tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-120426792011-04-21T14:06:49.520-04:00A childcare provider is expected to be a superhuman mix of the Madonna and Mary Poppins, ever patient, loving, kind, always delighting in the sweetness of her charges. I don't do such a bad job, all in all, and it's far more likely the parents than the children who strain my sanity most days. But I'm here to tell you: It Ain't ALL Mary Poppins...Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.comBlogger7251100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1168885720454222252007-01-15T13:26:00.000-05:002007-01-15T15:50:38.730-05:00

The time has come. You all can find me here, now. Drop by soon! Mary ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2007, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1161974082224803542007-01-12T14:01:00.000-05:002007-01-12T15:21:16.336-05:00

I am not very concerned with externals. I listen to other mommies... "I left the child with dad, and when I came back, she was wearing odd socks... "Can you believe he took him out in a plaid shirt and striped pants??... "It never fails. If I let dad take her to school, she'll be wearing the same shirt from yesterday!" (Note how it's almost always dads who get skewered.) I listen and I just can't

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1168548123012401412007-01-11T14:53:00.000-05:002007-01-11T15:42:03.390-05:00

Out with The Stroller again. Malli has walked the mile to the mall, and now gets to ride in the front seat of the stroller, while Nigel walks alongside. We create our usual stir. This time we pass through a crowd of seniors which includes a couple of class clowns. "You sure you got them all?" one calls. "One-two-three-four! Yup. All accounted for!" I grin at the gents, and slow the stroller so

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1168437206284691402007-01-10T13:07:00.000-05:002007-01-10T13:02:16.536-05:00

Too cold for the park today; we've been to the library already this week, so it's the coffee shop! One baby on my lap, two in high chairs, Nigel in a big-people chair all by himself, because he is a Big Boy. One latte, four waters, three bananas, and 25 minutes later, we leave. The woman at the next table, a rather severe woman in a very tailored suit, who had greeted our arrival with a dubious

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1168264690525620752007-01-09T07:44:00.000-05:002007-01-09T09:10:12.900-05:00

"You need to go potty? Yay, let's go potty!" Justin is my grand-nephew (I think that's it) - my sister's grandchild. He's interested in and reasonably co-operative with the potty venture, but what he lacks is Staying Power. "Potty!" he'll yodel, and plonk his butt down. Six wriggly seconds later, he's up again. There's no convincing him that he needs to sit still and reeelaaaax in order for

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1168274592768388052007-01-08T06:31:00.000-05:002007-01-08T14:07:13.116-05:00

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" "Oh, Emily, that's not your book. That's Timmy's book. Here, you can have a book of your own. Here's your book." Anna looks up. "Buh!" "Book! Good for you, Anna! Emily and Timmy have a book. Book. Does Anna want a book?" "Buh." "All right. Here's your book." Timmy looks over with interest. "Buh!" "Book! Atta boy! Yes, Now Anna has a book, too." Anna waves hers

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1168182082260331072007-01-07T08:14:00.000-05:002007-01-07T10:15:57.510-05:00

I love Bill Bryson. This will undoubtedly come as a surprise to him, but he strikes me as the kind of man who could manage the shock. I've read a bunch of his books, starting with my still-favourite, "Notes from a Small Island", a book which had me crying with laughter at points, and which started my mild Bryson addiction. Today's book, the mother tongue, english and how it got that way, is a

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1168013263693991192007-01-05T07:39:00.000-05:002007-01-05T11:22:07.146-05:00

The Happiest Baby on the Block, by Harvey Karp Believe it or not, I only read this book this week! I've heard of Dr. Karp, of course - he's the swaddling doctor - and I was curious. I rarely buy a reference book without reading it first, so I went to the library, and discovered that I was number 48 on a wait list! Popularity doesn't always mean Good Book, however, but it did increase my curiosity

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1167952489186045852007-01-04T17:22:00.000-05:002007-01-04T18:14:49.650-05:00

I read Middlemarch for the first time when I was 19, an assigned book in The Most Boring Class of my University Career. The book was a highlight of the class, but that would be damning it with faint praise. I loved it enough to reread it about once a year for several years. What was its appeal? At the time I would have said simply that I enjoyed the multiple plot strands, a 19th century soap

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1167914107528511422007-01-04T07:15:00.000-05:002007-01-04T07:42:04.753-05:00

Like many of my friends, I have a vaguely benevolent attitude to the rest of the world: I feel sad that there are homeless, I am pleased that gays have the right to marry in my province, I am angered by the plight of abused women and children. But, I confess, it rarely goes beyond feelings. We have foster kids in third world countries, I routinely drop a loonie or a twonie in an outstretched

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1167746149745723602007-01-03T06:49:00.000-05:002007-01-03T08:12:51.463-05:00

...from Sassy Student. Posting challenge for January: "a book...every day, all month long. If you'd like to participate, please do! There are no rules, except you must post a book every day. It can be a book you love, a book you hate, a book that impacted you. Whatever you wish. You may review it, or just tell why it matters; you may post a picture from Amazon or your own copy. Whatev. Up to you

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1167750217242360852007-01-02T09:55:00.000-05:002007-01-02T10:03:37.576-05:00

There's always one gift that stands out from the rest. The book was great, the calendar funny, the wine glasses pretty and much-needed, and the hinged seat for my piano bench will be hugely useful (when it's finished, Adam), but it was this one that will be The Gift of 2006. Lovingly handcrafted by Haley, we have... Sock Monkey Mary. BWAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!! ~~~

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1167418789661122402006-12-29T13:50:00.000-05:002006-12-29T14:01:59.166-05:00

My BIG kids, that is. I'm still on holiday. Here we have Emma (13), Haley (21), Adam (17). Haley made cookies, with Emma as sous-chef. The girls are getting predatory. The boy's a beat behind, but considering... And he's in!! Christmas cookies! YUUMMMmmmm.... ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1166873288433874842006-12-23T06:24:00.000-05:002006-12-23T06:28:11.730-05:00

Merry Christmas, Everyone! I may be by from time to time, but my plans include only savouring these days with my family - and a little time to myself, too! I hope you all enjoy the season, too, each in your own way. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1166817810838037532006-12-22T14:55:00.000-05:002006-12-24T07:49:35.976-05:00

Daycare Christmas party starts in about an hour. Eleven families invited; one couldn't make it; one didn't bother to RSVP. Total attendees: Fourteen adults, eleven children. Plus my family of five, only one of whom - me - is obliged to attend. I expect lots of good food, volume, crowding, and a need to open windows by 6 p.m. Will tell you about it tomorrow, perhaps. If I don't get back before

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1166711076035976322006-12-21T06:10:00.000-05:002006-12-21T09:24:37.196-05:00

My tree is up. Most of you know how challenging it can be to keep ONE tot away from a tree. Imagine keeping five away. Not to fear. I am Experienced, and I am Creative. In previous years, the tree has been: - wired to the ceiling - placed inside a playpen - set upon a table and wired to it - placed behind a baby gate - set up undecorated - decorated only with unbreakable ornaments - wired with

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1166533055437991202006-12-19T07:43:00.000-05:002006-12-19T08:10:37.183-05:00

"What's dat?" Nigel has arrived for the day, and has stopped in the middle of removing his boots to stab a pudgy finger toward the ceiling. "That's mistletoe, sweetie. You know what it's for? It's for KISSING!!" Nigel receives a stream of boisterous smooches, starting with his chubby cheeks and working down under his soft little chin. He shrieks in delight. A few minutes later, Adam comes

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1166203883901648302006-12-17T12:27:00.000-05:002006-12-18T08:36:50.996-05:00

Case in point: Aaron, a mere five weeks into dadhood, has come up with a seriously brilliant parenting gizmo. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1166034072551784452006-12-15T06:07:00.000-05:002006-12-15T09:22:30.170-05:00

George and Darcy sing as they build block cities on my kitchen floor. George: On the fuhwust day of Cwiss-muss, my twoo love gave to me, A pawtwidge in a pay-uh twee. On the second day of Cwiss-muss, my twoo love gave to me... gave to me... gave... Two... birds in a tree! On the third day of Cwiss-muss, my twoo love gave to me, three Fwench hens, two birds in a tree, and a pawtwidge in a pear

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1166123713504402572006-12-14T14:13:00.000-05:002006-12-14T14:15:13.633-05:00

Forgot to mention. New post up at PiP. Entirely frivolous. Go have a look, if you like. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1166033273785802512006-12-14T06:05:00.000-05:002006-12-14T07:56:23.996-05:00

Nigel awaits his lunch, singing to while away the time. "Jingle ball! Jingle ball! Jingle ball inna way!" A cat toy? A festive dance? A seasonal male ailment? Whatever it is, it needs to move outta the way! ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1166011483509070572006-12-13T07:03:00.000-05:002006-12-13T07:04:43.660-05:00

Is now open. Away you go! ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1165671598677324692006-12-13T06:06:00.000-05:002006-12-13T07:33:02.163-05:00

When my oldest was very little, I noticed something. It happened in the weeks coming up to Christmas. It happened All.The.Time. It seemed delightful the first time, innocuous the tenth time, even the twentieth time, but by the hundredth time, I was beginning to have serious concerns. I am out in a mall, first week of December. A neighbour, a friend, a little old lady approaches, smile at my

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1165592649884000092006-12-12T07:38:00.000-05:002006-12-12T08:48:19.893-05:00

George and Darcy are here! They are so BIG! Darcy has slimmed right out. He's not a stocky little toddler any more, he is a boy - and a good-looking one at that. George always was on the slender side, so his growth spurt is less dramatic. Two tall, slim boys are in my home. Wow. Today is a PD (Professional Development) day, meaning the teachers go to school and the kids have the day off. (For

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1165840088425256212006-12-11T07:17:00.000-05:002006-12-11T07:41:23.900-05:00

The previous post described the 'why' of the auction. This post gives some 'how-to'. 1) This auction is in fact more of a raffle. Tickets are purchased for a specific prize, and winners will be drawn at random. You can, of course, increase your chances of winning a particular item by placing all of your tickets on that item. 2) All proceeds go to Muscular Dystrophy Canada. 3) Tanner is a

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1165667048285650972006-12-09T07:11:00.000-05:002006-12-11T07:31:07.963-05:00

Some months ago, Her Bad Mother discovered that her nephew, Tanner, has Muscular Distrophy. For Tanner's story, follow the link. Take kleenex. What can you do in the face of something so cruel and inexorable? The only thing to do is offer what support you can. When you're in the room with the person, that might mean holding their hand in silence. When you're a stranger, miles away, and feel

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1165499990669126432006-12-08T06:22:00.000-05:002006-12-07T19:24:50.343-05:00

We Parents of Teens have a Serious Discussion. About children and parenting and decision and guidance. Sitting across the dining table. "I think what I need to do is sit down with him and point out the decisions that face him." "Yes, because he tends to drift, and then a decision is made by default," "- a result of passivity -" " - and he doesn't realize he's even made a decision." "Exactly.

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1165500370745750592006-12-07T09:00:00.000-05:002006-12-07T09:06:10.753-05:00

To Haley!!! Who is now Twenty-One years old. (Not such a big deal here, with a voting age of 18 and a drinking age of 19...) But definitely an Adult. Happy Birthday, Biggest Girl! ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1165415393463850252006-12-06T06:16:00.000-05:002006-12-06T09:31:17.580-05:00

Stolen from Jen. 1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate? Mulled wine. Egg nog is too sickly sweet, and hot chocolate? I can have that any time! 2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Wraps them. (Well, he did back when we had presents from Santa. The kids are past that now.) 3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? Coloured! Lots and lots of lovely colour! 4. Do you hang

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1165351052016810722006-12-05T14:16:00.000-05:002006-12-05T15:37:32.383-05:00

"No-soot! No-soot! No-soot! Outside!" "That's right. We're going outside, Nigel. We're putting on your nice blue snowsuit. One leg... There! And your oth--" "Hat! Hat! Hat! Hat! Hat! Hathathathathathathathathathathat..." "Your hat comes next, bud. Right now, we're still putting on your snowsuit." "Hat! Hat! Hat! Hat! Hat!" "Snowsuit. One arm, the other --" "Hat! Hat! Hat! Hat! Hathathathat!

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1165261311986235732006-12-04T14:51:00.000-05:002006-12-04T16:44:39.323-05:00

7:45, Emily arrives, wailing. Soothe mom, send her to work. Calm baby. Read her a story. 8:00, Emily down for nap. 8:07, take call from Emily's mom, who hasn't calmed down quite as quickly as her daughter. Poor sweetie. (Emily's mom, I mean. Emily is fine - sleeping like a baby, in fact.) 8:15, Nigel arrives. 8:20, and Timmy. Timmy's mother warns me that he has a bit of a -- Timmy sneezes,

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1164987437122510812006-12-01T13:25:00.000-05:002006-12-01T10:37:17.356-05:00

I know it's fashionable to go on about how much you hate hats, but I've always quite liked them. It can be tricky finding the right hat, no denying that, but once I've found the right one, I love wearing it. (Do I have any at the moment, besides functional-but-boring winter tuque-y things? No, I do not. But the principle stands. Hats can be fun!) Seems the parents feel the same way about

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1164908236265915272006-11-30T13:27:00.000-05:002006-11-30T12:53:37.610-05:00

...but the focus of interest remains the same. Nigel climbs up on the bench beside me at the dining table, now a cheerful heap of red, green, white, and glittery craft detritus. Less than a month to Christmas! The aroma wafting from the boy, though, is not at all festive. "Phew, Nigel. You got a poop in there, buddy?" This would be your classic rhetorical question. "Gotsa poop!" "Well, let's

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1164849680226737372006-11-29T20:19:00.000-05:002006-11-29T20:21:20.376-05:00

Go check out Kat's Big Surprise! ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1164829810296248402006-11-29T14:14:00.000-05:002006-11-29T14:50:11.100-05:00

How long can this lovely mild weather continue? I don't know, but I'm loving it! While I completely understand - and share! - the concerns about environment change, here in Canada it's hard not to see a silver lining to this whole global warming thing... So off we go, following our noses, seeing where they take us. They take us to the path along the canal, where we see "Guck! Guck! Gucks!" (

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1164717034473286122006-11-28T07:13:00.000-05:002006-11-28T07:30:34.900-05:00

"Women who have had augmentation surgery are three times more likely to commit suicide." Emma and I haven't been paying attention to the kitchen radio, but this pronouncement catches our attention. Seems the CBC is discussing cosmetic surgery. Emma's voice rises from the fridge in which she rummages. "Well, duh. They must have terrible self-esteem." I'm pleased that she's made that connection

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1164636891258571352006-11-27T06:59:00.000-05:002006-11-30T11:50:56.930-05:00

Sometimes the nicest things happen through blogging. I've met a woman (hi, Jen!) I'd otherwise never have known, I've had dozens of email conversations about interesting things with interesting people (too many to list), and more than a few trans-continental phone calls! (You know who you are!) I've even made some friends. ("Even" because acquaintances are easy; 'friends', in my experience, are

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1164637109950651042006-11-27T06:17:00.000-05:002006-11-27T09:18:46.540-05:00

Happy Birthday, Jeremy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1164389417260843922006-11-24T12:28:00.000-05:002006-11-24T12:30:17.433-05:00

Check out this cool idea! Grab your cameras and capture some street art - then send him the link. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1164386403789856702006-11-24T11:33:00.000-05:002006-11-24T11:40:03.933-05:00

Our first Christmas card arrives! "From your friends at PharmaRite." Emma looks up, puzzled. "We have friends at PharmaRite?" "Now that we've returned our stolen goods, we do." "Oh. Did you do that already?" "I thought you guys did that last night, when you went out." "Noooo.." Emma looks guilty. Probably didn't want the embarrassment. "Gah." Oh, well. I can do it. I'll just make sure I

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1164219871635986162006-11-22T13:09:00.000-05:002006-11-22T13:24:44.346-05:00

Anna wakes from her nap. She's a snuggler upon waking, and usually likes to sit in my lap for a few minutes before joining the others. I enjoy it, too. She leans again me, warm and cuddly, the top of her head just the right height for a quick kiss now and then. I pick up her hand as it lays in her lap and give the back of the pudgy hand a squeeze and another kiss. Anna's whole body tenses, and

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1164152576859284462006-11-21T18:41:00.000-05:002006-11-21T18:42:57.006-05:00

here. And that's enough writing for one day! ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1164051383192953252006-11-20T13:17:00.000-05:002006-11-20T14:36:24.046-05:00

I begin my life of crime. Took the tots to the mall today. One day I will have a hidden camera trail me, just so you can experience what it's like to walk behind my stroller. People stop dead in their tracks. People do double takes that must hurt. Old men on benches punch each other and laugh as we pass. Little kids shriek. Grandma types come over to coo. Mothers either laugh or groan or simply

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1155064973169251902006-11-17T13:22:00.000-05:002006-11-17T13:36:22.643-05:00

A very old one from the draft file. (Arthur, a former client, was four when this was written; Adam is my son, age 17.): Arthur presents Adam with a sheet of paper. "Look. I drawed an H and a D and an O. What does that say?" "Well, those letters in that order don't make a word. Not all the letters mix to make words. They have to be in just the right order, too." "I will go put in some more

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1163693006368963122006-11-16T10:54:00.000-05:002006-11-16T13:48:28.060-05:00

Laura (Mommapalooza) was musing on some pregnancy memories, and got me thinking back (waaay back) to my first pregnancy, when the hormones and all that extra blood flow to the brain had my creativity charged to monumental new peaks. My creativity, and a bunch of other bits. You know the Fred Penner song called "The Bump"? It's a lively little ditty which starts out, I'm a bump, ba-bump, ba-bump

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1163620357730720372006-11-15T14:19:00.000-05:002006-11-15T14:52:38.226-05:00

The children busy themselves with crayons. Anna, Emily, and Timmy sit in high chairs ranged round the table. Nigel sits on the bench, because he is a Big Boy. They have papers, large, overlapping papers taped to the table, they have crayons, one in each fist, most of them. They have a little modelling and assistance, courtesy of the Adult in Charge. (Me. Why?) They are all Set to Scribble. Do

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1163533584713511332006-11-14T13:55:00.000-05:002006-11-14T16:15:30.923-05:00

Spoon: a common eating utensil, or item of cutlery, somewhat like a small spade, with a bowl-shaped end on a handle, that occurs in a number of sizes and forms. Its main [purpose is] for conveying food to the mouth... Wikipedia Well, maybe in some places. Places more civilized than my dining room. So far this lunch time, spoons have been used to: - spray lasagna across the dining room table -

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1163442278057592212006-11-13T13:20:00.000-05:002006-11-13T13:24:38.280-05:00

A new baby starts next week. She spent a couple of hours here today. Emily, I think, will do just fine. She's cheerful. She's social. She's doesn't make strange. She's alert and inquisitive. She's a busy little explorer with a ready smile. And if all that weren't enough.... She sleeps!! From 6:30 p.m. to 7:00 a.m., and twice a day, 1.5 hours each time. Three cheers for Emily's mommy and daddy

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1163371587360057452006-11-12T17:42:00.000-05:002006-11-12T17:48:52.226-05:00

Has your baby ever scared the living daylights out of you? Prepare to empathize with poor momma panda, just savouring a quiet moment and a relaxed meal while her baby naps... (p.s. What WAS that? Just a sneeze.) ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1163258406600437992006-11-11T09:42:00.000-05:002006-11-11T15:29:39.896-05:00

It's Remembrance Day, of course, the day we commemorate the losses of life in the First and Second World Wars, but to the kids, it's "Poppy Day". Poppy day, because everyone wears poppies in the days leading up to the Remembrance Day services, and, here in Ottawa, many people then leave their poppies atop the Tomb of the Unknown Solder after the service at the War Memorial downtown. "Everyone",

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1163168530468533822006-11-10T09:17:00.000-05:002006-11-10T09:22:10.476-05:00

This is the view from the back of the bus. Note the one empty seat? That's for Emily, who starts next week! ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1163128859223248972006-11-10T05:40:00.000-05:002006-11-10T08:14:20.516-05:00

My sister called this evening. "Hey, I saw you in Macleans*!" "It's out? But it's not on the website!" That'll teach me to be too cheap to buy a hard copy once a week... but, my sister tells me, if you look on page 51 of the November 6th issue, there I am! Cynthia Reynolds, who interviewed me back in August, graciously allotted me an entire paragraph - and a reference to this very blog - in a

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1163093531967240672006-11-09T12:25:00.000-05:002006-11-09T12:50:39.680-05:00

And here I always thought it was words connected with sex that had the most euphemisms! We've got - my this, nunu, sucker, pats, suckie or soothie, do-do (which 'round here is used to label the stuff the dog leaves behind), pass, plug, eye-yi, foffer, pucky, snoop, Mr.B, titties, baby plug, an 'uh-oh', and then, for more international flare, smoczek (or smok for short). And, if what Mamabear

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1162997327697219982006-11-08T13:46:00.000-05:002006-11-08T13:39:38.930-05:00

UPDATED... I call it a soother, sooss for short. Z - dummy Si - diddy Candace - bink (short for 'binky', of course!), while to her son it was a 'bikki-pooh'. Kristen, MamacitaTina - paci Kimmyk - Mammy LadyM's Q - pup Jacqueline - nuk What about you? Are there still more, different names for that thing? What do YOU call it? What do you call it, I asked! Boy, did you tell me. Ask and

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1162931281420428632006-11-07T14:12:00.000-05:002006-11-07T15:28:02.786-05:00

Soothers. Some people love them, some hate them. I'm neutral. But the thing about a soother (or pacifier, if you prefer) is that it's supposed to soothe. Seems simple enough, I know. "Why are you telling us this, Mary?" you're all asking. "I mean, we know you're smart about babies and all, but hey, we're not stupid." You all think I'm stating the embarrassingly obvious, but I'm telling you, too

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1162837472990601802006-11-06T13:09:00.000-05:002006-11-06T13:26:36.386-05:00

Malli is a chatterer. Her day is narrated in a quiet, cheerful voice. Her sentences are clear, most of them are grammatically sound, and her vocabulary is rich for a child her age. I'd say that about 80 - 90% of Malli's utterances are clear, effective communication. But sometimes... "Brx7gdhr%s outside!! We have a brx7gdhr%s outside. And it raining, and it dark, and it go all brx7dhr%s

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1162828302801059612006-11-05T10:50:00.000-05:002006-11-06T10:51:42.960-05:00

I've a new post up at PiP, for those who are interested. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1162693310711114352006-11-04T20:41:00.000-05:002006-11-06T08:20:02.750-05:00

I have never been a geek. Well, if you define geekiness as a love of learning and an addiction to books, I've always been a geek, but in my glossary of life (which is of course the one that counts on my blog, those things fall under the rubric of "browner", aka "brown-noser".) (Who else but a browner would use the word 'rubric'?) Geekiness is technological overindulgance, leaning into life

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1162621918788135712006-11-04T01:31:00.000-05:002006-11-04T01:31:58.913-05:00

Want to read a Wonderful Post? Go now. Take a kleenex. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1160075703007381072006-11-03T14:57:00.000-05:002006-11-04T00:28:51.963-05:00

The children gather round the table. Today we're fingerpainting! "Okay, guys. Here's a big bib for each of you." Malli demurs. "No bib." Ah. Malli wants to play that old game, Power Struggle. She says no, and I'm to coax her into it, because we both know she wants to paint. Only I really don't like Power Struggle. It's a truly tedious game. First we try appealing to her better nature. "You

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1162491408696412522006-11-02T13:00:00.000-05:002006-11-02T13:18:38.493-05:00

"Eh! Eh! Eh! Eh! Eh!" Anna is Dissatisfied. Something Must be Done. "Eh! Eh! Eh!" Only what exactly is the problem? It's a lovely sunny day, we're going for a walk, the sky is blue, the grass is still mostly green, and it's mild enough that she doesn't have to wear those Nasty Mittens, nor even Evil Hat!! What more could a little girl want? Oh! Her kitty has slipped. It's almost out of her

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1162387716124567462006-11-01T08:00:00.000-05:002006-11-01T08:34:16.586-05:00

IT STOPS RAINING!!!! Hallelujah. The first rain-free day in weeks! We do what any sane** person would do in these circumstances: We head to the park!! On the way there, Malli chatters away. Having read a few Malli entries, you might be justified in wondering, as her mother has done, if Malli ever says anything but 'no' while at Mary's. Indeed she does. "I can say Mahwee's name, and I can say

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1162224068140690612006-10-30T10:41:00.000-05:002006-10-30T12:29:32.416-05:00

Mia’s father stands on my porch at the end of the day, talking. He does that a lot. He’s a raging extrovert, Mia’s dad. An extrovert who believes that nothing fills the air better than the sound of his own voice. He hears very little of anything anyone says to him, doesn’t often even look at them directly, interrupts incessantly, but he loves to be with people, he loves interaction - essentially,

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1161824961672784322006-10-25T20:47:00.000-04:002006-10-26T08:32:09.580-04:00

I haven't felt much like blogging lately. Neither writing posts nor reading others'. I no intention of quitting, but this week I haven't had the usual "Oh! I have to write about that!" impulse. Instead of writing, I've been reading. Not blogs, but books. Oh, how I've been reading. This afternoon I suddenly became aware that the usual stack of books on the end table behind the couch are all

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1161699837963164012006-10-24T09:53:00.000-04:002006-10-24T10:27:55.233-04:00

I was thinking of taking the tots to the museum this morning. Only the two of them, after all. But it's raining. Still. It's rained almost every day this month. Moreover, it's three degrees (celcius - right around freezing). Rain at three degrees is cold. It stings when it hits. It makes the leaves on the sidewalk slick, slippery, semi-frozen deathtraps. This month has been just like the last

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1161634512002447682006-10-23T13:09:00.000-04:002006-10-23T16:17:01.033-04:00

It's the end of a long day at Mary's house. Timmy sports a bruise above his right eye. Anna has two: one above her left eye, and one dead centre in her forehead. They're at that tumble-prone stage: just leaving the cruising behind, and just starting with those very first steps. When they fall, they lead with their heads, poor mites, just as you would if your head weighed forty or so pounds. (

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1161526827845613492006-10-22T09:45:00.000-04:002006-10-31T11:25:05.896-05:00

I've been a fan of Lynn Johnston's comic, For Better or For Worse for twenty years. I've watched the children (Michael, Elizabeth, and April) grow up, the parents (Ellie and John) mature from young adulthood to middle age (just like me!). They now have grandchildren. (NOT like me! Because Haley is too young - and old enough to know it. Heh.) One of many things I love about Lynn Johnson's work is

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1161359997505355452006-10-20T11:52:00.000-04:002006-10-20T11:59:58.310-04:00

A lot of you think I'm some sort of paragon of patience who never loses her temper. Any of my family reading this are falling all over themselves laughing. (Stop it, you lot, I can hear you from here!) But, just so you know I do lose my temper once in a while, go check out today's Partners in Parenting. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1161280439321557692006-10-19T13:38:00.000-04:002006-10-19T13:57:56.076-04:00

"Come to the table, Malli! Lunchtime!" "No." Well, I was kind of expecting that. Prior to this, I've not made an issue of food. Malli will eat if the food is placed in an accessible spot and she is ignored. Makes me feel a bit like the trainer of a wild and skittish animal. But that's fine. Until she had gained a level of comfort with me and my home, I was letting her manage her food in

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1142427101374949262006-10-18T07:48:00.000-04:002006-10-18T12:36:48.153-04:00

...which is a horrible expression, BTW... Problem: Darcy consistently gets pee on his underwear when he uses the toilet. I can't go upstairs with every child every time they need to pee. I've taught him how to manage himself, obviously, but to no avail. What to do? - Take his underwear off before he goes upstairs! Problem: three children with runny noses require three sets of tissues. I

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1161033904300405422006-10-17T07:52:00.000-04:002006-10-17T07:36:57.620-04:00

No cute kid stories today. Today we take a stand, and make a call for action! By now most of you have probably heard of Bitacle, a website that has been plagiarizing bloggers wholesale for I have no idea how long. They take your post - no, usually they take ALL your posts - and put them up surrounded by AdSense ads. Someone is making money off MY work - and I'M not. There is something badly

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1160932872688525212006-10-16T06:19:00.000-04:002006-10-16T09:44:37.516-04:00

There's a new post up at PiP, featuring my youngest, Emma. I think you'll find it entertaining. It's part of our "True Grit" series. True Grit, you ask?? True Grit posts are tales from the parenting frontier, stories featuring non-PC, creative, unconventional, and effective parenting techniques. Probably they're techniques you wouldn't openly discuss at Mom's Group for fear of outraged gasps

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1160508612009347472006-10-14T15:06:00.000-04:002006-10-15T07:30:05.206-04:00

When I was a young married with a baby girl, our daughter's father would joke that she wouldn't be allowed to date until she was 35. Well, 30 if the prospective boyfriend was a member of the royal family. I'd laugh at his little joke, but it always annoyed me just a bit, though I wasn't sure why. (The fact that it was feeble and repeated waaaaay too often didn't help, but it was the actual

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1160673992316945272006-10-12T13:14:00.000-04:002006-10-12T13:32:47.063-04:00

Little Anna loves to open and close doors. Open, shut, open, shut, open, shut. She can stand in front of the cupboard, happily entertained for eight or nine minutes at a stretch. Open, shut, open, shut. She loves to lift and drop the flaps on the play table, lift up, set down, lift up, set down. She can while away large chunks of time opening and shutting boxes, turning light switches on and off,

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1160584100266161552006-10-11T13:17:00.000-04:002006-10-11T12:34:02.130-04:00

Nigel approaches me as I sit reading, both babies in my lap. "Whass daaa?" "You know who that is, lovie. You tell me. Who is that?" "Teemee!" "Right! And who is this?" I jounce the baby on my other knee. "Banana!" Note to self: perhaps use the nickname a little less... Nigel is reading a book to himself, a constant stream of babble/chatter filling the room. "Fuck! One fuck! Too fuck!"

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1160478787153300662006-10-10T07:10:00.000-04:002006-10-10T07:13:07.636-04:00

Mary waxes wise about choosing daycare. Check it out if you're interested. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1160398063602920742006-10-09T08:42:00.000-04:002006-10-09T08:58:00.220-04:00

We're celebrating in non-traditional style here. The husband is off to a cottage to enjoy some peace and serenity and Very Traditional Plumbing. The boy went off to his dad's girlfriend's for turkey dinner. The big girl will have Thanksgiving Dinner with her aunt in the city in which she attends university. The younger (but still big) girl and I spent a couple of hours reading on the sun-filled

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1160158696778599272006-10-06T13:41:00.000-04:002006-10-06T14:25:39.546-04:00

A bit bleary today. Not a lot of sleep last night, and poor quality what I got. Tired... Which is why the title of this post is to be hummed to the tune of 'unforgettable'... "Kettle drummer! I say, kettle drummer!" This in plummy upper crust British accent... "Do you know 'That's What You Are'?" -- Oops, sorry, am I still awake? And typing? Sorry, sorry... (Why do babies so often fight naps?

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1160073658653539672006-10-05T13:59:00.000-04:002006-10-05T15:22:14.776-04:00

Nigel is saying "please"! And "thank you"! Routinely - and with a smile! How, you may ask, did Mary achieve this, so quickly? So painlessly? So effectively? Fact is, Mary didn't. Remember our 23-minute standoff? Nigel is one very smart and even more tenacious little dude. He did not, as many - most! - children would, take that experience and decide, "Hm. Mary does not cave like I expected.

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1159984163659025192006-10-04T13:21:00.000-04:002006-10-04T13:49:23.776-04:00

Don't you just love: - the way a baby stretches when they're woken? The bent arms by the scrunched-up face, and the arch of the back that makes their little bottom so round? Particularly effective if the child is wearing a onesie*, and you can see the pudgy thighs beneath the lil round bottom. What is it about that stretch that melts you, every time? - baby giggles? - the intensity of focus a

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1148931926212724192006-10-03T18:28:00.000-04:002006-10-03T09:48:38.026-04:00

An old post from the draft files. (Anna's having a clingy day, and her yelling woke Timmy early from his nap, so he's unusually cranky...) ------------- Out with the tots today, taking a bus downtown. As you enter the bus, each side has three seats in a bench arrangement, facing the centre aisle. Behind these sets of three are pairs of seats, facing the front of the bus. I set myself in the

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1159798110813645092006-10-01T09:21:00.000-04:002006-10-02T10:30:39.353-04:00

I did a little searching to see if there was a Canadian equivalent of the "Banned Books" list. (In fact, that name is a bit misleading: the books were on the list because they were challenged; many (some? most? all?) of those books may not ever have been actually banned.) The Canadian list I found was much more informative: not only the titles and authors were cited, but the reason for the

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1159661584130869962006-09-30T19:52:00.000-04:002006-09-30T20:16:40.010-04:00

Did you know there's a "Banned Books Week"? I only heard of it today, at the very end of the week, when I checked out Solo Mom's blog from whom I'm now stealing just about her entire post, as follows: My favourite Stephen King quotation is about banned books. His advice is that if someone tells you can't read something, run, don't walk, to your local library and find out for yourself what all

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1159535138148302842006-09-29T09:01:00.000-04:002006-09-29T09:12:59.960-04:00

Today: Nigel said "please". And "thank you". With a smile. After two hours spent screaming except when she was in my arms, Anna slept FOR TWO HOURS and woke happy and didn't need to be in my arms for a whole, entire HOUR! That's three straight hours of peace. :-) Malli came in snuffling but quiet and didn't scream once the entire afternoon and moreover chattered happily to me while

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1159453430181538262006-09-28T06:02:00.000-04:002006-09-28T10:30:05.790-04:00

"You may be angry but you may not scream." "AAAAAAAAHHHHH!"* "Malli. No. Screaming." "AAAAAAAAHHHHH!" "Huh,huh,huh,WWWWAAAAAAA!" "Malli. Anna needs me. If you are going to keep screaming, you can sit here until you're finished." "AAAAaaaHHhh!" "Heh-uh,heh-uh,heh-uh, wwwwaaaaaa...." "What's up Anna? Hey, sweet baby?" (Remember the round, happy baby? Well, she's still round...) "AAAAAaaaahhh."

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158170404419139182006-09-26T06:40:00.000-04:002006-09-26T08:18:24.146-04:00

"Wuuu-wuuh! Wuh, wuh gaddagadaba. Mah-wee! Mah-wee, wuh, gadda tuck! Tuck, tuck, tuck wane! Wuh, man, man-ha, man-ee. Tuck, wah stikya ai." Nigel is on the very cusp of fluent speech. He has quite a few words, in fact. Individually or in pairs, his words are toddler-clear and effective. In larger groups, they're a little more opaque. Something has captured Nigel's attention out the front window

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158962282315344452006-09-25T05:39:00.000-04:002006-09-25T13:46:41.060-04:00

Malli lies on the living room floor, wailing. "Mine! Mine! My Elmo!" "Elmo's in the garbage, honey." "My Elmo! Malli take Elmo home!" "Oh, lovie. Elmo's all dirty now. You don't want to take that yukky thing home, do you?" Stupid question. "Elmo! Malli take Elmo hoooome!" I guess I'd been a little hasty when I threw the thing out. I suppose there's no harm in it. I fish it out, dust it off

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158191104550880292006-09-24T08:43:00.000-04:002006-09-24T18:31:48.176-04:00

This one taken from Allison. (On whose blog I don't think I've ever commented - surpise, Alli!) 1. What time did you get up this morning? I woke up at 6:20, got out of bed at quarter to seven. (Yes, on a Sunday. I don't sleep in often. But in this case, there was a teenager heading to work for 7 - on foot - and it was pouring rain. I decided to haul myself out of bed and give the girl a ride. I

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158931330493524762006-09-22T06:41:00.000-04:002006-09-22T09:26:58.743-04:00

Malli was here again yesterday, her third day with me. She was here a couple of days last week, and clearly thought she'd done her bit at entering the wider world. She most certainly didn't expect to have to do it again! I could hear her expressing her... misgivings from half a block away. Her face was blotchy red, her eyes swollen, when she arrived. Mum's face was haggard. Malli's a bright

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158858403782986242006-09-21T13:01:00.000-04:002006-09-21T13:06:44.493-04:00

...she said. Timmy greets me in his usual enthusiastic fashion, bouncing and flapping in his mother's arms. "Did he have his usual naps yesterday?" There are largish bags under her eyes. "No, in fact he didn't." "I wondered, because last night? Last night he was wired! Just wired! It took him forever to get to sleep - I had to try three separate times to get him down. Unless it's teeth? You

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158772293702320922006-09-20T12:59:00.000-04:002006-09-20T13:15:10.116-04:00

A lot a bunch some one of you, asked if I could post the link to the show. I don't think we're the, ah, most polished interviewees in the world, but it's not a bad start! (The commercial host of the show is KidsDadsMoms.com, an organization whose mandate is to link children with the best toys and resources for their growth and development.) You know, if I'm going to branch out into the

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158760620204504792006-09-20T09:42:00.000-04:002006-09-20T10:04:27.520-04:00

The third week of September is drawing to a close, and I'm still adjusting. Six weeks ago, I had three three-year-old boys in my home every day, plus a couple younger tots. Now I have an almost-two and a one-year-old. That's it. In another week I'll start another one-year old. Heck, this is practically NOT WORKING!! And as a result of these super-light, super-easy days, my house is now SPOTLESS!

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158683697761296382006-09-19T12:29:00.000-04:002006-09-19T12:34:58.076-04:00

(Read this first, for context, then come back. I'll wait... Okay, done now? Good. You may proceed.) "Baww! Baww! Baww! Baww! Baww!" "I can't play with you right now, hon. I'm changing Timmy's diaper, and then I'll have to make lunch." "Baww! Baww! Baww! Baww! Baww!" "Oh, all right Nigel. Just take your ball and go play, please." "Gank oo." ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158340555702460962006-09-18T13:13:00.000-04:002006-09-18T16:43:48.890-04:00

Seems I need to invest in larger pieces of paper. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158535187852472252006-09-17T19:16:00.000-04:002006-09-17T19:19:48.053-04:00

Okay, so you all know I've been in the Kidbiz for a couple of decades. While I wouldn't call myself jaded, it does perhaps take just a little more than standard issue sweetness to provoke an "Awww" reaction from me. This post got that reaction. All eight times I listened to it. Plus the two more times when I got my kids to listen. (My 17-year-old son broke up smiling all over at exactly the same

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158367083641441622006-09-17T15:29:00.000-04:002006-09-17T15:42:42.166-04:00

Guess who's going to be On the Air next week? Any of you who are interested, check out World Talk Radio on Tuesday, September 19 at 4:00 Eastern Time. Someone out there stumbled over Partners in Parenting, and invited Laura and me to chat. How's about that? Or maybe I don't want you listening in at all. My first step to public acclaim or my most recent opportunity to publicly humiliate myself?

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158341975225446252006-09-16T06:38:00.000-04:002006-09-16T07:12:38.806-04:00

How did she get to be so wise, at such a young age? She knows how to make her momma smile. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158323323563576862006-09-15T07:00:00.000-04:002006-09-15T08:29:14.626-04:00

So you all now know how I decided to take it to the wall with Nigel. How he was NOT getting down from the high chair before he said 'please'. How, at time of writing, we'd been head-to-head for 23 minutes and counting. You know all that. You marvelled at my persistence. Persistence which has been honed through years of such interactions, persistence which has been forged on the anvil of

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158244341330383592006-09-14T07:09:00.000-04:002006-09-14T10:32:44.053-04:00

Nigel is developing into a chatty little dude. He has a fair number of words, which are, typical for his age, coming out in one- and two-word declaratives. "Telegraphing", it's called, because minimum words are used to convey maximum information. "Kitty! Ball!" "Yes, the kitty is playing with the ball, isn't he?" Nigel has all kinds of words, and we hear them a lot. All except 'please' and '

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12042679.post-1158148505160035282006-09-13T07:50:00.000-04:002006-09-13T07:56:42.513-04:00

My sweetie and I jostle in the kitchen. A little coffee slooshes. A drop lands on my sock. "Good thing my socks are black," I note. "Yeah," he says, ever the optimist. "If that's the worst liquid you get on you today, you'll be doing well." ~~~~~~~~~~~~ © 2006, Mary P

Mary P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/12332559441053092058noreply@blogger.com9