Chandra Clarke

Offering Light and Laughter Wherever I Can

Child’s Play

By 2 Comments

My living room on any given day. Image credit: Pixabay

They say you learn a lot about life, and yourself, when you become a parent. As the mother of four children, I can safely say that’s very true. I have learned many things over the past several years, and I’d like to share them with anyone out there who is contemplating becoming a parent.

Clothes: Pregnancy books and magazines make a big (ha!) production over maternity clothes. The idea is that you need a special (read: expensive) wardrobe to help you stay fashionable as you expand. This is nonsense. The time you really need a special wardrobe is *after* giving birth, to help you deal with spit-up, spilled milk and diapers. Think Teflon-coated. Think Scotchguarded. Think, yes, biohazard suit.

Diapers: If you’re not feeding them, you’re burping them, and if you’re not burping them, you’re changing a diaper. Non-parents often think that parents exaggerate ‘the diaper thing’ but just do the math: change a baby approximately every two hours, 24 hours a day, for an average of 10 diapers a day. Seven days a week, for six months… jumpin’ Jehosephat! That’s 1800 diapers already! Save yourself a ton of money and the local landfill a ton of space, and buy reusable cloth diapers. Washing diapers is no more icky than changing them and you’ll need the money you save to buy…

Ankle bandages: No matter how young they are, no matter how many times you tidy up in a day, there will be toys on the floor. And you will step on them. In an effort not to crush them and/or avoid severe plastic pokey bit perforation of your foot, you will twist one way or the other and thus wrench your ankle.

Arm strength: While pregnant, it’s a good idea to work on your upper body strength, particularly arm muscle tone. This is because you will have to lift your child no less than 347 times per day. You need to be prepared for both this, and the fact that your child is gaining weight at a rate well beyond what any fitness trainer would set for your Nautilus machine. You will also have to do at least 299 of your child lifts in the wee hours of the morning while half-asleep.

Arm strength 2: Figure on also having to carry at least 30 pounds of baby gear wherever you go. Children do not travel lightly, and at any given time you will need to have on your person: wipes, diapers, formula/milk, rattles, cereal, change pad, baby biscuits, eight changes of clothes (for you), changing pad, 10 changes of clothes (for the baby), more diapers, and toys.

Sleep deprivation: The pregnancy books all talk about preparing yourself for something called “sleep deprivation.” This term is deceiving — it makes it sound like you’re going to be a bit groggy every morning. Figure on not getting ANY sleep for the next, say, 20 years or so.

Strong stomach: If you’re the type that gets queasy easily, do not have children. Either that or prepare yourself for the sight (and feel) of pureed peas sneezed over a five metre radius.

Repetition: At all costs, stay away from electronic toys. This is not because the old toys are intrinsically better than the new toys. It’s because the electronic toys are not yet Internet-enabled and thus play only two tunes. Two. You will go mad listening to these same two tunes all day.

Weight loss: Getting back into shape after being pregnant is easy. Getting back into shape after being pregnant if you’re looking after a child, which, yes, goes kind of hand in hand with having been pregnant, is a whole ‘nother matter. This is because you will have sleepless nights and constant demands on your time during the day, and you won’t even have time for a sit-up, much less those Body Bounce classes you were taking last year. Also: it is one of life’s great cruelties that housework does not burn many calories.

Smiles and giggles: If you like this sort of thing, then parenthood is definitely for you. Children give them out freely, and it’s what makes it all so very worth while.

Even the sneezed peas.

 

 

Childhood Defined

By Leave a Comment

Image credit: Pixabay

It’s tough being a parent in the 21st century. Not because there aren’t any places to go for advice on important issues – just the opposite, in fact. There must be hundreds of childrearing books out there, a couple dozen parenting magazines, and umpteen web sites.

Naturally, they all give conflicting advice; worse, some of them give advice without explaining it. For example, one source says it’s bad to give your child raw carrots under the age of three, with no reason given. You’re left to wonder if A) It’s because they could be a choking hazard, and if so, why only carrots and not, say, raw broccoli? B) Whether mature carrots — those three years or older — would be acceptable or C) Carrots are verboten simply because too many parents of the previous generation were driven mad by their youngster posing with a carrot all day and repeatedly saying “Ehhhhhhh, what’s up doc?”

Anyway, after spending many hours navigating the parenting media (okay so really it was only five minutes; I’m a parent and that’s all I had to spare) I’ve come up with a list of terms that might help you find your way too. Good luck!

DVD: For the modern parent with kids to entertain, a unit of time. Example: “Hi Joan, I’d love to talk but I’ve only got half a DVD left to finish the laundry.”

Debris field: The area around your child that contains half chewed biscuits, dumped bottles, water, toys, socks, juice etc. The size of the debris field grows exponentially every month, until it eventually takes in your entire house and backyard. And possibly the neighbour yards as well.

Bib: Theoretically, something your child wears to protect clothing. Realistically, it’s a spot to print cute phrases like “Daddy’s Number One Fan.” Given that children smear food into their hair, their ears, along the table, and on you, the small area of protection afforded by the bib is laughable, really.

Toys: Expensive items that parents are encouraged to buy in great quantities to educate their children. Children do learn from toys; indeed, when a parent steps on one, they learn all sorts of new words.

Soother: Also known as a dummy or a pacifier, it is designed to be something that babies suck on for comfort. Unfortunately this design also makes for a sleek, aerodynamic profile which allows even the youngest arm to throw it up to 10 feet away. The amount of dirt that clings to it is inversely proportional to the proximity of a sink for washing it.

Sleeper: A type of clothing that very young children are supposed to sleep in. Children don’t actually sleep, however, until they’re old enough to fit into regular pajamas.

Crawl: A form of motion that your baby will try to do hundreds of times without success. Anxious parents who want to encourage their baby’s development should simply look away for five seconds. Baby will suddenly be able to crawl at speeds approaching 50 kph.

Emergency Trip: At least once per year, all children are required to look ill enough to require an emergency trip to the doctor or hospital, at which time they miraculously recover about two minutes before being seen by medical staff. This is nature’s way of stimulating the onset of grey hair. See also: 2 a.m., weekends.

First word: A child’s first word will not be what you’ve tried to get him/her to say for a week. It will be something that you didn’t realize you were saying like: frackingcomputer! or stupididiotneighbour!

Kitchen sink: The one item you will not have to pack to take your young children across the street.

Childproof: A mythical state of being. To date, nothing has been conclusively proven to be childproof. However, many such items that claim to be are very adult proof.

Pthththtb: The rude raspberry noise that is one of the first sounds a baby learns how to make. This says more about the human condition than I ever could.

And a One and a Two…

By 1 Comment

Image Credit: Pixabay

Several of my pregnancy advice books assured me that getting back into shape afterward would be fun and easy. Baby, they said, would either be napping or happy to watch your routine. Even better, baby might want to participate, allowing for many lovely mother and child bonding moments.

Unfortunately, none of the guide books ever discussed how to work out with a baby around. So this week, I present Chandra’s Guide to Fitness While Raising Children:

Wake up bright and early in the morning. Have a cup of coffee to wake up and get that metabolism going.

Stand in shower for fifteen minutes wondering why you’re not getting clean and realize it’s because you’ve not turned on the water.

Have another cup of coffee. Have vague recollection of being awakened eight or nine times overnight for feedings.

Prepare workout area by laying out mat, hand weights etc.

Begin workout by accidentally stepping on Lego brick. Continue with four minutes of hopping up and down, yelping in pain.

Retrieve baby from crib, now that he’s awake. Quickly feed him breakfast before he realizes it may have been as much as an hour since he last ate.

Bring baby and playpen into bathroom and spend fifteen minutes in the shower removing the oatmeal from your hair.

Slip into something loose-fitting and comfortable, for example, none of the clothes you could fit into before you got pregnant.

Bring baby and playpen into living room and get into position for your workout. Start with a sit-up.

Pause to burp baby. Change clothes so you don’t get spit-up all over your workout mat.

Return to workout area. Attempt a warm-up stretch.

Stop to retrieve all the toys that have been fired out of the playpen. Spend fifteen minutes figuring out how to get Bear Bear out of the lampshade without damaging it.

Go back to the workout area. Try a push-up.

Wake up with a start when Bear Bear bounces off your head. Crawl to the coffee pot for another hit.

Feed junior his mid-morning snack. Burp him and pat him off to sleep.

Tiptoe back to your workout area. Catch sight of the kitchen. Curse as you realize you have company coming in the evening. Spend fifteen minutes tidying up.

Go back to the mat. Pause to answer the phone. Spend five minutes explaining to the caller that no, you don’t have an account with Zippity Wireless, and yes, you’re sure your name isn’t Gary Kowarski.

Go and get baby, who woke up when the phone rang. Say something very rude about Zippity Wireless and then explain to baby that really, you shouldn’t use words like that.

Remove baby’s wet diaper. Realize you forgot to throw the washed diapers in the dryer last night. Get them started and lay baby out on a large towel on the linoleum and hand him a few toys.

Answer the door to accept a package. Try not to say rude words to deliveryman who provides impromptu lecture on proper childcare after spotting baby on the towel.

Successfully complete five sit-ups. Lay there for several minutes, exhausted, wondering if childbirth wasn’t easier. Decide it most definitely was not.

Slither over to coffee pot. Discover it’s empty. Resort to chewing the grounds.

Mop up around the baby. Retrieve dry diapers, put one on him, and feed him lunch.

Answer the door. Have chat with annoying skinny neighbour who keeps asking when she’ll see you out for a brisk morning power walk.

Close door and mutter about your neighbour. Explain to baby he shouldn’t use any of those words you just said either.

Bring baby over to workout mat. Lay down, raise baby above head for a few arm lifts. Enjoy the giggles and repeat a few times.

Stop to clean up the spit up.

Attempt to do a few sit-ups while holding baby for that extra challenge.

When your back muscle stops twanging, drag self to phone and put in call to husband to arrange car ride to chiropractor.

Shove workout equipment into closet. Consider taking it out again when junior is in school.

 

I, Roomba

By 2 Comments

For the past couple of years now, I’ve been saving two-dollar coins, carefully tucking them away in a wee piggy bank instead of using them to buy my weekly cafe mocha at Tim Horton’s. Those of you familiar with Tim Horton’s coffee know the extent of my sacrifice. For those of you who aren’t, think of your favourite caffeinated beverage and imagine what it would be like if it were ten times tastier. Think whipped cream. Think chocolate sprinkles. Right, now you all understand my pain.

I was saving for something that I figured I couldn’t justify as a household budget expense, but that I really wanted. And last week, I finally had enough to buy it.

A robot.

Not one of those Robosapiens, or the cute little Aibo, and sadly, not the big Asimo of the Honda commercials. Nevertheless, something very cool: A robot vacuum.

There, I’ve admitted it. I am a geek. Other people save up for new bikes, or big screen TVs. For me, this was like having a Ferrari show up at my door. Better, actually, because a Ferrari would have screamed “mid-life crisis!” to the neighbours. The only statement my robotic vacuum makes to the neighbours is that I have a cleaning crisis. Okay, it says that I’m a geek with a cleaning crisis.

You see, nature may abhor a vacuum, but I’m rather partial to clean floors. I also have kids. This means that A) It’s impossible to keep the floor clean — the Cheerios dispersion rate alone defies measurement; and B) The floor must be kept clean, because toddlers don’t differentiate between dropped Cheerios, marbles, onion skins, grocery lists, or dirt tracked in from the garden. Combine this with the fact that children have this rather inconsiderate habit of requiring food, diaper changes, and lots of playtime while you’re trying to do frivolous things like run a business … well, you’ve all been there. Or you are there, and really want to leave.

Dreaming of my robotic vacuum cleaner has kept me going through many a midnight tidy-up session. Much like my washing machine means I don’t have to take the clothes down to the river and pound them with a rock, I looked forward to a time when the vacuum canister wasn’t getting caught in door jambs, smashing into the back of my ankles, or falling down the stairs. Right, so maybe what I should have purchased was the book Vacuuming for Dummies.

Never mind. What’s important is that it arrived last week. A circular machine about the size of a large pizza, it’s not a very bright little ‘bot. It starts in the centre of the room and works its way out, gently bumping into things and turning away – just like me first thing in the morning before I’ve had my coffee. If it strays too close to the stairs, little sensors warn it of impending danger and it backs away – sadly, not just like me in the morning. Prior to my coffee, all *my* sensors do is throw an “ILLEGAL OPERATION: WINDOWS WILL REBOOT NOW” error and down the stairs I go.

When it comes to dirt though, this little robot is an Einstein. Around and around it goes, sucking up crushed Doritos, crayon crumbs, and the large handful of pine needles my smallest son thought was fascinating until they poked his palm. It hoovers up the dog hair left by our last canine visitor, and it attacks our doormat again and again. Did you know our mat actually says WELCOME and not WE C M ?

I must confess my productivity hasn’t increased yet — I’m too busy following the thing around the house, cheering it on as it successfully clambers over the extension cord strip and scoots under my bed to suck up things that neither broom nor regular vacuum have been able to touch. I’m so enthused, I have seriously considered making it a bumper sticker that says: DUSTBUNNIES FEAR ME.

Once the novelty wears off though, I’ll be able to do any number of things while it cleans the floors. I can spend more time with my kids. I might have a shot at finding my kitchen sink under all those dishes. I might even be able to file my column more than a few hours before deadline.

Well, maybe not. It’s not a miracle technology, after all.

Image by Eduard Reisenhauer from Pixabay