5 a.m. coffee

My relationship with coffee is slightly abnormal. Most mornings I really don't mind waking up with one or both of the little ones at 5 a.m. because of the hazelnut vanilla reward that awaits. My children, even little A (eleven months) light up at the familiar sight of my ceramic Charles Wysocki mug: two cats dozing by a fire.  It's gotta be that mug.  Even D's double-walled, litre-sized stainless steel Starbucks mug doesn't work. This morning, B and I were up just after five. I dragged myself out of bed, set up a Magic School Bus video for B and filled up my mug. This is what happened:

B wrapped my mug in a dishtowel, because "Mommy, I didn't want you to burn your fingers on your coffee." :) I love it how you give and give and give as a parent until you are empty and then your tiny child gives back to you. It doesn't matter how small the gesture is. It's there. It says "I love you. Thank you."

No firefighting today, thanks.

I was talking to another momma on the playground today. I had to laugh when she got quiet and whispered to me, "You know, I really don't like 'playing' all that much with my children. I love baking with them, reading to them and doing other things, but how many times can you pretend to be a fairy and fly around the house?" I totally agreed. B's favorite thing to do is play firefighters. His chosen partner gets to don the red hat, grab the black tubing we use to water the Christmas tree and race around the house putting out fires. I don't mind doing it once or twice, but 10 times? Yawn! Why are we as moms unable to admit that we are bored to tears by our children's play sometimes? Why do we feel guilty for not wanting to do something that is developmentally appropriate for 4 year olds? There seems to be such a fine line between entertaining our children and encouraging them to be independent. I keep flipping over the line, back and forth, trying to find a happy medium. As I write this post, Little A is sleeping and B is happily putting Mr.Potato's nose on the head and ears in the arm holes. He's completely content and doesn't need/want me for anything. I say, enjoy these moments of quietness and not being needed.

I'm back, finally!

It's time to give blogging a try again. Hopefully this time I will manage more than one post.  Our new laptop is tempting me to write. Since I've been using my iphone for everything in the last year, it feels like a luxury to use a keyboard again. That's what happens when you have a second baby and the desktop is in the (cold, dark, spider-filled) basement. :)

Christmas with a toddler is like nothing I've ever experienced.

I forgot what Christmas was really about. It is utter joy and amazement at a light-up snowman in a random window. It is anxiously peering around the corner to make sure the neighbours have remembered to turn on their Christmas tree. It is picking up tree needles from the carpet and carefully placing them back on a branch. It is staring in wonder at the Holiday Fireplace channel on T.V. for 10 minutes straight. It is stretching out 9 strings of Christmas lights in the basement and exclaiming "Wooooo!" each time a string is plugged in, no matter how many times you've done it. It is seeing a mall Santa and yelling "ho ho ho!" for the first time ever. It is wearing fuzzy red pyjamas and running full-bore into your mommy's arms. It is gazing at your first nativity scene and proclaiming "baby Jesus is sleeping!"