We had our first snowfall overnight and it was a doozy. I awoke at 3:30am when the power went out. There was thunder and lightning, wind and a blanket of heavy, wet snow. Four hours later, when the kids woke up, we went out to survey the damage.
Six inches (15 cm) of slush covered the autumn-coloured leaves still hanging on the trees; large branches lay all along the street and the sidewalks, and several power lines had been downed. The pear tree we planted just after Neva was born was almost completely destroyed, as was the old magnolia tree in our neighbour's front yard.
But as Bob and I looked at the morning with our grown up eyes, seeing only damage and clean up and messy driving conditions, the kids had an entirely different outlook. All three put on their coats and boots over top of their pyjamas and ran outside. What they saw meant snow forts and snowmen, tobogganing and snow angels. And it was beautiful.
Later today, after I've recovered from the shock of winter's early arrival, I think I will go out and have a snowball fight!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Running With Scissors ...
There is a lot of very sage, motherly advice that gets passed from generation to generation: don't talk with food in your mouth, never talk to strangers, always wear clean underwear. I'd like to focus on an oldie but a goodie: don't run with scissors.
I'm not sure that my 6-year-old son actually runs with scissors -- certainly I've never witnessed it. But there are plenty of other things that can go wrong with a pair of blunt-ended safety scissors. Like cutting your perfect spelling test into tiny pieces. ("I want Granny to pick a word and ask me to spell it!") Or cutting your bangs to the scalp when the teacher's not looking. ("Owen did it too!") And then there's snipping "vents" into your shorts. ("It was an accident!" he claimed. An accident? All thirteen times?!)
Milo always talks with food in his mouth, not only talks to passers-by but tells them all our names and ages as well, and as long as he's wearing underwear at all we're good. But I think I'd just rather he not have the scissors at all, thank you very much.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
I'm not sure that my 6-year-old son actually runs with scissors -- certainly I've never witnessed it. But there are plenty of other things that can go wrong with a pair of blunt-ended safety scissors. Like cutting your perfect spelling test into tiny pieces. ("I want Granny to pick a word and ask me to spell it!") Or cutting your bangs to the scalp when the teacher's not looking. ("Owen did it too!") And then there's snipping "vents" into your shorts. ("It was an accident!" he claimed. An accident? All thirteen times?!)
Milo always talks with food in his mouth, not only talks to passers-by but tells them all our names and ages as well, and as long as he's wearing underwear at all we're good. But I think I'd just rather he not have the scissors at all, thank you very much.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
What a Turkey …
Editor's Note: Because Canada is north of the United States, its harvest comes earlier in the year. As such, Thanksgiving in Canada is the second Monday in October.
This past weekend, Bob and I sent the kids to my mother's cottage to spend Thanksgiving there while we got away for a much needed break. Although we've each had overnights away from the kids, it was the first time we'd been away together without them. And as I suspected, they were so well occupied by all their aunts, uncles and cousins, they really didn't miss us much at all!
On the drive back home, we caught up on their weekend, which they praised as they best time of their lives. They went on a long hike, they played cards, they went fishing, they stayed up really late. And they had Thanksgiving dinner.
"And Mommy," Neva told me, "Milo ate almost everything on his plate!"
I had my doubts, knowing my veg-a-phobic son who also refuses pork and poultry. Time to dig a little deeper. "So, what exactly was on your plate?"
"The teenagers served him," Neva continued to speak for Milo. They had given him turkey, potatoes, carrots, gravy and a piece of bread. I was incredulous! Maybe we should have sent him away on his own years ago.
"And you ate everything?!"
"He ate almost everything on his plate!" Neva was excited for him.
"So Milo, you ate turkey?"
"No," came the reply, in an excited tone that was almost begging me to go on.
"Did you eat potatoes?"
"No."
"What about the carrots?"
"No, but the gravy was awesome!!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
This past weekend, Bob and I sent the kids to my mother's cottage to spend Thanksgiving there while we got away for a much needed break. Although we've each had overnights away from the kids, it was the first time we'd been away together without them. And as I suspected, they were so well occupied by all their aunts, uncles and cousins, they really didn't miss us much at all!
On the drive back home, we caught up on their weekend, which they praised as they best time of their lives. They went on a long hike, they played cards, they went fishing, they stayed up really late. And they had Thanksgiving dinner.
"And Mommy," Neva told me, "Milo ate almost everything on his plate!"
I had my doubts, knowing my veg-a-phobic son who also refuses pork and poultry. Time to dig a little deeper. "So, what exactly was on your plate?"
"The teenagers served him," Neva continued to speak for Milo. They had given him turkey, potatoes, carrots, gravy and a piece of bread. I was incredulous! Maybe we should have sent him away on his own years ago.
"And you ate everything?!"
"He ate almost everything on his plate!" Neva was excited for him.
"So Milo, you ate turkey?"
"No," came the reply, in an excited tone that was almost begging me to go on.
"Did you eat potatoes?"
"No."
"What about the carrots?"
"No, but the gravy was awesome!!"
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Parenting Paradox …
I find myself struggling with something I never thought would be an issue. The thing I want most for my children is self-confidence. We are always giving our children positive attention for jobs well done, from the first smile to the first step, the first stick figure to the first bike ride without training wheels. They are rewarded with smiles, hugs, encouraging words and, yes, sometimes even chocolate!
So why is it that my 9-year-old can complete a near-perfect math test but the next day be frazzled by the very same homework? Why is it that she doesn't believe she is capable? Have I not praised her enough? Have I praised her so much that she is unable to trust her abilities without encouragement? Perhaps I have not taught her to look within and see it for herself.
It's a frustrating paradox that something so positive can backfire and become a negative; that some children must always seek the approving nod of their peers or parents before believing in themselves.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
So why is it that my 9-year-old can complete a near-perfect math test but the next day be frazzled by the very same homework? Why is it that she doesn't believe she is capable? Have I not praised her enough? Have I praised her so much that she is unable to trust her abilities without encouragement? Perhaps I have not taught her to look within and see it for herself.
It's a frustrating paradox that something so positive can backfire and become a negative; that some children must always seek the approving nod of their peers or parents before believing in themselves.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
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