Is Labeling ever okay?

My six-year-old recently came home sporting a nicely designed label on his shirt. At first glance I thought that my kid had achieved some type of next level recognition in his class at the institute of higher learning…Grade One (to be exact).  With some squinting on my part (40-year-old something eyes) I was expecting to see the usual primary school accolades that regularly show up on these youngster’s homework. You know the ones:

“…see the usual primary school accolades … You know the ones…”

“Great Job!”

“Well Done!”

“Awesome!”

“Fantastic!”

“You ROCK!”

Instead …the label read “Please watch me…I bumped my head today!”…WHAT????

WOW!

Instead …the label read “Please watch me…I bumped my head today!”…WHAT????

I guess calls home from the school can be really reduced with the new label system. I might have been able to accept:

“Need special care have a small boo-boo”

“Be nice to me…I had a bad day”

“I fell and scraped my knee…I might need some TLC”

“The school nurse checked me and I am fine but could use extra TLC”

But “watch me closely…I bumped my head”? Seriously….what are these people (the folks at the school) thinking??? The only saving grace about this label was that it was adhered on the child’s shirt as opposed to his forehead.(!!) I am wondering if the rest of the first aid container at school might include “Was unconscious earlier please watch me overnight” or “Unresponsive at school please return to sender” only to be out done with “Intellectually unresponsive please investigate!”

Then again that opens up an entire list of labels a parent might like to have for the teacher.

“Watch me my head is very sore…too much homework”

“If I can’t understand what you teach in school hours don’t think my parents can teach me in non-school hours.”

“Was dropped on my head…well…the rest is history!”

“My family calls me …ANIMAL!”

“Today is a bad day… someone kidnapped my imaginary friend”

“Be careful…I am ALMOST toilet-trained!”

Better yet might be the labels one could (perhaps should?) arm a high school teacher with:

“This kid need not come to school…ever again.”

“Return to sender…only resend once mouth is sealed with duct tape”

“If this is what your family has to offer the world for the future…hope you have a backup plan!”

This label thing could likely save all of us time and therefore money…oh the possibilities!

I as a parent might choose to wear (sometimes more than occasionally)

“I am currently having an out-of-body experience…stay tuned …take a number…it could take a while!”

“I did hear you…but no…I still DON’T care.”

“Possessed…again…by Aliens”

“Whatever!! Duh!…(unless you are asking for the car)…then NO!”

“FYI…take cover I am in a VERY BAD MOOD!”

I guess when all is said and done, the label “Please watch me…I bumped my head today!” is definitely not anywhere near as scary as “Toe-tag required…please call the coroner.” Though it still leaves me wondering …are all students given the “bumped my head” label or are these labels only reserved for the children whose scholastic performance leaves something to be desired while the children perceived as having superior brilliance get a REAL call home (oh and then perhaps a label)??

A quick call to my local school regaling the receptionist with my take on the whole thing and she is horrified… “Oh I guess we FORGOT to call you and JUST gave him the label INSTEAD of calling. He is fine but really wanted a label. He did bump his head though earlier in the day but seemed okay.”  (???)

I think I will be in my corner designing labels we can all wear (and hand out) for everyday use. Can you imagine what one could “get away with” saying at work with just wearing a label??? Just saying….

Labeled “The Garden Goat”

Labeled
“The Garden Goat”

A Gift of Prayers

I had a great post all figured out mentioning the twelve days of Christmas decorated with some of the more stressful (and funny) attributes of family life as a light piece of entertainment. Then December 14^th 2012 happened. Nothing seemed funny anymore. More importantly I no longer felt like being my sarcastic (and reportedly entertaining) self.

..little tiny innocent children’s lives, taken by a brutal outburst of gunfire in the hands of a very sick individual.

I was online on Friday and suddenly everywhere there was news of what could not be real…little tiny innocent children’s lives, taken by a brutal outburst of gunfire in the hands of a very sick individual. Were these children somewhere dangerous when this happened? No, they were where they were supposed to be. These little ones were in their classrooms, the gym, hallways (and some were practicing their Christmas celebrations) of their primary school in the small, quiet town of Newtown, Connecticut.

Prior to the news announcement, the days leading up to this event (as we all know) were all about rushing and bustling looking everywhere for that perfect gift for each person on our Christmas list. Suddenly Christmas no longer matters. Presents, bought and wrapped for tiny kids still sit under trees in Connecticut and they will never be opened. There are so many questions and almost no answers.

I was asked on Saturday by my hairdresser if I had put any thought into the rampant idea circulating the globe that the world as we now know it could possibly end December 21^st, 2012. My answer was that if the presence of extreme evil was to herald the coming of the end of the world …then this had already happened on Friday morning.

My heart goes out to all the parents of those little angels that have gone on to Heaven.

I am sure that I am not alone as parents everywhere acknowledge their perfect gift is already present in their lives, those of us lucky enough to have our children still here on earth. My heart goes out to all the parents of those little angels that have gone on to Heaven as well as the other victims of this heinous crime. I cannot imagine how those parents must feel. Their lives and families changed irrevocably forever.

Our gift this Christmas is prayers for all the victim’s families as they try to carry on in their lives unable to make sense out of this horrific event. Some of the victims were adults and from all accounts much proof that angels do walk among us …some as Grade One teachers.

On Facebook I came across this cartoon …it seemed to say it all.

On Facebook I came across this cartoon …it seemed to say it all.

If there is one thing that is so important, it is to love whom you have in your life RIGHT NOW. Tomorrow is not promised. Hug and kiss your children. Ensure that they know how much they are truly loved.  Those of us who have our children here on earth already know that we have the greatest Christmas gift of all.

All love & prayers,

The Garden Goat xoxox

Christmas List

At this time of year all of us are searching for the perfect gift and usually working from lists from family relatives and friends (okay not lists per say from friends…but you know “hints”).

After reading the 8-year-old’s list I am not even sure I should share it. (!!) It was entitled “crismis list” and read:

“I want a Nerf shotgun, I want a Nerf Sniper, and a Nerf tome gun and a BB gun with lots of ammo and I want a Nerf hand gun and a Nerf bulletproof vest and a Nerf Bazooka and a Nerf grappling hook and a Nerf gun that has 199 bullets and a Nerf towing package.” (Anyone who has a family this size totally understands the bullet-proof vest.)  A little worried about the towing package as this kid has wanted to be in the police force forever. He used to stuff his little brother into a pillow case and haul him around the house saying “I caught the bad guy!” Before any of you out there think a call to child protection is in order, the two little boys spend hours together (have for years) one as the bad guy and one as the policemen.

After reading the 8-year-old’s list I am not even sure I should share it. (!!) It was entitled “crismis list” and read:

Then there is another list that asks for “a guitar, a new karaoke machine, “the Step Master” and a small pink fridge”-Fun! (This child is only ten…what does you suppose she needs the fridge for? (Hoping it is for snacks the other kids can’t access… and that it is NOT for other family member’s body parts!)

Another kids list reads “a cage” …hmm given the two dogs are never locked up makes me wonder who he is wanting to house or worse yet what he is hoping to catch!

One’s Christmas list reveals a lot about the writer.

The baby’s list was funny. Literally everything in the Toys R US flyer was circled…including the nerf guns.

One’s Christmas list reveals a lot about the writer. First of all do you make a Christmas list? If you do, are you honest about what you put on it or do you gear your requests to your audience? Like when your ten-year old wants to know what you want for Christmas. You say Breakfast in bed knowing that it is something he can do, won’t cost him money and he will feel special. You can forgive the crumbs in the sheets and spilt coffee up the stairs for another day per year beyond Mother’s Day!)

When my children were little, it was all about what the children had on their lists (even if the list was in their head or only whispered in the ear of the local mall’s Santa Claus). As the children grew older it became more about them wanting to do something for mom and dad. A great, cheap option would have been to just nicely, (for the rest of the year) agree to whatever we asked them to do…but no, THAT would have been TOO easy.

I have never made a Christmas list in my life. I have had plenty of friends that swore by them stating that they were spared hundreds of terrible gifts over the course of their marriages. I always thought if my husband really knows me I will end up with such and such. Nah…years later I understand the wisdom of the Christmas list as it matters not how cool it looks, how many other people you know want the item…what matters most is that the one receiving the gift is thrilled. This is something that often blows the mind of average North American husband. A paperclip can be the perfect gift (if that’s what I truly wanted or delighted in) as opposed to receiving the latest trend (always more expensive and usually not ever what I want).

I have never made a Christmas list in my life.

On that note should my kids read this. All I want for Christmas is:

• Good kids

When I ask for something to be done I do not have to suit up into armour and conduct battle to elicit a favourable response. My wish is that my request is simply met with the beautiful words…”yes …Mom”

Oh and maybe some chocolate. (You know for the kids that have part-time jobs.) Much prefer the chocolate to the socks and assortment of stuff the clerk “thought” their mom might “like”! (Trust me you can have TOO many socks with cows on them that go with nothing you own!)

My list for the Almighty:

• Help my husband to get healed and back to work!
• Help my kids to be good always (even when they are all grown up)!
• To reconnect with a special friend that currently is missing from my life!

My list for the husband

• One item (not expensive in the least) that I deep down would love to have….but I will not tell him as it has become a game with me to see how well he knows me and if he is watching all year-long.

Not interested in gift via the 24 hours before Dec 25^th aided by the sales associate who specializes in helping lost husbands find their way through Christmas shopping ….last minute. Nope. I want something that I know reflects he has paid attention all year-long. Course in order to not totally unnerve him I must continue to give the standard fare one expects when one reached forty something on this planet and has kids. You know slippers, pajamas and weird ties. If I was to pay “attention” (to at least what he says), what he really wants is a motorcycle (!!) Nope that will not be under this year’s tree (something to do with nine dependents). I will stick with the new deodorant and socks…maybe some chocolate.

One husband I know wants added credit for the time and effort he has supposedly put in researching and locating the perfect gift. This guy has been up to this for years. He takes a whole day off work the week before Christmas, spending the entire day by himself going out for lunch basically having a  wonderful time and then arrives home to regale his wife with how tired he is from searching high and low for the perfect gift. His legs hurt from all the walking and battling the Christmas shopping crowds. The wife buys this story every year (hence the happy 30 year marriage)! Often when this day of shopping is planned the gift has already been purchased months before. This husband says the value of his gift is raised to celestial levels as he makes a big deal of spending a whole day shopping just for his wife. Reality is this guy is known to not like shopping and uses the time to further research his wish list in such male orientated places as home depot, Canadian Tire not to mention having lunch with some of his male buddies and test driving sports cars and motorcycles. Not so bad I guess. The guy gets a glorious day to himself and brownie points from his wife because she thinks that the “shopping” day was spent all on her! (Regardless of the outcome!)

It is always about the packaging the story that goes with the gift!

Garden Goat Gone Christmas Shopping

(Here is hoping not to be incarcerated for inquiring at Toys R US –“Where do you keep the AMMO?”)

Garden Goat Gone Christmas Shopping

 

Just CHILL

Okay…not sure about you but as a teenager I longed for a job. You know one of those things that get you legitimately out of your house (and away from some of the hourly expectations your parents had for you) with real, hard, cold cash in your pocket. Finally, I was old enough to have one. My boss was almost on the same level as God. What the manager lady said was law. I did not argue… I complied. Either I was raised to be more respectful than the current teenage crowd or perhaps it was that I was so anxious to be able to have money of my own to spend…I hassled no one. Either way, what the boss says goes.

After I moved out of home I was very determined to be on my own and totally independent. To this end I worked three jobs. One fulltime job and two-part time jobs simultaneously. Life was great. I was my own boss living on my own. Happy to be gainfully employed paying my own way in life. Thrilled to afford some of the finer things life had to offer like …new underwear, my own phone (this was before cell phones) and the odd cup of coffee. Truly by these standards one might wonder what my life was before now. I lived as one of four girls being raised by a single mom and yes, new underwear (especially if yours was still deemed wearable…only a little threadbare) was the ultimate. Since then my idea of the finer things has since been revised significantly.

“I am doing everything I can to get the “layabout” out of the house.”

Fast forward my life to today (an average goat with 9 kids and a “Nanny-Goat” to a grand-kid). I am now inundated with teenagers everywhere. Albeit some of them are my own, others are the friends of this age demographic. With many of these kids the notion of a “job” is akin to being told that incarceration or incineration (same difference) awaits them. Sort of a struggle cause they all “want” and “like” money. Just “work” seems to be a dirty word.

The excuses for those teenagers who do not want to find gainful employment include:

• They won’t hire me… no one will. (No…really? Not if you do not apply they won’t!)
• I know people that work there so I can’t. (Why? You will know everyone once you are hired.)
• That job looks boring. (How would you know… really?)
• Can’t work “there” no one has heard of that place. (I thought you wanted anonymity!)
• I need a job that lets me text all day. (Is there such an environment out there?)
• They only hire beautiful people. (Does that mean by definition…you are “not”?)

Finally in spite of it all…some company out there actually decides to hire the teenager in question. YIPPEE! Before everyone gets excited…it is only now the fun starts.

Because although someone separate to your personal being is the one employed it may as well be you. The worry that the teenager still buried in bed will and be late for their work shift within the hour somehow becomes your concern. (Note it is your forehead getting wrinkled not theirs.) The kid in question is literally oblivious as they languish around the house even though their appearance at this “job” is required within the next 30 minutes. You (not them) start freaking out (no amount of age defying night cream is gonna help you now).

Now there is a race to look for their uniform. “Mom did you wash my work stuff?” I yell back “what does that look like?” the answer from the basement is deafening “black pants, top and apron!” Well… let me stop and think…in the 60 loads I already wash every week…would I notice another item of black clothing? (Short answer NO) Ah… yes better watch the clean laundry for the defining “apron”…NOT. Even though you do not work at their job you are somehow responsible for locating the uniform and getting them to their place of employment ON TIME. That would almost be okay if they complied but instead you are literally doing all you can short of strangling the kid and taking the now-quieted comatose teenager to their place of employment. This scenario is exhausting (not to mention further wrinkle inducing).

When the delight of vicariously enjoying the responsibility of your teenager’s jobs involves more than one teenager…it will literally kill you. Why should I care that this kid shows up in the right dress code, at the right time with the right attitude? Too late for therapy… this responsibility is one of those things that got tucked into the blanket at the hospital when I was handed the child at birth! I am doing everything I can to get the “layabout” out of the house on time his  work… so, yah I am freaking out …mid-yell I get told to “JUST CHILL”-(??)

I am doing everything I can to get the “layabout” out of the house on time his work… so, yah I am freaking out …mid-yell I get told to “JUST CHILL”-(??)

Beyond the “getting-the-kid-to-work-dressed-and-on-time” (not to mention the “hag-like” look you have developed from all the stress)…then there is the “other problem.” Work is scheduled and this creature you gave birth to informs you that he is taking a “sick” day. First of all, the types of employment open to kids of these ages are usually fast food, specialty stores, or part time hours in retail. Traditionally NONE of these employers offer a “sick day”-the part that kills me is I know people who have worked a solid 20 years fulltime and have yet to take a sick day. Why are today’s kids SO different? (Have they all watched “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” as infants?)

(Have they all watched “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” as infants?)

In the interests of good parenting the conversation goes something like this. YOU are sick? What is wrong…the sick one answers “Oh nothing.” What do you mean “nothing” you said you are calling in “SICK”? Response from the highschooler… “Yeah…I just don’t wanna work today”…Why not? “Well my friends are all hanging out later so I do not have time for work.” ARGHHH here we go again (visions of this child in his forties still living in my basement)!

“Well my friends are all hanging out later so I do not have time for work.”

The solution…I need headphones with great music and hourly applications of beautifying night cream to combat the facial ravages of my “FREAK OUT” …oh…and perhaps something more than “just” coffee in my cup. Could the teenager be right? Perhaps I should just somehow learn to “CHILL”…

Garden Goat just chilling over here….

Garden Goat just chilling over here….

I am now “Busy” … legit …who knew?

I hate the word busy. It indicates a certain level of snobbery. People are always trying to communicate their value and superiority with the buzz word “busy.”  When someone tells you they are too busy to have been in touch or have called my feelings so often get hurt. Somehow this word denotes to me that in the important things in your life, my friend, I was not one of them. (!!) After I get over the initial slap to my ego the rational side of my mind reminds me that life does often go by in a blur. I guess “busy” could describe this. Sadly I must admit to doing this to several friends myself. I think the word I should be using is “unorganized” or a better descriptor might be (NO REALLY is) my “chaotic” lifestyle.  Memo to myself… change my priorities (a future post no doubt!).

Don’t get me wrong I think I know a thing or two about “busy.” As most of you know I have 9 kids, a fulltime job (beyond the one my offspring thinks is spelt M-A-I-D!) not to mention being the chief protector of my home against the in-house home wreckers (…a 24/7 service)!

These days I get up in the morning, stiff, every bone aching and think if this is what I feel like in my forties I can hardly wait until my sixties.(!!)  I attribute most of this to either being too busy or not busy enough.  My grandfather was known to tell his children that the human body rusts out well before it wears out (words of encouragement no doubt to lounge-lizard teenagers). I am determined to prove the opposite. I swear there are body parts on me that if I was a car I would have been deemed “scrap metal” a long time ago (and no not “those” parts just ‘cause I have a bunch of kids…don’t even think it)!

I guess “busy” could describe this!

As a child I had to be kept busy even if it meant I had to ask to do chores. In order to alleviate the anxiety caused by having nothing to do I would invent all sorts of wild activities much to the chagrin and horror of the parental team (babysitters included) charged with my care. My goal in life has always been to pack in about as much as can be squeezed into a day (something my husband has grown to loathe and detest about me). That worked well when I was younger. I was always “busy.”

Lately there just seems so much left to do after the day is done and my forty-year-something-old eyelids are closing in disbelief it is already midnight and “the day” is truly over. The good news to this is that I have absolutely NOTHING in common with those who toss and turn restlessly hoping that sleep will come and take them to slumber in oblivion.  I can barely remember turning out the light, far less my head hitting the pillow. I used to tell everyone (those jealous insomniacs) that I was enjoying the sleep of “the just.” I have come to realize it is more likely to be just total exhaustion nothing to do with any righteousness on my part.(!!) As I lay flaked out on my bed the caption on such a sight should read “I am woman…hear me SNORE!” I seem to think some of my fatigue is due to being at least as busy as my fellow human.

In trying to raise (I use the term loosely) my kids the notion of organized sports has often come up. I have been most successful in keeping any of such commitments to a minimum. This has meant that I have managed to elude “hockey” up until the 7^th child was well past his 8^th birthday.  (Not too bad.. eh?  After all I do live in Canada).

We had a very dear friend whose son was in hockey (he actually ate, slept and breathed hockey) and this kid really influenced my son. Sadly the friends moved away I thought with them would go the desire my kid seemed to have to play hockey. Well not so much.  Three years later still a burning relentless desire for hockey is alive in this kid.

So in spite of driving “a van” for years (no sports mom here! ) don’t you know I now have kid #7 in hockey. (!!)

Not sure what it is but as soon as anyone has heard that this kid is in hockey suddenly now I am being referred to as “busy.” Really?  You mean 9 kids, laundry, groceries, (more laundry) chauffeuring, refereeing, supervising, diapers, more laundry, appointments (not to mention the school stuff times 7 kids), husband and a full-time job outside of home apparently does not count as ”busy.”

Put a kid out on the ice in a league and you are at once “presto” a “hockey mom” and recognized as legit “BUSY”!

Put a kid out on the ice in a league and you are at once “presto” a hockey mom and recognized as legit BUSY!

Now to be fair to the other hockey moms out there “busy” can apply. Emails show up with practice times for whenever the team could get the ice time and then you have to scramble and shuffle the rest of the family’s itinerary to comply. Compounding this is that your arrival at practice could be for 5:30 am (bring it on… a “sleep in” for me usually is not past 6:30 am). Don’t forget one has to arrive 30 minutes early (to suit up) and there may be extra travelling time if the practice or game is in the next town or two. Then there are the fundraisers, the meetings, the pictures and the special events. Uh-huh…yep “BUSY” is right.

Being “busy” is definitely the superior position as it somehow denotes an innate value far above your average fellow-man. People nod and discuss others as being “busy” and suddenly the listeners are held captivated by the worth and integrity of the person being described. Then some people will talk about in spite of so-and-so’s “busy” schedule they made time to do such and such. More value. More nodding of heads in awe as we imagine that this “busy” person is kind of like superhuman and already floats above the rest of us lay about slackers.

We are so caught up with the word “busy” no one has stopped to think what “busy” really means. “Busy” could be cleaning out one’s basement, playing cards, alphabetizing the cans in the pantry…I don’t know…taking a bubble bath…who knows? “Busy” always sounds so legitimate boasting both integrity and discipline not to mention the inherent superiority factor.

Perhaps it is not so much about the word “busy” that makes one valued as it is the rampant fear that until we attain recognition as “busy” by our peers any one of us might be is vulnerable of being identified as the opposite  …”LAZY!”

Definitely “busy” implies a distinct value of almost superhuman proportions…and now thanks to hockey I can now join this elitist club. I am now officially “BUSY”….only thing… I am left wondering what I was before. (??)

A verifiably “busy” Garden Goat

Hockey mom goat wearing helmet with hockey sticks caption reads I am now officially “BUSY”….only thing… I am left wondering what I was before. (??)

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MAN UP!

 

Over the summer I had the opportunity to take most of my tribe to an amusement park. Not normally something I have ever really done much in the last twenty years with the exception of once about eight years ago. For some reason the creatures I gave birth to think that  riding the most dangerous, mind-blowing insane ride is a thrill they must have… regardless of outcome.

Yes, albeit thrilling…just happy to not be calling the coroner besides it reminded me too much of my personal life (minus the antidepressants I long for!).

Not totally insensitive to the thrill of the ride, my gang managed to convince this old goat to go on one of the more tame roller coasters. Yes, albeit  thrilling…I was just happy to not be calling the coroner besides it reminded me too much of my personal life (minus the antidepressants I long for!).

It completely confounds me that when the same creatures are sick (at home) and one must attend to the weak of stomach ANYTHING that causes the gastric volcano to erupt must be avoided. At ALL costs. Not so with rides. The more severe the warning, the more nauseous the result, the better they liked it. I have children who would howl in such disgust should a sibling cover their person (and/or worse their clothes) with any projectile liquid originating from within another’s body (the worst being the contents of a sibling’s stomach contents).

But this is somehow totally different at an amusement park. “Mister-all-of-18” who is totally “grossed out” at having to clean up a frying pan after scrambled eggs is busy laughing (while covered in the sibling’s throw up) basking in the notoriety that it was his decision to take his poor 16-year-old brother on too many dizzying rides.

The more severe the warning, the more nauseous the result, the better they liked it.

I asked the idiot question of the child that was now almost comatose from dehydration “why AFTER you were sick the FIRST time would you ever consent to going on ANOTHER ride with your brother?” Little did I know that plain old common sense was invoked and the rationale was to “MAN UP!” Now the same boy, still covered in vile stomach contents actually assured the offending brother (the spewer) of the safety of yet other death-defying rides with this statement….“OBVIOUSLY there was no MORE DOWN THERE to worry about…it already came up.!”

Clearly these two have spent NO time taking care of sick children or they would have known that when it comes to throwing up there are those so talented that repeat performances are infinitely possible. And such performances often leave the observer wondering how after numerous retchings could there possibly be anything more than a few drops to expel. (??) Those (who toss their cookies) are able to consistently deliver copious amounts of liquid regardless of the volume of past performances (even if only moments prior). Before this gets just too “gross” the idea is that while abdominal volcanic eruptions regularly deem that a sick day be taken for school apparently similar eruptions do not mean a cessation in going on freaky rides. (???)

For some reason the creatures I gave birth to think that riding the most dangerous, mind-blowing insane ride is a thrill they must have regardless of outcome.

At first I had no idea what had happened. When you travel with the numbers I do often we split up the older kids and the younger ones as these kinds of theme parks gear the rides by the age group. The two older boys went together when we got there to explore and have fun until supper when they would be expected to help out with the younger group. We would rendezvous at the van (in the parking lot) at suppertime for a picnic lunch. Well suppertime came and when I approached the van the sight in the distance before me said it all. When you drive a 12 passenger extended van it shines as a beacon above all the other vehicles in the parking lot. As I get closer to the van I notice two running shoes kicked aside and a crumpled pair of jeans (complete with belt) and a rolled up shirt strewn on the pavement near the back tires. Briefly considered the possibility that some prison inmate had escaped and was holed up in our vehicle.

Nah.. discovered the owner of the clothes (my 16-year-old son) stretched out on the back seat wearing only his boxers because he had thrown up so much from the rides. The patient was not interested in any food and wanted Advil for his headache and dizziness. I told the man-child inmate to remain in the van, sip some water slowly and to rest while waiting until the end of the evening when we would be back at the vehicle to load up and go home. Minutes later this same kid was dressed in a new set of clothes and ready to go for “round two.” When I asked “why?” (again)… I was told that he was going to “MAN UP” as it he did not want to “WIMP OUT!”

Speed up the calendar. School has started the same man-child now has the sniffles and does not want to go to school. When I suggest that he “man up” and not “wimp out” just take cold medication and go to school (you know like I might have when I was younger)…I get told to “get real!” Apparently at school they “understand” children better than the parents and know that kids get sick and can’t function when they are sick. Who knew? Thinking of sending the holiday pics to the principal… (!!!)

The Garden Goat (still without sufficient medication)!

 

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Never “Total Recall” …but it is ALWAYS in a “SAFE place”

 

Well… as I get older I am realizing that either I am in the midst of the beginnings of Alzheimer’s (reticent to admit that I perhaps have been this distracted all along) or in very deep denial. First of all you would need to understand that I have a close-to photographic memory and can easily remember random facts, relative’s birth dates (same difference for some folks) and have total recall of a sundry of information. Illustration of this gift is that I can remember every single item and its correct price without exception on a $400 grocery order. I can often remember the most detailed account of any given situation not to mention recount of childhood memories in full Technicolor. I never write anything down because I have relied on for years on the ability to recall almost anything instantaneously. Can I remember where I put the keys, the bank card or even my cell? No… not unless I make a HUGE, conscious effort to retain in my head where I stashed them….I almost never remember where they are.

At first I thought this failing memory was due to being “the keeper” of so many kids. As I am distracted and often doing a million other things while trying to remember what I am doing with the everyday, regular, boring stuff such as the keys. Then I realized it was a much deeper problem (although I do have talents that might offset this handicap). Honestly, if my services are required to break up a scuffle among the troops, attend to the wounded, court-martial the perpetrator how in the world can I be expected to know where the keys to the army tank are? This is why I could never join the army. I would be marvelous at planning and scheming for the battle, plotting the attack, coping with the casualties and delivering the aid and rations. Just do not ask me where I parked the tank and for Heaven’s sake DO not ask me where the keys are. I just will not remember. I draw a complete blank…almost every time.

“I smile and tell everyone that my brain is busy somewhere else (I am in total denial)”.

Up to this point in my life I found this a debilitating part of my personality. The reality that I needlessly live on the edge of crisis and chaos as I spend hours searching through my purse (may as well be the black hole of outer space) for such mundane items as the bank card, my car keys and more often than not my cell phone (which is usually discovered later…on my lap UNDER the very purse I am searching through!!!).

My husband hates being in any store at the check-out with me as I then can never find my bank card. I must say the stores I frequent are very patient with me. Now my husband (if he is with me) tries to remind me to look ahead of time (like before I go in the store) for my bank card (no doubt to save him reoccurring embarrassment as the people in line become exasperated with my seeming incompetence.) I smile and tell everyone that my brain is busy somewhere else (I am in total denial).

This “forgetting where I put stuff” is becoming very frustrating. It gets worse because for very important things it is disastrous.  I am conscious of placing those items in a very “safe place.” When asked later to reveal the location of the “safe place” (you know where one might store things like the mortgage papers, birth certificates and health cards)…my mind draws another blank. Now before the whole world thinks I am totally “non-compos mentis” much of the strategy behind finding a “safe place” has to do with the little fingers that live here.  Depending on the item, not only must it be safe but it also means that it is kept dry, flat, high-up, enclosed (no dust) while being retrievable. The little kids will search and destroy (and occasionally snack on the item) and the bigger ones will do crazy things like take out their birth certificates to school (presumably to show friends and hopefully not to create fake IDs) and then lose them costing time and money to replace. So my “safe place” often becomes so “safe” that I have no idea where the loot actually is!

Memo to self… “Understand you are an old goat and start making writing this down!”

This not remembering where I put things terrifies the children. They BEG my husband to confiscate items being seized through disciplinary measures. The kids tell their dad “please don’t let mom ground me off that …by the time she remembers where she put it I will be in college!” So TRUE! One little guy’s Gameboy I put in a “safe place” (largely to protect it from his thieving brethren) and when I finally discovered it a year and a half later not only was the battery an issue but the child had completely outgrown the game!

But in spite of my hapless mind it does work wonders for saving money. I put the funds in a “safe place” and decades later I find dollars I forgot I was trying to save. While there are those that would feel badly for the distress I cause to my family with my absent mindedness…I this memory issue also help me to forget most of their trespasses and therefore they all live to see another day. I am not the grudge bearing type…good thing too I am not as I doubt I would remember to stay angry!

There is the ultimate “safe place” I am still working on finding. It would be one where my tribe might not find me for whole 30 minutes…(I can dream) or maybe if I forget where I have hidden myself I might have a forced vacation (and like it)!

There is the ultimate “safe place” I am still working on finding. It would be one where my tribe might not find me for whole 30 minutes…(I can dream) or maybe if I forget where I have hidden myself I might have a forced vacation (and like it)!

Memo to self… “Understand you are an old goat and start making writing this down!” (Problem is l would like put those notes in a “safe place” too!)

The Garden Goat

 

A “hairy bird” goes back to school

Well…summer raced by as I played cook, nursemaid, parole officer (same difference) and supreme ruler of my universe to the multitudes in the absence of my husband (gone for about 12 weeks of medical care in another city following serious surgery to his ankle). There are certainly many freedoms in being the only one looking after the entire tribe. Basically it looked like this…my way…or else. (!!) On the flip side…12 weeks of being the only parent 24/7 to a tribe of 9 (8 months and up) is completely…exhausting! Oh..and yes the husband was doing helpful “things”  all along that I took for granted and discovered this truth in his absence.

Sadly it is now time for school and the summer has come to a close.

Sadly it is now time for school and the summer has come to a close. The majority of my offspring are NOT looking forward to joining the ranks of their peers on the yellow buses headed for “higher learning.” With one exception, a little boy who starts Grade One this year can’t wait to start school and be “gone” for the whole day. Wait until he finds out the truth about school. Yep…I can see me in about a month dragging the same child out from under the covers and trying to regale him with “fun” things about school. The sad reality is more often than not Grade One heralds the end of a carefree imagination and is replaced by doing things “the right way.” It will be a year where his imaginary friends will die mercilessly …slaughtered by the cold words of “cooler” kids on the playground. I won’t hear about how he has packed all his toys and together he and the toys have had adventures all over the world in one day. Some other realist out there will be sure to let my son know this is also IMPOSSIBLE to do. I hope that after a year of Grade One he still believes in the IMPOSSIBLE. As belief in the impossible is the only way I can get through a moment (never mind one FULL day).

“Back to school” would not be complete without back to school shopping (very last-minute over here). This is truly very overrated. A national school supply chain heralds this season as “The most wonderful time of the year.” (See you tube ad at bottom of post.) Nothing could be further from the truth!

The younger crowd does not care about any school supplies other than having a “cool” back pack/lunch kit. The older kids would prefer NO lunch kit…as this is so “lame.” (??) Apparently to show up in school with a plastic bag in a world conscious of green decisions to protect the environment is somehow NOT lame (?). This is because “everyone else is doing it.” If I hear the rationale just one more time that “everyone else does this…” I will have a bird (Not to worry my kids and their friends really want to see this). This is just the shopping for the mundane luggage to cart one’s lunch and paraphernalia around in. It gets better!

Then we get to school supplies. When I went to school mostly everything was provided and it was a public school system (although throughout life I have been a connoisseur of private, and public and homeschooling). I used to be so excited for the new coloured pencils and crayons. Well that has all changed. Some schools want everything provided from the paper and pens, through glue sticks, rulers and scissors and on to calculators, tennis balls (for the feet on your kid’s chair) and then (let us not ever forget) huge amounts of KLEENEX. With the numbers I deal with… to be providing 6 boxes of tissues per child is way more than this crowd will ever use (or want to use…sadly) in a year. I got to wonder if the excess supplies are to stock the yearly school garage sale for future fundraising. No, perhaps the secret behind the copious amount of tissues required is the teachers are in dire need of Kleenex  themselves as they have to deal with a cross-section of humanity in dwarf sizes and varying degrees of maturity.

The older crowd are busy regaling me with the need that not only do they need calculators but now most of their buddies have their own laptops. So what? Then it is time for the (newly) teenager-daughter to pipe up that she CAN’T go to school without a cell phone in her possession. When I point out the fact that this child rides the bus to and fro school and is supposed to be in school learning … so “like” what would you need a cell for (?). The answer slays me. It is so that she can “text” her buddies…the ones sitting in class with her (you know the ones less than an arm’s length distance away)…oh and also to be sure she not ostracized for being not “cool” as she MUST be (at least) “seen” with a cell phone. “Mom a cell phone is a basic necessity!“ The phone is mostly for show, taking pictures, texting and in short a distraction to any school work that actually might occasionally occur. So, nah… a BIG NO when it comes to a cell phone for this kid. I am real popular at this point.

One a side note I love the “MUST-HAVES” list no one seems to care how all of this will be funded or afforded. I have learned in the eons of years I have been at this game that most of the requested school supplies are “nice to haves.” If I miss something critical you may be sure the teacher will let me know (in addition to many reminders from the child in question).

One a side note I love the “MUST-HAVES” list no one seems to care how all of this will be funded or afforded!

Moving on to the clothing (or lack thereof)…the little kids are fairly easy to please. A pair or two of shoes, some shirts and jeans (hand-me-downs) and everything is fine. The older kids…not so much. “Oh I can’t wear that”, “too lame”, “I look too fat” (child who is less than average weight), “I am too old for Disney” (did not think ANYONE was ever TOO old for Disney). The comments continue “I am not a nun…I am not wearing that!” The latest, “I need clothes that cover my hairy legs mom because you won’t let me shave!” (This kid is barely ten and I cannot locate “peach fuzz” on her…even with a magnifying glass!). Course then “the-who-is-allowed-to-shave” becomes the topic of conversation as we move on to the next store. Finally I offer to supply the new teenager with a disposable razor. Well the lip is curled up (Duh…Mom goofed again) “when I said shave I was sure you would take me to a spa and have my legs waxed like so-and-so’s mom does!” Again…a definite “NO” at my end. Disposable razor…take it or leave it. I know people older than I who t have worked all their lives and never been to a spa. Since when did “waxing” at a “spa” become the norm for a kid still in grade school?

Morale of the story …more is less. My kids have rulers, some paper, new shoes all bundled into existing backpacks (ones that weren`t overgrown with too much lunch mould from last year) and a few lunch kits and are now ready for school.  Decided to keep the bulk of the tissues here to mop up the tears from those disappointed from not getting “the basics” on this shopping trip.

No longer need to threaten to have a hairy bird…apparently one lives with me already!

Have yet to find a SPA that accepts goats!

The Garden Goat

(Have yet to find a SPA that accepts goats!)

Yes, FACEBOOK… “To be or not to be”… truly THE question!

“To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles”

William Shakespeare

(Hamlet, Act Three scene one)

Yes, FACEBOOK… “To be or not to be”… truly THE question.

If I ask the teenage members of my household… it is a no-brainer! You are not considered alive (or with a pulse) unless you have a Facebook account you regularly contribute to and update. Facebook among many of the kids is a lot like Pokémon … “you got to catch them all.” Friends are collected online like nothing I have ever seen before. I know of kids who have Facebook accounts (younger than the mandatory age of 13) and have a whopping 848 friends! If you were to see each of these “friends” only once a year one would have to see 2.3 friends every day of the year. Other teenagers have as many as 2,100 Facebook buddies (I kid you not). Really makes you wonder what “friend” even means on Facebook.

Yes, FACEBOOK… “To be or not to be”… truly THE question.

I was invited to join Facebook by my kids several years ago. My answers (one through ten) were “No, NO, Definitely NOT and NEVER.” Then I realized that in order to monitor my kids in cyberspace (prior to any possible incarcerations) the best plan would be to accept Facebook and have some (although minimal at best) understanding of what my kids are doing on the Information Highway.

Some of my kids think it is great I am now on Facebook. Although others hang their heads in shame that I have only a small number of “Facebook friends” compared to them. (!!!) Many months passed and I had only 15 friends … half of which were my own kids. I was told I was “lame” (not the first time for sure!) Facebook is not as easy as it seems.

“I have learned that some people swear by Facebook and others abhor it!”

First of all one needs to completely understand that any information shared on this utility is forever available in some database and can be resurrected to suitably embarrass one in the future or impede career advancement.

Kids just don’t get it. Kids do not understand that “sharing info” needs to be done with great caution. That old rule “don’t say or write anything that cannot be published on the front page of the local paper” has surely escaped this generation. Sure the usual banal stuff the teen squad has out there around sleepovers and makeup (before and after pics) could just be considered nuisance info until someone posts pictures of the teenage girls’ sleepover with the kids resplendent in PJs (if that). Where it gets even more serious is when some of these kids (albeit age 18 or 19) are drinking with their friends and compromising comments and pictures get posted.

Stories everywhere about how people forget what they shared and who they shared what info with. One employee had “friended” his boss and then called in “sick” for work one day. All was well until the employee shared his pictures of himself working on his car that afternoon with the caption “I played hooky from work today!” See… when you have several hundred friends you forget who you know and what you said. Needless to say…the guy’s boss messaged him with few words …“YOU ARE FIRED!”

At first I did not like Facebook. I did not want to share much (that is nothing new for me) and with 15 friends (mostly the offspring I reside with) there was not much activity either way. Then people started adding me and I loved seeing pictures and updates that I normally would not get to see. Being someone who loves quotes (also with images) these often become my “status” updates. Sometimes my quotes are shared by others or copied.

Things that I have learned are to question my kids friendships with such Facebook Profiles (albeit it is true you know me as “a goat”) as “Monster Guy” and “Rob the Tomato.” This has part of me wondering if they are not perverts incognito waiting to be collected (“friended”) on Facebook (the goats I am not too worried about).  I have learned that some people swear by Facebook and others abhor it. I used to think the older the friend the least likely they use Facebook…not necessarily so.

No matter what anyone says “unfriending” on Facebook does hurt. Tears have flowed in our house because of “unfriending” with no advance warning or discussion only to be followed up by blocking (ability to prevent someone from seeing your profile or trying to connect on-line with you). Facebook allows people access and control that in real life they would think twice before using. It discourages talking or personal communication.

Sadly many friends I do have (and would like to be more in contact with) do not “do Facebook” and the reasons are varied. The less technically savvy aren’t in any hurry to get on board, the introverts can’t stand it and the right-wing traditional folk view it as a dangerous information collecting tool (likely run clandestinely by some government agency).

“…you are not considered alive or with a pulse unless you have a Facebook account you regularly contribute to and update.”

Pictures are another big deal on Facebook. Don’t get me wrong I love pictures however it does raise many questions like: Who should own the picture? The one who took it (as is customary within copyright laws) or the one who is rendered in the photo? I have had friends take pictures with their children and then post photos of both my children and theirs on Facebook. At first I was concerned, then realized that the exposure was limited to just the immediate circle of friends so I could live with this. Photographs are still a very iffy proposition. I am not completely comfortable with pictures of my kids being taken by other kids (especially without my knowledge or prior consent) and then being modified (including the possibility of adding inappropriate content) and then posted on-line by others.

There is some advantages to Facebook. Community groups on Facebook are a phenomenal source of inspiration and advice. If you are lucky enough to find a community group within your interest scope this is a valuable source of information, opinion and support.

The chat feature of Facebook that becomes available when your friends are on-line I have come to understand is crazy at certain teenage hours (always after about 10:00 pm). I have watched my own daughter maintain a running commentary across no less than 30 friends simultaneously texting messages back and forth with everybody at lightning speed. When I found this incredible my daughter then showed me that there were over 101 of her “friends” all online on Facebook all at once. Overwhelming! That night I retired and thanked God (I am no longer a teenager) I had a few close friends as I would never be inclined (or able) to sustain that kind of following…and with absolutely no interest in entertaining those masses with the minutia of my everyday life.

Facebook has crept into almost everything you can think of. Last year my 12-year-old was visiting friends in Eastern Canada and these friends were making a day trip to the United States. I emailed a letter granting my daughter permission to cross the border (in the company of the other child’s parents) along with a scanned image of her birth certificate. Once my daughter arrived at the border, the Customs Officer asked my kid if she had Facebook and then took her inside the customs office to “log-on” thereby proving who she was. Facebook providing the on-line confirmation of photo ID. I was stunned!

“Facebook is truly a love/hate relationship at this end.”

Games are all over Facebook. I was never much of a game person until I got hooked on Bubble Witch and trying to beat the levels without any additional help from spending any money whatsoever. Managed to get to level 117 so far (and completely for free)…and, yes, very addicting. I like it because in a few moments the lives are all gone and I had a five-minute break (likely preventing a few  strangled teenagers at this end) and have to wait a few hours before more lives are granted.

A cross-section of statuses I have read on Facebook include:

• I am craving some albatross tonight…(!!)
• Anyone seen Batman tonight ? (Maybe at my house…then again my cape is probably in the washing machine…again)
• Sleepless… again (Nah that does not happen to me…too exhausted…many nights I have no recollection of turning the light out.)
• Only had four-hours sleep (hey that is my usual night.. that is a good rest)
• I am soooo bored (wish I had that much time to myself)
• Who likes me (not going to answer…likely same kid who ditched his chores)
• Inbox me if you want to date me (thankfully no one posted this from my house and NO I did not answer back!)

Things my children hate about me on Facebook is that I can see when they are on and often comment including busting some of the younger teens for not being in bed. Other progeny have decided to totally disown me and block me. From what I understand likely a good thing too as I don’t think I am missing much that one son tried to shave with a pineapple and cut his ear at a party (actually the same son is likely very grateful that thanks to his blocking me on Facebook I cannot comment on his profile) I can live without seeing.

I am a Canadian goat and Facebook stats in Canada recently indicate 17,716,820 as  the number of users in this country (our entire population is approximately 34,482,779) meaning that more than 50% of fellow Canadians can be found on Facebook.(!!)

According to what is readily available on internet there are 835,525,280 million Facebook users worldwide (as of March 31, 2012 http://www.internetworldstats.com/facebook.htm).

If that were not enough shopping and consuming is rapidly advancing through social media with commerce sales possibly totalling $9.2 billion by the end of this year and sales expected to climb to $14.25 billion in 2013 and $30 billion in 2015 (according to Social Skinny http://thesocialskinny.com/99-new-social-media-stats-for-2012).

I think we are on the brink of social media changing everything we do. As very soon we will see everyday purchases aided by social media being made online with a smartphone.

So while my kids sit around and think I am a dinosaur because I can remember a time without cellphones, microwaves, email and MP3s… the new reality is our children’s kids may be totally in awe of a time where their parents (the real dinosaurs) actually visited friends, spoke on the phone and went to the store to buy something.

So yes…I am taking “arms against a sea of troubles” as Facebook is truly a love/hate relationship at this end.

After all of this…don’t forget to “like” The Garden Goat on Facebook! http://www.facebook.com/GardenGoatQuote

“I am a Canadian goat and the Facebook stats in Canada recently indicate 17,716,820 as the number of users in Canada!”

An “ALIEN” because I like having my kids around in Summer-(thought I was one anyway with a Large Family)

Summer is half way over and I am astonished at the number of people I meet (when I spring lose out of my cage occasionally) that look at me and say “I bet you can hardly wait until they are all back in school!” This statement is hilarious given that it is usually delivered to me by another mom of two (maximum three) children and often after I have witnessed this parent’s exasperation at the antics of their offspring in public. I am often incognito. Shopping or running errands with just a nominal few from my tribe. I appear in the grocery store as someone who can be trusted as I almost pass for “normal” by society’s standards by having only 2 or three kids with me.

“I bet you can hardly wait until they are all back in school!”

I am afraid that my answer to this question is the one that reveals my true identity as a keeper of a large number of kids. I always answer “No…not really… I like having my children around and miss them when they are in school!” At this point the interviewing parent tilts their head while looking me over head to toe (likely in hopes of spotting ALIEN skin or other extraterrestrial attributes). After checking me out they say “Really?… No one has ever told me THAT before. It must be that you have a lot of help from your husband and family and you never have to spend much time cooped up with kids and no help.” (!!)

At this point the interviewing parent tilts their head while looking me over head to toe (likely in hopes of spotting ALIEN skin or other extraterrestrial attributes).

By this stage it is all I can do to maintain a straight face. This entire summer I have been with 9 kids or more…(counting a grandchild and “other” children coming over to play) all by myself as my husband had surgery in another city and has had to recuperate there to avail himself of the post-surgery physiotherapy care in that location. Yes… “cooped up” might be a way to describe it…although not mine.

Big marketing bucks are spent by retailers every fall hyping up the back to school season. One office / school supply store (national chain) is famous for their rendition of a Christmas carol played in late August/September recognizing the joy with which parents shop for back to school using the tune “It is the most wonderful time of the year….” (A time it is assumed parents eagerly await more than children wait for Christmas.)

In my attempts (although feeble) to fit in with mainstream society I thought I would answer in the affirmative the next time this question came up. Well that went well. I told this woman I could NOT WAIT until the “rug rats” where back in school. She looked at my three and said she could understand as she only had one and did not know how I managed the three little ones I had with me that day. I could not keep the deceit up any longer so with a broad grin I said “no…the ones I wanted back in school were the “other six” I left at home.” Yep back to looking like an Alien again. Total shock is immediately registered on the “other” parent’s face.

But seriously, I do admit there are challenging times and moments here and there where I do think about what it was like when everyone had a place to be (school) but on the whole I like my kids and I like being around them. I am bold enough to tell people exactly how it is. I like that summer lets bedtimes be relaxed, that more time is spent on creative relaxation (with the exception of a few teenagers with employment commitments) and that there is no homework. I also love that playing outside (like when I was little), making friends and playing with each other are rediscovered.  I like getting reacquainted with my kids in their more relaxed state. Not racing to complete homework, stay late for choir, gym practice or other extracurricular activities. I love watching them play the kind of games they invent (especially our crowd as the numbers often outweigh the equipment available at any one time) and the dynamics as they unfold between all of them.

Things I have learned is the children get along much better when no parent is watching.

Fall comes all too fast and with it the hurried life of school schedules, homework, extracurricular activities and I close the book on the pages of another summer’s carefree playing and imagination I do so with some sadness. Sometimes I look back and think I learned the most about who my children truly are during the summer months. Don’t get me wrong it is all not a bed of roses and I have some scars to prove it. I am often cleaning the house with a blowtorch and power-sander (and that is just bath time!).

I profoundly miss them once they return to school. Things I have learned is the children get along much better when no parent is watching. When push comes to shove they do care about each other (regardless of the atrocious insults they have been known to hurl at each other), and no activity or equipment can match the creative solutions and games this bunch will come up with on their own. By far the best expenditure this summer was $20 to purchase 5 sets of second-hand roller blades. Hockey is being played as are races. The older more accomplished kids have set themselves up as the “skating coaches” for the younger kids. When my kids show up back in school, while they may not boast about what fun they had on a cruise or family vacation I do know that this summer will go down as one of the most fun…with each other.

As for “most wonderful time of the year” that would be now…when everyone is home!

So,YES…I will miss my kids when they return to school, and NO, I am not looking forward to the fall. As for “most wonderful time of the year” that would be now…when everyone is home!

The ALIEN Garden Goat

You can vote for me EVERYDAY (until Aug 1) at: http://www.circleofmoms.com/top25/Top-25-Moms-With-Big-Families-2012#_

EXCITING NEWS! The Garden Goat has been nominated for a contest featuring top 25 blogs written by moms of large families. You can vote for me EVERYDAY (until Aug 1) at: http://www.circleofmoms.com/top25/Top-25-Moms-With-Big-Families-2012#_