cost and not how many presents they have to open? Anyway, the point is the Little People were sitting on top of the boys' main gifts, Bounce Back Racers, which Tristan has asked for two years in a row.
"What else did you see?" I demanded.
"Ummm, ummm, ummmm," she said with quivering little lips. "I saw, um, I saw hot things and sharp things and dangerous things." And then she fell sobbing into my arms while I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief that I did not have to start my Christmas shopping over. When she calmed down I said, "Ava do you know you're not allowed in the furnace room?"
"Yes."
"Well then why did you go in there?"
"Because I wanted to see those toys again."
Again.
"How many times have you been in that room?"
"Um, maybe about like five times?"

Sometimes you just can't fight fate. Or genetics. I sure hope Ava can keep a secret.

Can you call cursing a talent?

I don't swear a lot. I don't swear never either but I try to save it for moments of extreme aggravation or humour. The only time I have ever come close to that moment where your child repeats something you said under your breath at a really inopportune time is when Ava said in a very irritated tone of voice, but also under her breath, something with the word "damn" in it. She was 3 and damn sounded very strange coming out of her mouth. Although it's nowhere near as strange as hearing your two-year-old take almost any word in the English language and turn it into the F-word.




He is talented, non? The newest addition is blanket, excuse me, f**kit, and I just about had a heart attack when I was putting him to bed two nights ago until I realized he was trying to pull the covers up.