The Big Questions

I'm starting to think that I have nothing interesting to say anymore. Maybe you are too. If so, check out my new blog at Mommy Blogs Toronto: Mama Drama. I'm trying to be more "thinky" there. But this here is my own personal little space. And it is said that art doesn't happen in a vaccuum. It is reflective of what the artist is going through in his/her life, and what is happening in the world. (Not that I consider my writing "art" in any way, shape or form...) For instance, light-hearted movies and musicals flourished in the 30's when there was a Depression. In the 50's when things sifted back to status quo, we saw the rise of the B-movie horror films. So, these days, I'm saving all my "Big Thinks" for the essays and exams I'm writing. That means you all get the stuff that's left over. Lucky you! And when the lovely K-girl had some questions for me, how could I say no?

1. You have just been nominated as the shoo-in candidate for Supreme Benevolent Goddess of the Universe. Who will be your running mate?
Well, this is obviously some kind of alternate universe, because I'm not a candidate for Benevolent anything. I am nice (sporadically), kind (usually), helpful (almost always). "Benevolent"? Not so much. I really want to be, though. I'm just far too selfish. And tired. So very tired. So I obviously need a running mate who's going to do all the work. And since this is not reality, I can choose anyone I want - even Dead People. So I pick Princess Di. She had a lot of money and power, and used it for good, instead of her own ends. And she didn't seem afraid to get "down and dirty" with the commoners. That's my kind of chick. I could stand to be more like her.

2. Your son seems to enjoy climbing on bookshelves. What is he trying to reach?
I assume you're talking about the photo in the corner? That's actually quite out of character for the Boy. He has shown little inclination to climb on anything. I desperately want him to figure out stairs, so that I don't have to haul him up them anymore. He is very fond of the phrase "Carry You?". In this picture, he's actually pointing at a picture of me and Mr Earth at the cottage that my parents sold last year.

3. What do you do these days to relax? How about before you had a kid?
Relax? What is this thing RE..LAX?? With a full-time job, kid, school and volunteering, it's pretty much non-existent. My best times lately involve pizza, a glass of red wine and America's Next Top Model. Or Veronica Mars, BSG, House, Gilmore Girls, or American Idol. Are you sensing a theme here? Yes, I've devolved to an empty-headed TV watcher. Before Baby, I loved going out to dinner at fancy restaurants, seeing plays, and watching movies in the actual theatre (!). The only relaxant that has remained constant is running (although that's more of a de-stressor than a relaxant). Oh, and the red wine. Don't forget about the red wine...please?

4. High School – evil, institutionalized joke and a time best spent smokin' BTs in the parking lot, or super-awesomest best time of your life and wow, I wish I could still fit into my pink prom dress?
Neither, actually. I did really well in high school academically, I got good marks without really trying, so I liked that part. But I was also a bit of a nerd. (No. YOU, Nomo? A nerd?? Pshaw.) After one uncomfortable year of drifting aimlessly, I hooked up with the theatre crowd and didn't really look back. After that, I was too busy to smoke drugs, or worry about what I would wear to the prom. Which, by the way, was a fifties inspired dress with a black bustier, over-sized black belt with rhinstone buckle, and a white crinoline skirt with black polka dots. I was HOT.

5. What is the one skill that you wish you possessed? Will you ever pursue the attainment of it?
Without a doubt, I would LOVE to be a competitive ballroom dancer. Have you seen those kids move? It's crazy sexy when it's done well. Strictly Ballroom is perhaps my favourite movie ever, and I can't tell you how many times I've watched it. I would kill to play the role of Fran, the nerd who gets transformed into a dynamite dancer. As to actually becoming a ballroom dancer? Sigh. Probably not. I would have to dance with Mr Earth and we collide on the dance floor. He complains that I lead (I do), and I complain that he can't lift me (he can't). I'm too heavy, and he's weak. Also, I have no body flight. But a girl can dream, can't she?

Easter Eggstravaganza

I should be studying for exams right now but it's sooooo boring, so instead I will share with you some photos from our Easter Eggstravaganza Weekend. Ooo posting photos during study time is so naughty...! I'm a wild and crazy gal, I tell ya. All in all it was a great weekend. We had about a gazillion temper tantrums mainly due to over-excitement, but also because I wouldn't let him eat ALL his chocolate in one sitting. We got far too much chocolate. Why the in-laws think that a two-year-old should have a chocolate bunny that is almost half his height is beyond me. All that happens is that Mr Earth and I (meaning mostly me) end up eating it for him. And I wonder why I keep gaining weight...hmm.

But really, this post is all about the gratuitous photos of the Boy, so here goes:

Elmo loves Easter because the Easter Bunny hides chocolate eggs in his crotch. No wonder he keeps laughing like a maniac.

Hands-down the best part of Easter was hiding the eggs in plain sight, giving explicit directions to the Boy to "go look on the chair", and this is the result. Good times.

The reward for mummy making me work so hard. How sweet it is.

Hope everyone had as great a weekend as we did!

Vampires have sucked my brain dry...

Nothing like spending a weekend writing a paper on how Gothic horror fiction uses vampires as a metaphor to really make you brain dead. Umm, or "Undead", as the case may be. Add to that a paper on whether or not Daniel MacIvor's House is a masterwork, and a presentation yesterday that is worth as much percentage as the paper, and I'm done. Finished. I'm afraid there are no more thoughts in my head. I wrote down all the thoughts in my head and it only came to about 17 pages. That's pretty sad, if you ask me. (And please don't ask me anything, I am not capable of coherent thought).

What all this schoolin' has brought me to is the pathetic conclusion that I am not capable of original thoughts. My papers are cited and quoted within an inch of their lives, and I'm sure if I spent more time researching, I would only find out that the lone "original thought" I did have were, in fact, published in some book somewhere. I'm starting to think that mothers of young children are not cut out to go back to school. However, there are people out there who do it, so maybe I'm just lazy? All I know is I want to sleep for about a week, but I can't because I still have two exams to write. O woe is me! To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub. (Shakespeare, Hamlet - mixed lines).

In fact, I find myself "rehearsing" many of my conversations lately, either before or after the conversation has actually happened. I'm so worried that my thoughts are going to come out all jumbled, that I have to practice what I'm going to say before I say it. Is that something that has happened to me because I am a mother, or because it's "part of the mystery that is me" (MacIvor, House)? I wonder.

I just bought the Boy a pair of rainboots at lunch, and it's snowing outside. Good timing. Hope they fit, he has rather wide feet, and apparently, children who wear rainboots are all "delicate snowflakes" (Beck, www.frogandtoadarestillfriends.com) who have very narrow feet.

Things You Don't Want Your Daycare Report to Say

So I get home from class last night, where we watched Ginger Snaps (note to self: don't eat dinner while watching gory horror movies), and I ask Mr Earth how the Boy was.

Him: "You should check out the report."

Me: "Why, is anything wrong? Is he okay?"

Him: "Just check out the report. I can't really explain it."

So, I checked out the report. Usual stuff about toileting and disposition, and this...

I had fun today because:

I played with poop and animals.

I don't know what's more distressing: the fact that he played with poop and nobody stopped him, or that there were animals in the daycare.

Hmmm.

Please Play Again

You have no idea how infuriating these three words are to me. Every day at work, I go down to the Timmies and buy myself a large hot chocolate. They never fill it to the top because they have hot chocolate that comes out of a machine, all they have to do is push button, but the large button doesn't fill the large cup. Fine. Most days I have to wait in a line so long that I'm wondering if anyone really works anymore, or they just show up as a pretense to go get coffee. Fine. I generally get coffee for one or more people and eventhough my hands are full, I'm expected to hold the door for someone else instead of the other way around. Chivalry is dead. Fine. But this RRRRRRRoll up the RRRRRRRim to Win thing is making me TENSE. Cause I don't. Win. Ever. Okay, fine, I've won a free coffee or two. But buying a beverage five out of seven days, you figure you might beat the odds somehow. Now I'm not asking for a million dollars here. I know I'm privileged. I want for nothing, really. I mean, I want a lot of things I don't have, but really - I want for nothing. Far better that the Large Jackpot goes to the person at the end of their rope who doesn't know how they are going to make ends meet this month. I am not that person. I am simply a person who buys a beverage every day of this stupid contest in the hopes that I might see those two lovely little words "Win/Gagnez". And it's not about the prize. Don't get me wrong, I would love a thousand dollars, or a plasma TV. But what I really want is recognition. I want some person - or in this case some cup - to say "you are doing a good job, Nomo, you deserve a prize". It would make my day. Truly. Is that so wrong?

Real Moms

The inimitable Mad Hatter tagged me, oh, ages ago to do this meme about Real Moms. I've been so swamped with course work that I haven't had a chance to write about it before now. It's supposed to be accompanied by photos, but I haven't had time for that either (or rather, I had a few moments, but the photos were crap) so that brings me to my first two points:

1. Real moms don't have time to blog as much as they would like to.
2. Real moms try to take funny pictures for bloggy memes, but look like crap in them and already have low enough view of their beauty that they certainly don't need to post ugly pictures to prove it to the world at large.
3. Real moms have to get up at 5:30am to exercise because they can't find any other time in the day.
4. Real moms constantly have dark circles under their eyes, regardless of whether they had a good night's sleep or not (and they did not - see #3).
5. Real moms have painfully dry hands from overwashing - so much so that they are cracked and bleeding. (Nobody needs to see a picture of that, do they? O woe is me.)
6. Real moms know the exact locations of all local coffee joints, how accessible they are for strollers, and whether or not they have a change table. Oh, and know exactly what they are going to order and how much it will cost, so that they can spend the minimum amount of time in line, yet always seem to end up behind someone who has to read the menu in its entirety before ordering.
7. Real moms spend considerable time wondering where Max and Ruby's parents are, and why Little Bear's parents wear clothes, but Little Bear does not.
8. Real moms are tired.

I'd like to hear from Metro Mama, Motherbumper, and Funny Bunny. If you've already been tagged, I apologize - I haven't been visiting as much as I'd like. Stupid essays. Stupider exams.

Tapestry

HBM has had some lovely thinky posts about narcissism lately. To my mind, it's kind of ridiculous to deny narcissism. Everybody is narcissistic to some extent. We are all the star of our own reality show, and each and every person in our lives are either co-stars or supporting actors. And hell, I'm interested in the minutiae of your life, so why couldn't you be interested in mine? I think people are endlessly fascinating, and never tire of the different ways that different people deal with the same situation. That is precisely why reality tv is such a booming industry. Don't tell me you don't like reality tv, I won't believe you. I thought I didn't like it either. Now I sit glued to the tv when American Idol and Top Model is on. It's the vicarious thrill of superiority, when I can sit on my comfy couch, wear my "fat pants" and say things like "That's the wrong song for her" or "Her eyes are dead in that photo - she should act more". Let it be known that if I were in their exact same situation, I would make all the same mistakes, even armed with the info I have now. If you have a tv, chances are you're watching some version of a reality show. If you're not, it's simply because they haven't invented one that catches your fancy yet. Give it time. They will.

In fact, I would argue that in creating these "mommy blogs" (how did that get to have derogatory connotations, anyways?), we have, in fact created our own reality tv show: "The Mom-iverse". The difference, to me, is that instead of sitting back and criticizing the naive singers and vapid models, I sit back and learn a thing or two from people who are in the same situation as me. Instead of criticizing, I read and think things like "Wow, so that's what you're supposed to do!" or "Wow, I don't think think I know all the meanings of those words, much less think I could use them together in a sentence!". Is it narcissistic to think that someone out there is deriving the same pleasure from reading my blog, from reading the minutiae of my life, that I have in reading theirs? Maybe. If so, I say narcissism is Hot! (Thanks, Paris). Why must we belittle the minutiae? What has the minutiae ever done to you? That is how we live our lives - a series of random moments that create a rich tapestry of life. Of course the minutiae seem unimportant if you don't see it in context. Put together, the individual threads are beautiful to behold. The delicious feeling of watching these "minor" events unfold, in my life and in the lives of the blogs I read, gives me a sense of connectedness. And when I someday sit back and see the tapestry as a whole, I will see it as beautiful not simply because life is beautiful, but because I am invested in that life. I had a part in the creation, even that part was only the minor role of observer.

So, in the interest of keeping this Mommy Blog a proud "tapestry to feel and see; impossible to hold", let me share with you some trivial details of my life, which I maintain are anything but trivial - to me (but then, I am a narcissist)...

In the past week:

1) I took the Boy to 2-year-old birthday party celebrating the birthdays of all the children in my mom's group. It was at Gymboree, and though the Boy didn't participate in any of the group activities (I think he was overwhelmed), he did crawl through tunnels, walk a balance beam, climb over hills, and play basketball with an adult-sized ball. The Boy doesn't normally get this much "gross motor activity", prefering to play with his cars and Little People. He napped for 2.5 hours afterwards.

2) While the Boy and I were outside the house waiting for daddy to come home, a pre-baby runner friend of mine named George jogged by. He stopped to say hello, and we had a short conversation sprinkled with random non-sequiturial comments from the Boy, who didn't like that the conversation was not directed at him. To keep him from protesting too much, I would ask him sporadic questions like "Where's Daddy?" (Daddy's at work), "Where's the Boy's house?" (Over dere). After the last question, the Boy turned to George and asked him "Where George's house?". That's the first time I believe he has ever asked someone a question about a subject that didn't directly relate to him.

3) The Boy started taking my hand to go for walks. In fact, we walked two whole city blocks in this fashion - from Starbucks to the Library, and back again. Up till now, walking, for the Boy has meant "mummy carry you". My heart and my arms have never been so light.


So, if you're out there wondering "What good amid these, O me, O life?", take heart. I, for one, am listening.

Lucky Number Seven

Kgirl at The Kids are Alright tagged me with the following meme: to "list seven songs you are into right now. No matter what they are. They must be songs you are presently enjoying. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to".

This is a tough one for me, actually. I'm always listening to music, but rarely seem to have time to listen to albums anymore. Or maybe I'm just lazy and finding the right CD from our large collection is too much effort. I listen to JackFM and Live365 (usually 80's or 60's music) at work. At home, I listen to our downloaded music on "Random Play" - Mr. Earth is all about the random play feature and I just go with it. I can tell you the songs that turn my crank lately when they come up in the scramble:

1. Love is a Battlefield (Pat Benatar)
Something about the "prostitute with the heart of gold" story always gets me. And a girl who shimmies her defiance of her pimp, and can pull off wearing a feather in her hair gets props in my book.

2. Right By Your Side (Eurhythmics)
The Boy and I dance to this constantly. Well, I dance, and the Boy endures my spastic gyrations. Good times.

3. Band of Gold (Freda Payne)
This. Song. Rocks. Man, I wish I had a voice like this chick.

4. I Don't Like Mondays (The Boomtown Rats)
Do I need to explain why this song speaks to me? Granted, the kid's reaction to Mondays was a bit extreme..

5. Come Sail Away (Styx)
Yeah, man. I like a song by Styx. You gotta problem with that? ...Anyways... the beginning of this song is crazy beautiful. The rest? Comme-ci, comme-ça.

6. Carey (Joni Mitchell)
Love Joni Mitchell. Love. Hands down, this is her coolest song. I often find myself humming it eventhough I still don't know all the words.

7. Anytime (William Finn)
A few weeks ago, Mr Earth took me to see a show called Elegies, by his favourite musical theatre composer. About three quarters of the way through the show, there was a song sung by a mother who had died of cancer. She was singing to her young child who would grow up without her. It broke my heart. It made me want take singing lessons again, simply so that I could somehow attempt to make others feel the way that I felt when I saw this song performed. Most people won't know this composer or this song, so I'm going to post the words now. It may give you an idea of what it's like, but it will not replace what it was like to see it performed live:

Anytime you laugh
Anytime you cry
Anytime you hear a sound
When you're on the grass
Lying on the ground
Anytime you wash your hands
I'll be around
I'm out there on the baseball field
Though I'm well concealed
I'll be out there cheering
I'm out there in the books you read
It is guaranteed
I'm not disappearing fast
Anytime, no not anytime
And I am there each morning
I am there each fall
I am present without warning
And I'm watching it all
Yes I'm watching it all
I am there in music
I am there in sky
I don't know why this thing did happen
But this much is clear
Anytime or anywhere
I am there
Anytime you pray
Anytime you fight
Anytime you gained a pound
Anytime its day
Anytime it's night
Anytime the earth moves
I'll be around
I'm out there in the maple trees
In a summer breeze
On a perfect evening
I'm out there when you celebrate
When the world seems great
I'll be waiting by your side
Anytime, yes anytime
And I am there each morning
I am there each fall
I am present without warning
And I'm watching it all
Yes I'm watching it all
I am there in flowers
I am there in snow
I don't know why this thing happened
But this much is clear
Anytime you cry
Anytime you sing
For anything
And I am there each morning
I am there each fall
I don't know why this thing happened
But this much is clear
Be aware
I am there
I am there
I am there
I am there
I am there
I am there
I am there

For the second part of the meme, I'm supposed to name seven sisters to continue it. Unfortunately, I'm so late to the game, that I think everyone has already done it. If not, please appropriate this meme for yourself and let me know - I'll post your names below. If I reach seven people, I will truly consider myself lucky.

Good Morning Sunshine!

Don't know how your day started, but here's a brief glimpse into mine...

Nomo: I'm hungry. Do you want cereal for breakfast?
Boy: Don't wanna cereal. WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
Nomo: Ok ok, how about some toast?
Boy: (Pause) Sniff. Yeah.
Nomo: Ok, toast. Let's put your Mr. Froggy bib on.
Boy: Don't wanna froggie bib. WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
Nomo: You have to wear the bib.
Boy: WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
Nomo: Do you want butter on your toast?
Boy: No! WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
Nomo: Alrighty then. Why don't we put butter on it just the way you like?
Boy: WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
Nomo: Here's your toast.
Boy: No wanna toast. WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
Nomo: Ok, I'll just sit here and eat cereal then, because that's what I want to eat.

Do you notice a pattern in this conversation? I thought so. To which pattern were you referring: the incessant crying, or my mounting frustration? Enter the Terrible Two. I've done all the reading, I know that toddlers have difficulty communicating and this results in tantrums. I know that you should keep them safe and let them have their cry. I know that you should offer choices so that they feel more in control. Sage advice. But what do you do when the tantrums make you consistently late for work? What do you do when you offer a choice, the Boy chooses neither, so you choose and he loses it? How does this very wise advice play out in real live situations? Or, what, for the love of God, am I doing wrong??

I'm afraid that this conversations paints a poor picture of the Boy. He really is the funniest, quirkiest, most congenial little boy I know. (I'm not biased, of course..). Unless, however, you do something he does not like, or ask him to do something he doesn't want to do. Or offer him a food that displeases him. Then he goes from zero to scream in .5 seconds. And all hell breaks loose.

I know, I know - I should be grateful that I have such an easy-going child the majority of the time. Believe me, I am. I get down on my knees every day and thank whatever gods are listening that such a high-strung person, like myself, should have such a good-natured child, like the Boy. But I would argue that it is precisely this easy nature which makes me wholly unprepared for when Mr. Hyde makes his appearance. I fluster. I flounder. I flop. I lose my cool. And I was not cool to begin with.

It doesn't help that we're both a bit under the weather. (That's not the reason for the breakdown of communication, but it's a factor.) It doesn't help that I've, characteristically, bitten off more than I can chew with this whole school thing and I'm freaking out about the work that must be done in the next three weeks. (This is totally not his fault, it's mine. I try not to let it affect my relations with the Boy, but I can't seem to separate it. Poor Boy.) It most certainly doesn't help that I feel like I'm hanging by a thread.

Ack.

Wild and Crazy Girl Out on the Town

So. Very. Thirsty. On Friday night I met up with a few of my fellow mommy bloggers for drinks at a pub. I was kind of nervous all day, like I was going on a blind date or something - only I wasn't worried whether or not I would be getting lucky at night's end. (I didn't, in case you're wondering - Mr Earth was asleep). Despite the two days of near dehydration, I'm so glad I went. It was very cool to finally meet the pretty faces behind the words. I had such a good time, in fact, that I have been unable to write about it coherently for two days. I'd like to blame it on copious amounts of alcohol, but I only had two Smirnoffs so sadly, I think it's just the mere fact that I'm old. It was quite the night for me...I drank alcohol (in public, not in my basement in front of the Teevee)! I was outside the house after 8pm (lockdown at Casa Earth)! I didn't go to bed till early the next morning (not passed out at 9:30pm)! I met a fabulous bunch of ladies who I hope to see again! AND...we ended the night with chocolate. Good times. (If you're wondering who the crazy lady riding the subway at midnight with three chocolate bars in her greedy mitts was, that, my friends, was me).

Last night we went to see MacIvor's House at Buddies in Bad Times. I'm doing a paper on it for one of my courses, so technically it counts as homework. Elated by eating dinner at a restaurant sans kid and apparently learning nothing from my hungover dehydrated state, Mr Earth and I polished off a bottle of wine before the show. Nothing like doing homework while drunk. (I'm not an alcoholic, shut up!). This is what happens when I'm given some freedom - my weekend turns into drunken debauchery. Anyways the show - if you live in the area and want to see a great show, I highly recommend it. And it's only an hour and fifteen minutes with no intermission, so those of you (like me) who can rarely stay out late anymore without falling asleep will be home early. Part of Buddies' Creator/Performer series, it will be MacIvor's last time performing the show as he is closing his company da da kamera to move on to other projects. It's billed as a "sit-down, stand-up, one-man comedy nightmare", and I dare you not to laugh. It runs till April.

Hey - how did this post turn into a plug for Buddies? All in all, I had a fun crazy weekend. Rarely do I do anything more exciting than ordering an extra shot in my latte. I need to sleep now, thank you. Gotta get ready for the next time! I hope...

Let it slide

It's funny how you just let things slide when you become a mother. Eating proper meals. Keeping the house clean. Exercising regularly. It took me a long time - longer than it really should have based on those "new-mom tips" I was gobbling up like candy when I was pregnant - to realize that this is okay. Carrying a few extra pounds, carpets that look like a crumb-minefield, and ordering takeout for the third time in a week are small prices to pay for quality time with your family. What's been plaguing me lately is this - when is it not okay? When have I let things slide too far?

When I found out I was pregnant, I was in a production of Five Women Wearing the Same Dress. I should have known that I was pregnant because my skin broke out and I was tired all the time, but I was in hell week of the show, and those symptoms could be explained away. Stupid stage makeup. Stupid all-day rehearsals. So I used lots of foundation and drank boatloads of Awake tea. It took bursting out of an ugly prom dress costume that was made for me and getting drunk on two small glasses of wine on opening night for me to realize it. (I'm slow.) Since then, I haven't done a show. At first, it was because the next set of shows would go up in October when I would be visibly pregnant. I didn't think anyone would cast me, and I was worried that I would be too tired even if I was cast. Then the Boy was born and I was too tired. Then I didn't know how to do rehearsals when I was breastfeeding and the Boy wouldn't take the bottle. Then I was back at work and I was too tired. Then I thought I could handle a show, but how could I go to rehearsal at night and on weekends when I barely saw the Boy enough as it was? Then I thought it would be okay to do a show if it was really important to me or my development as an actor. When I weighed the shows out there, very few made the cut. Of the few that did, I didn't get the part. Stupid directors. So, all told, I haven't done a show since I was in my first few weeks of pregnancy. The Boy just turned two. That's a long time.

It would be okay to let it slide, if it wasn't something that was so important to me. But it is. It's part of who I am. Or who I was. I don't know who I am sometimes. And I'm torn between trying to be the best mom I can be, and doing things that make me happy. So far the mom side has been the clear winner. But, as Bub and Pie so eloquently put it, I am entitled to do things that make me happy, not just because it will make me a better mom, but because I am a person and am entitled to the Pursuit of Happyness. (Did anyone see that movie? Whole lot of Pursuit, not very much Happyness..).

So on Tuesday, I had an appointment to get my headshots done. Let me tell you, I have been quaking in my boots ever since I made that appointment. This guy has shot people like Rex Harrington (drool) and that Ginger Snaps girl (what's her name again?). I'm no 20-something with perky boobs and a rock hard ass. What do I wear? I have no clothes that fit. How do I look? Well, my skin is wretchedly dry and I haven't gotten rid of the muffin-top. I still have the thunder thighs, but they're bigger now. Boobs are non-existent. How am I going to pull this off? It got off to a rocky start:

Photographer: So, do you do theatre or film and tv?
Nomo thinking frantically: Nothing. Nothing! Nothing, I do nothing. What should I say here? I got nothing.
Nomo speaking out loud: Um, mostly theatre.

Photographer: Who are you with?
Nomo thinking frantically: Who am I with? What could that possibly mean?? Mr Earth? The Boy? Is he seeing dead people?? OH! Now I get it.
Nomo speaking out loud: I don't have an agent right now, but I'm hoping your pictures will get me one...

Yes, I advise telling the truth in all situations. It's just that sometimes, when I'm caught off-guard, my mind does not always follow the path of truth and light. And sometimes the lies are easier than the long explanation required to tell the truth. (You know you should have just lied when you see their eyes start to glaze over while you're talking). I don't care if I have an agent, I just want to act again sometime. I don't want to be the person I was before becoming a mom - I've changed in a thousand infinitesimal ways and I'm so much better than I was before. But I don't want to lose the things that made old Nomo a good, interesting person too. I don't know whether I'll actually let myself do shows, or I'll end up feeling too guilty again. I hope I don't. It's important to me. But I feel like I should be one of those moms who put everything on hold while their kids are growing up, so I don't miss the golden moments. It would kill me to miss those moments. Is it really all or nothing??

Mom Olympics: Winter '07

Competitor: Nomotherearth
Category: Working Mom, Daycare Division

1st Event: HOUSE PENTATHLON

Description: The goal of this event is to get out of the house on time. During snowstorms, competitors are required to leave the house earlier than usual. Components include Tantrum Throw, Cereal Wrestling, Home-length Running, Snowsuit Jump and Compulsory Singing. Extra points awarded for components that are avoided entirely.

Commentator: "Teams really show their mettle in this one - if one half of the team is not pulling their weight, you're sunk. Nomo's made a poor show at practice lately, but we're hoping she's going to pull through today. Competitors are allowed to wake up as early as they need to based on the weather conditions. Admirably, Nomo managed to get up at 6am, despite a last-minute consultation with Boy at 4:30am. It seems that the Boy was having second thoughts about competing today, but Nomo managed to convince him of the importance of the Olympics and he decided to go back to sleep until the event began. The Tantrum Throw portion was dicey for Nomo - the clothes the Boy wanted to wear were in the wash. It seemed like the tantrum was going to be averted when Nomo managed to find a pair of jeans in a pile of clothes that don't fit properly. However, the Boy's mercurial personality showed through when there was no Elmo diaper available. Still, Nomo managed to make up time in the Cereal Wrestling - at the two-minute warning mark, she got the cereal bowl out of the Boy's hands. He made one last grasp for a handful of cereal which he stuffed into his mouth in a desperate hurry. Next came the Home-length Running. The Boy got off to a good start. He made it from the kitchen to the front of the house in under 2.6 seconds and almost made it out the front door, but was headed off by Nomo who wanted to move on to the Snowsuit Jump. In a stroke of brilliance, she combined the Compulsory Singing and the Snowsuit Jump into one impressive maneuver. The judges seemed to love her rendition of "Here Comes Peter Cottontail", and so did the Boy. It distracted him from his dislike of mittens, and they managed to get out the door a full 10 minutes earlier than usual. Well done!"

Scores
Technical: 8.0
Artistic: 6.2
Overall: 7.2


2nd Event: CROSS COUNTRY STROLLER

Description: Competitors must make it to daycare with only a stroller for transportation. Time is the key factor, as competitors cannot be late for work, doctor's appointments or snack time. During the event, competitors must exhibit a minimum of 2, maximum 5, special skills. Acceptable skills vary depending on the weather and evaluation of said skills are subject to the discretion of the judges.

Commentator: "Here's where we see Nomo in her element. She cut her teeth on Hamilton snowfalls, and is by no means a babe in the woods when it comes to winter survival. She's the clear favourite here. She left the house in fine form, and nimbly displayed her ability to adapt to weather conditions by crossing the street where there was no crosswalk in order to avoid SnowHill Lifting. It seemed to be smooth sailing until all of a sudden the judges threw in a Freestyle Fallen Tree. WOW! We haven't seen that since Winter '05!! We thought that this would stop her in her tracks, but after a moment's hesitation, she went straight into Puddle Jumping. Puddle jumping is a risky undertaking in cross country stroller, mainly because it requires the co-operation of random strangers. Luckily for Nomo, there was a good samaritan at hand. It was a case of Team Lifting, Classical Style. The Puddle Jump left Nomo on the road with no return access to the sidewalk. In a stroke of genius - and, dare we say it, recklessness - she pulled a Downroad Sprint to the nearest puddle and jumped again. What a move! Nomo is really out to win this one. Having demonstrated 4 special skills in one event, we think that she just may do that yet."

Scores
Technical: 9.4
Artistic: 6.0
Overall: 7.7

JUDGES FINAL EVALUATION: 7.5
While Nomo shows great promise, we feel that she has yet to come into her own. Technically, the components are all there and she shows some real grit. Artistically, however, we need to see more. She shows more impatience with the Boy than we feel is acceptable. Yelling at houses who's residents had failed to shovel their walkways is in outright violation of our rules. Also, though she made it to her doctor's appointment on time, the doctor was running extremely late due to weather and she had to re-schedule the appointment and hustle to the subway. Which made her late for work.

This is the Moment

This morning, I was making my way through the milling rush-hour crowds that the Yonge & Bloor subway station - late as usual. I honestly don't know how working mothers get to work on time. It's a skill that I have yet to master, and it's been a year. Anyways, I was stuck behind this tall guy wearing a furry hooded jacket who was walking v e r y s l o w l y, feeling very much like Princess Leia behind the Wookie. (I know I'm showing my age with that reference, but that quote still cracks me up: "Will someone get this big walking carpet out of my way?". Hee, hee!). Turns out this guy was walking so sluggishly because he was busy checking his IPod. Not only is this a pet peeve of mine, but there are few better ways to set off my already fractious morning temperament. I think that people should focus on the task at hand. I'm all for "stopping to smell the flowers", but you're more likely to hear me say "walk like you have a purpose". You can stop and smell the flowers when you get there.

After my temper cooled a bit, I stopped to review. Why was I so angry? Why does it bother me when people put on makeup while driving, read books while walking, or talk on the phone when they're in the loo? I am a multi-tasker at heart, it's part of what makes me who I am. How can I criticize others when I'm not happy unless I'm doing seven things at once? In fact, much to my dismay, I've come to the realization that I'm guilty of multi-tasking when I'm with the Boy.

Last night, I was pretty much at the end of my rope. I had a bad day. I got through the Boy falling and hitting his face on the corner of the table, struggling through the snowstorm with the stroller, angry people yelling at me at work, and my boss interrupting a client call to tell me that I was wrong. I had had enough. The thought of picking up the Boy should have filled me with excitement, but instead I was dreading the energy I would have to spend entertaining a toddler for the next few hours. I just wanted to crawl in a hole and sleep. For a few days. The only way that I could get through that time was to do other tasks simultaneously. It calmed me to know that once the Boy was in bed, I could just crash, instead of doing the multitude of tasks that I do on a regular basis. He watched while I shovelled snow. He ate dinner while I did dishes, he stuck stickers on his shirt while I got things ready for bed. I was not being the best mother I could be. But what hurts the most is not what happened last night. I did what I had to do to get by. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed. What I am ashamed of is that I do things like this on a regular basis. It's so easy to make phone calls while the Boy is playing. To fold laundry. To check emails. To check blogger comments. To not be there for the Boy. To not be in his world. To not be in the moment.

Now, I don't think that you have to "be there" every moment of every day. Especially not if you're a SAHM who is there all day long. Kids need to learn to play independently. They also need to learn that while it might be fun to play all day, that there are chores to be done that are necessary to make home life run smoothly. But I'm not a SAHM and my time with the Boy is even more precious. Do I use that time to focus exclusively on the Boy, or do I continue on my day as if I was there with him all day long? Is there a happy medium? I'm not sure. For me, it's kind of a slippery slope. I'm either completely Boy-focused, or I do one little thing. And then another. And then another.

I think that I need to realize that this is the moment. Every moment that I let slip away is not going to come back. And these are the moments worth living for. The moments to be proud of when the day is done. I should listen to my lovely little Boy whose new sentences include "Mummy play a bit" and "No, sit awhile." Or, to quote Mr Earth's favourite composer, William Finn, "The living was the prize. The ending's not the story."

Acts of Lèse-majesté

One of the things that I like best about the blogosphere is the fact that I get to read other peoples blogs. These incredibly intelligent people help stave off the "mummy dummies" with their insightful posts. They also bring to my attention issues of which I might have been otherwise ignorant. The other day, Her Bad Mother posted about a rather, um, interesting article. If you haven't read it yet, have a look. The gist is that us naive and, well, stupid women "fall for the motherhood trend, hook, line and pacifier, and are bewildered when the experience does not live up to (our) expectations." I'll save you from the majority of my problems with this article. HBM said it much better than I ever could with my limited literary skills, and you can read her post here. Suffice it to say that, as John Cage would put it, this article troubles me.

I won't go into the fact that this article is written by not only a woman, but a mother. I won't delve into how deeply insulting this article is to women in general and mothers in particular. I certainly won't go into the fact that someone who writes such hateful material obviously has deep-seated issues of her own. I will mention briefly that while motherhood is the most rewarding, and the most challenging, venture I've ever undertaken, I don't love all aspects of it all the time. And I resent the fact that to be considered a good mother, I am required to love every minute of every day and never once complain. It's human nature to complain . It doesn't mean that I don't love motherhood, or that I regret my choice to become a mother. Keeping things bottled up inside you is when you get into trouble with a capital "T". And that rhymes with "P" and that stands for "Poop". If you want to know what I really think about this article, that word pretty much sums it up. Poop. Juvenile, admittedly, but strangely appropriate. Motherhood is too complex to say that it's good or bad, fun or boring, fulfilling or draining. It's all of these things. It's vital. It's alive. It's human. It's not perfect, it's human. That's what's so great about it.

But what I really wanted to talk about is the author's assertion that motherhood is not cool. And that we're stuck in hell because we can't put the baby "into the Goodwill bag with the 80s hypercolor T-shirts and the side ponytails" when we realize that it's not the trendy new accessory that we thought it would be. Granted, I'm not the best person to discuss what is cool and what is not, but I have to say that Stajic really missed the boat on this one. In no other aspects of my life am I allowed to get away with the things that I do while I'm being a mum. I can walk down Bloor Street pushing a stroller singing "Here comes Peter Cotton Tail" at the top of my voice. I can laugh like jolly old St Nick in a posh food store. I can scream at an imaginary lion. I can eat pretend cookies from a book. I can say goodbye to cereal boxes, and goodnight to the Great White Shark bank. Where else in adult life can you do these things without looking nutty? Some may consider these acts of lèse-majesté. I consider them acts of love. And that, my friends, is pretty cool.

Because he asked MeMe so nicely...

Mr. Earth was very upset when he found out that there was a meme going around the blogosphere about our better halves. I think his actual words were: "Why aren't you writing about how great I am? Where's the love? Love me!". So, to that end, I'd like to introduce Mr. Earth:

His age: 34

How tall is he: 6'1

How long have you been together (married): 5 years in May 2007

How long did you know each other before you got together?: Started dating about 2 months after we met and dated 4 years before getting married.

What physical features attracted you to him first?: He has sexy, long, lean legs. He should be a runner.

Eye color: Blue or Green depending on his mood, or his shirt.

Hair color: Somewhere between brown and blonde - what is that colour called?

Hair style: Short. But he would like to grow it long, Jesus-style.

Normal Outfit: Slacks, button-down shirt (tucked in), dress shoes. He would look nerdy if he wasn't so cool.

How did you meet: We met in a production of Godspell. He was the policeman and I was the prostitute. It was fate.

How serious is it: I'm hoping it's pretty frackin' serious, or someone's in big trouble.

Are you "in love": Duh, obviously! Although we are best friends, too, and sometimes that's even better.

Do your parents like him: Well, they took us on a trip to Italy with them, so yes. Actually, on that particular trip, they insinuated that they would rather have Mr Earth there than me. Long story.

Do his parents like you: Hard to tell. His mother is British and rather non-demonstrative. His father is mercurial, and it could go either way.

Do you trust him: With my life.

Would you share a toothbrush with him?: Yuck! No thank you.

Would he let you wear his pants?: Sure, but I doubt they'd fit. He's very tall and a lot thinner than I am.

Do you have a shirt of his that you sleep in?: No, but I have worn a shirt of his when I was preggo. That was nice.

Do you like the way he smells?: Usually. When he wears cologne, absolutely. Purrrrrr.

Can you picture having kids with him?: Too late to ask this, but yes. Actually, one of the nicest parts of his proposal was that he said he wanted me to be the mother of his children. Sounds hokey, but it really worked in the moment. Mr Earth is a master of phrasology.

What bothers you the most about him?: He has a nasty habit of repeating the question you just asked v e r y s l o w l y. And not actually answering the question. He thinks it's funny. It's
v e r y a n n o y i n g.

Does he have a temper?: He's pretty easygoing. I'm the hot potato in this duo.

Are you happy to be with him?: Yes.

Does he embarrass you in public?: Always, but it's very endearing and you can't help but laughing. We have a George and Gracie act going that kills at the local WalMart and Home Depot.

Does he smoke or do drugs?: No, and he wouldn't have married me if I did either. We're quite the "anti" couple, considering that many of our friends indulge.

Does he have any piercings?: No. Too George Michael for me

Any tattoos?: He would if I asked him to, but not my name. That is the Kiss of Death to all relationships.

Does he have any scars that you know of?: Gosh - you'd think I'd know the answer to this one. No??

Is he a Party dude or Stay at home?: Stay at home.

Is he Outgoing or Shy?: If you've met him once you would never ask this. Quite possibly one of the most outgoing people in existence today.

Does he love his mama?: He's a total mama's boy.

Would he hang out with you and YOUR friends?: He has on occasion, especially now that some of my friends have kids too.

Sing?: All the time. He's very good. The hard part is to get him to stop singing.

Dead Bunnies and Hot Monkey Lovin'

AKA: How We Celebrate Valentine's Day at Casa Earth

It's true. I've never been a huge fan of Valentine's Day. Why? I'm not entirely sure. Maybe it's that I've spent too many February the 14th's sad and lonely, desperately wishing that I had a boyfriend. Maybe my brother's constant diatribes against the evils of capitalism has finally had an effect on me. Maybe my heart is just two sizes too small. The bottom line is, I don't like to feel pressured to do anything. I would prefer to say "I Love You" when I feel like saying it, not when the calendar dictates that I should. I would prefer to buy Mr Earth little presents throughout the year "just because" instead of having to come up with something wildly creative on the 14th. I'm obstinate.

All this being said, I do expect a present on Valentine's day. Or at least, some kind of acknowledgement. (Ahh, the ironies of life with NoMo...). It's pretty much a no-win situation for Mr Earth, and I appreciate fully the difficult position I put him in. He has risen to the occasion magnificently at times. Our first Valentine's Day in fact, he spent an afternoon sifting through M&M's so that he could put together a jar containing only the green ones. (Green M&M's being the only colour worth eating, in my opinion).

This year, I was worried that my anti-Valentine view would have a negative effect on the Boy, so I decided to embrace it to the best of my limited abilities. (Note: If you want to see Valentine's done right, go see Beck's post here - she the Queen of Holidays) I got the Boy some special Valentine's Day clothes, and sent him to daycare with presents for his friends:

Who doesn't want a little monkey love? I ask you.

Mr Earth had already decided that he was going pay for me to go to my beloved salon to get my hair coloured and cut. This man knows the way to my vain heart. Flowers? Peh. Chocolates?? I could buy them any day. And I do. A lot. But finally getting rid of my roots??? This man deserves some applause! Especially when he brought this home:

Yes that is a "hare" who has been "cut", "coloured", and then dyed.

I love you Mr Earth. You still rock my world.

Just Because..

Just because...my head is so full of coursework, that I feel I have nothing interesting to say (unless you want to discuss the future of theatre in Canada, or the merits of Lovecraft's writing style...Takers?? I thought not).

Just because...I want to remember how easy it was to get outdoors when all I had to put on the Boy was a light jacket, shoes and a sun hat.

Just because...I'm tired. So tired that I feel like I will never be fully rested again. So tired that I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, or with a drop of alcohol. So tired that even when I do have time to sleep, it's a restless slumber, waiting for the shattering alarm clock. So very, very tired.

Just because...I want to feel what it's like to be able to joyously run down a forest path with nary a worry other than whether or not there will be a snack at the end, and if there's someone to carry me when I get tired.

Just because...this picture makes me happy.

Wall of Weird

We interrupt our regularly-scheduled programming to bring you this update. NotSoSage tagged me to let you in on you six weird things that you don't already know about me. My greatest trouble was how to choose only six items. Apparently, I'm a freak...

1. I AM RIDICULOUSLY AFRAID OF SNAKES.
This may not be all that weird, but I include it here because of the immensity of my aversion. Not only do I not like to be around snakes, but I can't even look at a picture of a snake. Snakes and Ladders? No thank you. Snakes on a Plane? Fuggedaboudit. I don't care how good that movie was supposed to be. The Boy's cousin, Golden Girl, had an animal handler at her 4th birthday party a few weeks ago. I had to sit in a room a few feet from an actual snake. Then he took it out of the box. I think I threw up in my mouth just a little. He asked me if I wanted to put it around my neck. My answer was a bit snappish.

2. I'M PRETTY SURE I'VE SEEN A GHOST.
One summer during university, I had a sleepover with a couple of my classmates at my parents house in Hamilton. My parents were at the cottage and I was afraid to sleep alone. In fact, I spent most of that summer being a cranky half-drugged insomniac. Despite this, I am not imagining what happened. I went to sleep and about an hour later, I woke up in a start because I was certain that a man was standing at the end of my bed looking at me. I sat up and immediately turned on the light to see who was in my room. My friend asked me what was wrong, and I apologized for waking her. She said she had been awake for a few minutes before I turned on the light, because she thought that someone was in the room.

3. I'VE DONE A COMMERCIAL FOR MENOPAUSE RELIEF.
Yes, I am in my early mid-thirties, and I have already been in a commercial for a natural hormonal supplement for menopause relief, Estroven. What's more, I did this commercial when I was in my mid-twenties. Granted, I was the daughter in a mother/daughter combo, I had no lines, and most of our footage was cut because the woman playing my mother was ridiculously bad at taking direction, but still! As if it's not embarassing enough that I am a "non-practising" actor, but I have to explain to former classmates that one of my few professional gigs had to do with hot flashes? My only consolation is that I got paid VERY well for essentially no work. Gotta love them US commercials...!

4. I GO TO SLEEP PREPARING FOR ATTACK.
No matter what happens, no matter where Mr Earth and I lay our heads for the night, I must be on the side of the bed that is farthest from the door. Without exception. My theory is that if some intruder comes into our bedroom, he's going to get Mr Earth before he gets me, and at least I'll have time to wake up and face the intruder before I'm attacked. (I'm a good wife, no...?). The first four months after giving birth, I slept on the opposite side of the bed so that I would be closer to the bassinette. I swear that I did not sleep easily one night in those four months and it had nothing to do with the fact that we had a baby. My body audibly sighed in relief when we switched back to our normal positions. I don't know who I think is going to attack me. Most people either ignore me, or don't know I exist. I'm just plain crazy.

5. I AM A CAT'S WORST NIGHTMARE.
I love cats. Cats suit my disposition perfectly -- I am a bit of a loner who accepts affection only when I'm good and ready for it. I also like playing with furry balls. (But I digress...) However, cats I have loved have all met an untimely end. Shadow had some rare bowel disease and died a few weeks after birth. Blancmange ran away. Smudge visited the farm that she came from while the family was on vacation, and was never heard from again. Peekay and I had irreconcilable differences, and he found that he liked living with my parents better than me. Rocky had an undetected heart condition which caused his untimely death. Willow, our current cat, is safe and healthy only because I can't stand her. She skulks around the house, runs away from anyone other than Mr Earth, constantly leaves us "presents" to show her displeasure, and has not accepted the Boy's presence in the house eventhough he has been living there for over two years. In short, my love kills and my hate is life-giving. Yay! Don't you want to invite me over for tea now??

6. I HAVE WORD VERIFICATION ISSUES.
For some unknown reason, I am unable to type the word verfication correctly when commenting on blogs. I. Can. Not. Do. It. Period. I have spent a disproportionate amount of time resolutely trying to type in the correct letter. Am I slow-witted? Am I finally going blind?? Suffice to say, if I haven't commented on your blog lately, it's probably because I gave up on the word verification in exasperation.


I'd like to share the weird with NoodleMonkey and Metro Mama. Show me what you've got! Please..? I'm feeling very "weird" out here on this ledge all by myself.

Arrivals and Departures

I picked the Boy up at 4:30 the other day - almost an hour earlier than usual. My class ends at 4pm, and there's no way I was going to go back to the office just so that I could pretend to work. Apparently, an early departure was not in the Boy's plan. Everyone was having their snack, and they looked at me like I was an alien. I had to sit there while the Boy ate multiple crackers, and kept asking for more. The new kid deposited his half-masticated banana in my hand and proceeded to climb on my new coat with his unwashed banana-hands. (Yum! Who are you again, kid??). Then the Boy would simply NOT put on his winter gear. He kept standing, sitting, walking, sleeping and performing the "dead fish" move on me. It took half an hour (!!!) to get out of the damn daycare. Bad times.


This morning, I had to walk to daycare in the minus-gazillion-with-the windchill weather. Mr Earth was conducting interviews in Waterloo, so the Boy and I had to make do with the stroller for transportation. The Boy helped put on his "po-pants" (snowpants, for those unused to toddler-speak) by lying back. He actually allowed me dress him in full winter regalia, hat, scarf, mittens (!!!), and boots. The only whisper of complaint was that he wanted to put on the boots before the snowpants. I got him into the stroller and out the door in record time. I was even allowed to use the heretofore forbidden windshield and plush Winnie blanket. Have I mentioned how ridiculously cold it was today? By the time we arrived at the daycare, the windshield was frozen in place. The Boy's little voice, buried under many layers, piped up "I stuck!". I couldn't remove the windshield, so I tried to get him to duck under it. That didn't work, but he spontaneously pulled the "dead fish" move, and slid out from under it. I had never appreciated the versatility of that move until today. Good times.

The Boy's First Report Card

I used to think that giving report cards to toddlers was a little bit silly, but I have since been grudgingly won over to the idea. It only makes sense that the teachers who spend five days a week with the Boy have an opinion with regards to his development. I still jealously guard the idea that I know him better than anyone else, though, and I defy people to convince me otherwise.

However, we all know that kids behave differently at school than they do at home --Stephanie from Degrassi, does this ring a bell to anyone? So, let's see what they have to say (and because I can't just say nothing, I'll add my comments too):

LANGUAGE DEVELOPMENT
The Boy is able to communicate with short sentences by using one to two words to get his point across. He enjoys circle time and expresses himself with body language or sing-a-longs. (He is actually using up to six words in a sentence, but averages about three or four. I'm not surprised that he uses one to two words normally. He's learnt how to get what he wants with the minimal effort. He got that from us. Smart Boy!)

COGNITIVE DEVELOPMENT
The Boy is very interested when viewing pictures or books and focuses during story time. The Boy likes to respond to questions that are asked by his teachers. He can remember all the names of the other children. He can also recognize all animals and identify what sound each one makes. (I've said before that the Boy is freakishly good at remembering people's names. He met a girl in the park once, and spent the rest of the week screaming "Lila" at the top of his lungs whenever I said we were going to the park. He can also remember the names of each of his grandparents' pets - five names all counted. Freakish!)

MOTOR DEVELOPMENT (Fine/Gross)
The Boy uses a lot of fine motor skills. He loves to play with playdough, cars and building blocks. Outside he is able to climb alone on the toys with some assistance of the teachers. In the playground he rides the tricycle and kicks or catches ball. (Hmm. Now this is helpful. I agree that the Boy is especially good in the area of fine motor skills. I thought that his gross motor skills weren't as advanced. Maybe we just don't do enough of these activities at home? Something to ponder...)

FOOD CONSUMPTION/SLEEPING BEHAVIOURS
The Boy tries new foods during lunch and snack time and eats very well. At nap time he will fall asleep with no assistance. He will sleep for approximately one and a half hours per day. (Who? What?? Tries new foods??? Clearly, this is a comment meant for someone else's kid. Either that, or he is really susceptible to peer pressure.)

SOCIAL INTERACTION (Peers/adults)
The Boy is a very friendly child and interacts with his peers and teachers. He understands the teachers and follows the routine of the classroom. He is also very comfortable with Rob Joy, the music teacher, and engages himself during his music class with sing-a-longs. (Yes, yes, yes! This is the Boy that I know. He loves the days that Rob comes in, and can't stop talking about him. I love when he tries to sing the songs to himself on the way home. I have no idea what he is saying, and he generally sticks to one note, but he always makes me smile.)

INAPPROPRIATE BEHAVIOURS TO MONITOR (if appl.)
N/A. (Not sure which "inappropriate behaviours" we're talking about here. The Boy is practically perfect in every way, but like any two-year-old, he has interesting ideas of what is appropriate behaviour. Right now, he thinks the words "OW!" and "Stop, please!" are funny, and they are no deterrent whatsoever.)

ADDITIONAL COMMENTS
The Boy is comfortable with the staff in the room and his friends as well as other parents. He is always involved in trying new activities in the room. Keep up the good work! (That's my Boy!)


Good job, kid, you're fantastic! We'd love you no matter what they said, naturally. We still know you best. Love, Mum XO