Simon: month 27

Only a few days late this month, but to my credit I actually wrote down some things ahead of time that I wanted to remember to mention since some exciting things have happened this month. Namely using 3 out of 4 successful potty learning moments AND blowing your nose for the first time. Since I feel like I'm in some sort of nose and bum wiping purgatory, these are both very exciting developments.


Your letter recognition is really impressive for someone just over two years old (that we have an obnoxiously loud and annoying toy to thank for most of it is besides the point). At the grocery store this last week, you were sitting in the cart making a lot of noise as usual, when I started to pay attention to what you were saying. It went something like this, "M-I-N-I-W-H-E-A-T-S! R-I-C-E-K-R-I-S-P-I-E-S!". You were reading out all the letters on the cereal boxes!


You also learned a new song recently. "Old MacDonald's Farm" has been a favorite for some time now, so it really should come as no surprise to see how much you enjoy "The Wheels on the Bus". However your version is slightly different... it goes like this:

The wheels on the bus go round and round,
Round and round, round and round.
The wheels on the bus go round and round,
All through the town.

The cow on the bus goes moo, moo, moo,
moo, moo, moo, moo, moo, moo
The cow on the bus goes moo, moo, moo,
All through the town.

The duck on the bus goes quack, quack, quack,
quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack,
The duck on the bus goes quack, quack, quack,
All through the town.

And so on...

A bit of a hybrid of the two songs, and thankfully it's entertaining enough to keep you awake in the car long enough to get home and get some lunch into you before you fall asleep.

You're a very helpful little guy as I've mentioned before. Your newest "chore" is that you've taken it upon yourself to be the one to empty the coffee grinds out of daddy's coffee maker. Since we use a reusable filter, this isn't a simple (or CLEAN!) matter of tossing the filter and grinds into the garbage. Unfortunately you tend to do your best work when I'm asleep... I mean otherwise occupied. I usually don't find out til you come to me covered in coffee grinds to tell me you made a "duper big mess".

Here you are after I caught you having pushed a chair over to the counter to "help" clean out an almost empty jar of jam.



You're normally very good about not putting food in your mouth that hasn't been approved by me or dad. Because of your allergies, there are essentially two food groups in your world: those that are Yummy Tummy and those that are Owie Tummy. Liam can be sitting across the table from you eating a bowl of what-you-know-to-be-very-delicious ice cream, you'll ask for some, we'll tell you no because it's owie tummy and you just accept it. What might elicit a nuclear meltdown from other kids brings forth only a little "awww" from you before you go back to eating your bowl of frozen fruit. Hopefully this will continue as long as your allergies do.

However, this thoughtfulness and levelheadedness seem to end in the kitchen. Abruptly. This morning I was upstairs feeding Andrew and heard you, not just scream (which I'm so used to, I hardly hear it anymore), but S.C.R.E.A.M. I ran downstairs to find you like this:
I still have no idea how you, a) got like this, and b) managed to stay like this and not tip the chair over backwards. It was a kiddie chair so the fall wouldn't likely have hurt you, but the relief on your face when I grabbed you was PRICELESS. I only wish I'd had the camera in hand to make you pose for pictures in that terrified state... cause I would have.

I love you.

~ mum

.

books, books, books!

Between dropping Liam off at school yesterday and my final midwife appointment, Simon, Andrew and I headed to one of my favorite places to kill an hour... Value Village. I've found some great kitchen accessories and clothes there in the past, but yesterday was the first time I took the time to carefully go through the book shelves.

OH. MY.

Clearly most Quebecois don't buy used english books at Value Village! We made quite the haul. Many are modern kids' classics and almost all are in brand new condition. The boys' favorite so far is The Gruffalo, a book that Liam had had read to him at Xavier's. (Susie, I think Toby would really like this one... have you heard of it?)

Here are the other books we found. We're keeping some, but about half are destined for the bookshelves of a certain yet-to-be-born niece whose arrival we are anxiously awaiting... Wanna guess which ones, Sara??

The Gruffalo by Julia Donaldson
Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney
Brave Binou by Dominique Jolin
The Going to Bed Book by Sandra Boynton
Snoozers by Sandra Boynton
Oups! by David Shannon
The Swiss Family Robinson by Johann Wyse
One fish two fish red fish blue fish by Dr Seuss
The Cat in the Hat by Dr Seuss
Dinosaur's Binkit by Sandra Boynton
Love You Forever by Robert Munsch
Purple, Green and Yellow by Robert Munsch
The Paper Bag Princess by Robert Munsch
The Dark by Robert Munsch
The Girl Who Hated Books by Manjusha Pawagi
Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak
The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle
Up! by Kristine O'Connell George
If Kisses Were Colors by Janet Lawler

I figure that's about $200 worth of books all for the low price of $15.84! So for less than the price of "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" -a lovely, near pristine hardcover version- we got 19 free books! I. LOVE. THRIFT. STORES.

who do I call now?

Peter and I are in the process of priming and painting the guestroom. This has meant repairing some small holes in the walls. I got them mudded and was ready to sand when I realized I wasn't sure if I was using the right grit of sandpaper. Normally, I would pick up the phone and call my dad. Of course there are other people who can answer questions like that (ever heard of the internet? Wikipedia? Holmes on Holmes?), but my dad was always there. He worked from home. He was never too busy to stop what he was doing to chat or answer any questions I had or listen to Liam ramble on about Star Wars and lego.

He was my go to person for questions related to home improvement, computers, letter/proposal editing, bbq-ing, chili-cooking, and a number of other things. It helped that he was always easy to get a hold of... and always had an opinion.

(sigh)

I miss you, dad.

a tribute to my dad

I finally got around to redoing the video from my dad's service. I'm still not 100% happy with it... the date at the beginning isn't readable and the second song leaves something to be desired. Besides the fact that Heather and Lynette stopped just short of laughing AT THEIR FATHER'S FUNERAL, it's a bit too country for me. But with the deadline I had to finish this, and the fact that I was up past 2am the night before his service to get this done, my options were few. Even though I've had over two months to think about it, I haven't found anything that fits the specific amount of time I have without cutting out at an awkward spot.

So if you know of a song choice that expressed a father's love for his daughters and can be condensed into 1:44:33, let me know. Also, if you know of a site that can host this video in larger-than-thumbnail size (other than YouTube cause it takes issue with me using copywrited songs... pfffft) pass it on.

a critic and a thug

I make pancakes for the boys several times each week. Because of Simon's allergies, I can't use wheat flour so it's generally some mix of barley, buckwheat, sorghum, spelt, tapioca and potato flours. Always an adventure!

This last batch was received with the following remarks from my kids:

Liam - "These are SOME. PANCAKES." He ate three plate-sized ones.


Simon - A very gangster "Mo' Mama". Okay, it was more of a polite "Mo' pease mummy" (more please mummy), but the first way makes for a better story.

"...but I have overcome the world"

I read a blog post yesterday that was exactly what I needed to read. Here's what really struck me,

...I welled up with tears of helplessness and doubt.

The doubt was never about whether God was powerful or in control. It was always about whether He was good. So today, when I heard from my sister [...]I cried helplessly again about His goodness; and I wondered where it could possibly be.

But this is what I am learning. I am learning that our Heavenly Father protects us from the dangers that are real. He worries over the destruction of our souls, the separation from Him, the eternal dangers that so many of us ignore like naive little children.

But He does not protect us from the living of the bad dreams and from feeling we are lost. He whispers to us through our pain that there is a life beyond the present suffering. He sits silently with us in our anguish--in the nightmares so real and heavy and terrifying, the ones that we cannot escape or blink away. He reminds us that the seemingly endless grief is but a moment that will fade in the vast expanse of the Life to come.

He promises, There is Goodness. There is More. But it is not often in this suffering world that we find it.

I think that maybe this is really where my struggles lay... in seeing and believing in the goodness of God.

So when I said the other day that the only options were that God didn't exist, or that He did exist but didn't care to help and save, I was wrong. The other option is this: He exists and cares enough to save us from that which we really need saving from. From self-destruction and hopelessness and sin.

THAT is His promise.

Through all of the suffering and hardships and disappointments that my family has endured, my dad was firm in his in faith in the sovereignty of God. It's somewhat ironic to me that when I miss my dad the most -and when I question and doubt God the most- is when I'm always brought back to my dad's words prior to his first brain surgery a year ago... that our trials and problems don't diminish the promises of God or change who He is. The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. His mercies never come to an end.

I'm going to end this post with a copy of a poem that my dad wrote, and that was printed on the back of the program at his funeral service:

Rising from bended knee, my Lord grasped my shoulders and, looking deep into my eyes, declared that the years of despair were over. Turning me, in order to look beyond the crowd, I saw...

...I saw my mission field. And I knew that the arm still on my shoulder would never be removed. It was time to work.

"But I have been so weak." I protested. "I am unable."

Yet even as I spoke this protest, I knew that my weakness was swallowed up in His perfect strength.

"But I have been unfaithful in the small things", I continued in my fear. "I am unworthy to be given more."

It was then that a deep sense of eternal Truths converged in my soul, and faith became defined, not in terms of an exit door from troubles, but as a mirror that reflects only two images: me- small, weak, and afraid; and the all-consuming presence of God, my refuge. No problem or surroundings can find its way to the surface of the mirror - all it reflects is me and God!

Faithfulness is not dependent upon how I deal with my circumstances, but on seeing only God.

~ Bill Russell, written 7/29/93

A bit of a departure from yesterday's post, eh?

Welcome to my world.

in this world you will have sorrow

This post has been building in me for a few weeks now. Usually I think about it while I'm driving which isn't really condusive to getting my thoughts down "on paper".

I'm still struggling with many aspects of my dad's death. I hardly even know where to start! I think that death in general makes people question their own life and faith and beliefs, even moreso when it's an unexpected death. My dad's death is really making me re-evaluate my faith, even more than after Nathaniel's death when my emotions were just way too raw to do anything other than get through the day.

I really don't think this is a bad thing. Introspection is good. I'm hoping that by putting some of it down and getting it out it will speed up the process. We'll see.

I find myself really struggling with doubt lately. I'm not sure if it's doubt in the existance of God, or doubt in His love (for me in particular) or perhaps a combination. Either God doesn't exist, or He does BUT DIDN'T DO ANYTHING. See, if God exists and is omnipotent, then He's the only one who could've healed my dad (or at least let them discover what was going on soon enough that I could be there to say goodbye). And I do -I think- believe that God exists.

So why didn't He heal dad?

Was it because of a lack of faith? My dad believed right til his very last few hours that he would be fine. Even once he accepted what was to come, he was steadfast in his belief that God continued to be true to His promises, and that He had not and would not abandon him. My dad was faithful til the end.

Was it us, his family and friends, who lacked faith? Didn't we pray often enough or hard enough? I know that we certainly didn't pray that his small intestine wouldn't die and poison him! How could we when we didn't know that was going on? No one knew. So how can we be held accountable for those omissions in prayer??

Was there some lesson we needed to learn out of his death? If so, I'm really tired of learning lessons through suffering. I think I've suffered enough... maybe I'm just really thick skulled.

I know that my dad believed (and was even working on a book about) how there is nothing that we can add or subtract from God. He is 100% perfect and able to do all and everything that needs to be done. But here's where I start to stumble.

The Bible says not to worry about tomorrow, that God will provide and care for us, that God loves us, that He is our loving Heavenly Father who wants to bless us, etc, etc. Now that I'm a parent, I know what it is to love your child. I know what it's like to sit helplessly by and NOT BE ABLE to take away your child's hurt. I know that in those instances, I'd do ANYTHING IN MY POWER to comfort and care for them.

Well if God exists, then there's nothing that's NOT in His power to do! So why doesn't HE DO IT??

Clearly, God can not keep every Christian from dying or keep anything bad from happening to any of them. I know that the Bible also says that in this world WE WILL have sorrow. It's not even so much the FACT of my dad's death that troubles me, it's so many of the details. From all the surgeries and daily struggles of this past year, to his last few months being mostly out of it in the hospital not even able to make the most of that time with his family and his grandsons, to the end coming so quickly -in a matter of hours!- that I wasn't able to be with him.

I'm trying not to let this be all about me, but I really can't get passed this bit. Why couldn't they have found out what was going on sooner? Even the day before?? In that time I could've been on a plane and by his side. Even if the final outcome and all the other timing had been exactly the same... to be with him would've made all the difference for me.

This one detail, this one thing, should've been SO EASY for God to arrange... if God exists.

I feel like I'm talking myself in circles. Likely this is why it's taken me this long to try to write it all down. I don't feel like I'm making any sense.

I guess I'm just hurting still.

I miss my dad.

So when I hear people talk about others who have been healed or recovered from life-threathening illnesses, or even just people praising God for his goodness, if find myself either rolling my eyes or fighting back tears.

And I'm not really sure where to go from here.

I do know I'll get passed it. I'll survive. I've done it before.

I'm pretty sure that this post lack flow and a clear direction, but I'm not going to bother editting it. Sorry internets.

move over Marlon Brando

Today -like every day- when I dropped Liam off at school, there was a group of kids waiting to greet him at the entrance to the school yard.

Today was different though.

In addition to the normal hugs and hellos, two boys draped their arms over his shoulders WHILE ANOTHER TOOK HIS BAG FOR HIM. Two or three girls followed behind. After a few steps, he sat down on one of the school sleds and the boys immediately jumped to pull him and one of the girls around the yard.

I'll worry if they start to kiss him on the cheek and call him "the Don" (I suppose it would be "le Don" in french) or if he asks where he could find a severed horses head...

Andrew: month 1

There's not too much to say about you yet, Andrew. You are BY FAR our easiest baby! You hardly cry and even then it's for a reason - non of this mystery crying that leaves your poor parents feeling helpless and inadequate. You nurse like a champ, rarely spitting up. You don't sleep through the night yet (and I don't expect you too), but normally give me a 4-5 hour stretch that would be uninterrupted if not for one of your brothers often disturbing me. You love to be wrapped up or held close in one of my other carriers, which makes life much simplier (ie, makes it possible to check up on/chase/clean up after Simon).


You've been outside on a few occassions now, but usually stay buried inside my coat. But one day last week, you ventured out for a few minutes (even though it was pretty cold that day!). It didn't last long though, before you snuggled back in where it was warm... like a good little groundhog.


You've even started smiling last week, much to the delight of all of us but especially Liam. He loves to see you smile and spends most of your time together trying to coax some grins out of you.

This picture is from yesterday and is one of my favorites so far. This is the bluest your eyes have looked (I did do some postprocessing, but didn't change the color). It's still up in the air if they'll stay blue or end up brown or even green.

And last but not least, a short video of the excitement you caused last night. I won't say much more so as not to give away the surprise for everyone reading!

You are very loved little porkchop.

Love, Mum

Liam: month 68

Liam, I really wish I’d been more on top of these letters – both December and January. So much happened. So much changed. The insights that we got into your character and the person you’re becoming were priceless. I’m afraid that there are things I wanted to say to you that have already been forgotten.

Your letter for December (which would have been my second effort) was due the day after your grandpa died. Since it was so late at night when everything happened, we decided not to wake you up, knowing that you’d be in no shape to talk to grandpa or to really understand what was going on. We also decided to wait to tell you until that night when your dad got home from work. I didn’t want to tell you and then drop you off at school. There just wouldn’t have been time for you to digest the news.

So that evening, we called you into the bedroom where I’d been taking a nap. We told you that something happened the night before and that grandpa had gotten very sick and died. You put your head down on the pillow next to me and cried. And cried. Your dad and I were actually a bit surprised by how intense your emotion was. All that night and the next day, you cried on and off (like I wanted to, but couldn’t).

When we arrived in Regina you were very excited to see your cousins, but we took you to the funeral home first to view grandpa’s body. I could tell you were anxious and nervous by how wound up you were. When it came time to see grandpa, you didn’t really understand why he was “in a box” or why he didn’t have his own pillow. He also looked different, but not nearly enough for you to not recognize him.

So you got to say goodbye.

Even though you had to chance to see grandpa and say your goodbyes, almost nightly you mention the fact that you didn’t get to talk to him before he died. Your dad and I thought we were making the right decision in not waking you, but you’ve certainly made me question that choice. I worry that someday you’ll find yourself lying in a therapists chair and discover that all of your issues can be traced back to not being able to say goodbye to your grandpa the night he died!

But at the same time, I can’t imagine how hard it would’ve been for him to say goodbye to you. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to know you were dying and have to say goodbye to everyone you love, especially to your little grandson.

He loved you so much, Liam. You were his special little guy. And I won’t let you forget.

In the last two months, you’ve asked us –and often stumped us- with questions about life and death and heaven and God. It’s neat and amazing (and a little scary) to see how your young mind works. I’ve also marveled at how big your young heart is. Your grief is pure and so innocent, but so real and deep. It breaks my heart to see you hurt. Although your dad and I often wonder if you talk about grandpa almost every night because that’s when you’re calm enough and when you have our undivided attention… or if it’s just a ploy to extend your bedtime. Likely it’s a combination of both.

There's so much that I want to say to and about you, Liam. You really are such a neat kid. People love you everywhere you go. People at church have nothing but wonderful things to say about you. Kids at school rush to your side when you show up. Simon wants to BE you! You're a great brother and a loving son. You dote on Andrew and have gone from merely tolerating Simon's invasive methods of play to actually playing with him much of the time now. It's so fun to watch you to (when you're playing nicely). You've begun to take on more responsibility in our family and so far have really thrown yourself into it. (more on all that next month since this is already far too long)

So to end I'll leave you with this picture I took this afternoon... pretty typical of where you'd be happy to spend the majority of your waking hours if we'd let you.

Also, here's a little slideshow of why there are more pictures of Simon on this blog than there are of you. It's hard to get a picture of you without you pulling a crazy face, grabbing a prop or striking a pose (often complete with jazz hands).

Crazy kid.

love, Mum

monthly letters? what monthly letters??

So I kind of dropped the ball on this one, eh. But I have plenty of very good excuses... ready? After I started this in November, I wanted to wait til after Simon's birthday party to do a proper post for his 24th month. His actual birthday was on a Tuesday and his party was that Saturday. Well, if you'll remember, the day after his party my dad died. With that, preparing for the holidays, Christmas with family, HAVING A BABY, etc, I just didn't get to these letters. It was even one of my new year's resolutions! Poor show, Amy. (hangs head in shame).

So even though I'm horribly late, I'll start with Simon since his 26th month was Jan 25th.


Simon, you are one bright, energetic, funny and challenging little boy. Your dad and I are daily frustrated and amazed by you... often at the same time. It's sometimes difficult to discipline you with a straight face because you are such a comical, cartoonish little person. There are so many things to love about you, so I'll list a few:

I love the way you talk. Some of my favorites are: "C'mere, mummy/daddy! I dow you dum-ping!", "Yooka me, Daddy! I durt-ding!" (a game that you play with Liam that involves the two of your running from one side of our kitchen through into the living room and crashing into the couch... urrrrch!), "Com'a pay-oom, mummy! Pay banodaurs!" (Come to the playroom! Play dinosaurs!). In all honesty, I really should be writing everything that you say in capital letters with multiple exclamation marks, but I thought it would look obnoxious... hmmm, on second thought...

I love how enamored you are with Andrew and how you say his name like the word 'bamboo', as in "Baby Bambew, Bambew!" and "Bambew key-yoot!" (cute). Actually, you normally refer to him as THE baby Bambew, which always reminds me of The Big Lebowski.

I love how much you love Liam. One of your favorite times of the day is waiting for the school bus to arrive and drop Liam off. I'm not sure that even I would get as big a welcome! He is the whole world to you and it's so much fun to see you to grow up together.


I especially love how, even given your high level of energy and almost constant motion, you'll still indulge your dad and I once in a while and sit quietly and cuddle. Today you even let me wrap you on my back (since you refused to nap) for the first time since I had to stop carrying you last May when I was first pregnant with Andrew. It was so nice to have you snuggled back there... for all of 20 minutes til you realized that Liam was awake and downstairs playing...


I love how after having the Leap Frog Fridge Phonics Letter Set for all of a day, you were singing the ABC song almost without error and now, less than two weeks later, you're pointing out letters EVERYWHERE. Your favorites are the blue 'M' and the green 'W' (which you pronounce "duh-le-boo").

I, if not love, at least get a kick out of how you relate to other little kids... two in particular, Jean-Samuel (the pastor's son) and Melo (Melody, Liam's friend's little sister). There's often a stand off a la Stewie Griffin from Family Guy (I show we never watch, but I've seen small snippets of on occasion). Stewie is described as The Family Guy's "diabolical baby genius". This is fairly fitting for you as I often wonder what you're thinking/plotting. Stewie also seems to have a palpable disdain for other toddlers. Simon, you and Jean-Sam in particular seem to be at odds, often shouting at each other -you in english and him in french- about nothing and everything all at once. It's been like this since our first time at that church.

I love how YOU'RE FINALLY EATING SOUP! Seriously! After over two years, you will finally eat soup and you love it. However, this is no ordinary soup from a can. It's roasted red pepper and garlic soup with coconut milk and homemade crusty spelt bread to dip in it. Perhaps you just have a more refined palate than we were giving you credit for??

It's never dull being your mom, Simon. I'd love to say that your energy is always infectious, but to be honest, it's often draining. There are days that you get into so many things and make so many messes that I just have to laugh. Your dad might complain on occasion about my housekeeping skills, but I personally think that God knew what He was doing when He made me your mom. If I required the house be spotless, I'd have lost my mind at least a year ago! You and I were made for each other! I love you.