Thanks for nuthin TLC

TLC network once had this helpful commercial that informed the public that merlot and email do not mix. Did it once say anything about red wine and sewing machines? No, it did not. Why do I always have to learn things the hard way?

We are only part way into the month of July and already my older two kids are fighting incessantly.....over stupid things like who learned to tie their shoes the youngest and how this "prodigious" behaviour somehow entitles them to a higher plane of intelligence. While this heated debate was going on, my now 3 year old was sitting between them looking at one, then the other and singing "NaNa Na Na NaNa.....you are stupid....." When I prayed for patience, I didn't mean that I wanted the virtue beaten into me. It's going to be a long long summer.

A royal birthday

A letter to my daughter, Princess of things Crocodilian,

It was hard coming up with a cake befitting a person of your status. Not being briefed in royal etiquette, I was unsure if such a cake would be appropriate or sufficient. I appreciate the show of excitement that you displayed upon presentation of the cake and so I will assume that it was up to par. I do apologize again for my attempts at getting you into some sort of conventional clothing for your party and appreciate the time that you took in explaining that Crocodile Princesses wear pajamas to parties and not pretty dresses. I had been previously unaware of this fact and consider myself so much more enlightened now. Perhaps I will spend some time in the local library, learning the protocol and social nuances associated with royalty such as yourself.

Happy 3rd Birthday my girl! Your unique perspective on life has kept us highly entertained and I am truly looking forward to watching you develop into the awesome little girl you are becoming.

Love Mom

-PS If you are the Crocodile Princess, does that make me Queen?

*I have absolutely no idea where she came up with the Lexi, Crocodile Princess moniker. She began addressing herself as such out of the blue one day while we were in China and it has stuck ever since.

Not quite a man but quickly leaving boyhood behind! Happy 12th birthday buddy.

If I could look through a window into the past, one of my first and least obvious choices would be a balmy July night exactly 12 years ago. I stood surrounded by friends in the waning light of the day. The night air was filled with the sounds of skateboards grinding against concrete and excited cheers when a difficult trick was landed. I stood off to the side, in the dim light offered by a nearby building. A game of hacky sac was going on and I although I made a half hearted attempt to join in, my thoughts grew increasingly inward. Between the growing pain in my back and side and the burgeoning intuition of a new mom, I knew that this would be the last night of it's kind. The last few moments of a carefree existance where I could be secure in the knowledge that I knew everything and was on top of it all. Wow, do things change!

Just like dad.....sorta

Same pig....different day

I find them all over the house. Names and phone numbers scrawled hastily in a variety of colours on scrap pieces of paper. Sometimes there is corresponding information but more often than not, it's just a name. Every time I get a call from a person claiming that they can "heal" my daughter I feel compelled tor write their name down. Sometimes I even take them on a merry hunt throughout my house while I attempt to track down a pen that can actually get the job done, carrying on a running dialogue as we go on the quest together, just so that they know I'm sincerely looking for some sort of writing utensil. The strange part is, for most of these people, I know that I will never pick up the phone to call them. It's not that I don't believe in alternative healing methods....although to be honest, I really can't see how "plunking some numbers into Tatyanna's energy fields" is going to somehow miraculously make her better, it's because every other parent with a Batten's child has gone down this road before. They have all grasped desperately at what ever hope is available, spent thousands of dollars on miracle herbs and taken their kids for Reiki and ionic footbaths and they just don't work. Despite this, I do appreciate the effort it took for these people to pick up the phone and make the call. Particularly since I have yet to hear from people I once considered to be friends. Most of them seem genuinely concerned and really believe that their products/treatment will work. I can appreciate this and so, I take the time to write their phone number down, as if in some unspoken way this makes my gratitude more real, more tangible. There's also a part of me that believes that they will somehow know that I'm not actually writing the phone number despite my claims to the positive and all sorts of unpleasantness will then ensue.
The only real problem with this practice is, I'm left with remnants of paper around the house and have no idea if the number is something important or something that is safe to toss in the recycling bin.