“5:15 am," I answered groggily.
"Well," he teased, “since you’re both awake..."
I immediately let out some dramatic snoring sounds and Willa repeated, "Sleeping noise. Sleeping noise. Sleeping noise."
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, April 03, 2014
Snores-Ville
A feverish Willa crawled into our bed in the wee hours last night. After a
restless, sleepless hour for Willa and me, Bob awoke and asked what time it
was.
“5:15 am," I answered groggily.
"Well," he teased, “since you’re both awake..."
I immediately let out some dramatic snoring sounds and Willa repeated, "Sleeping noise. Sleeping noise. Sleeping noise."
Happy Sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
“5:15 am," I answered groggily.
"Well," he teased, “since you’re both awake..."
I immediately let out some dramatic snoring sounds and Willa repeated, "Sleeping noise. Sleeping noise. Sleeping noise."
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Friday, March 28, 2014
Bonne Nuit
It’s happened to everyone: you’re lying in bed and a list of things you
need for the morning starts running through your head. Most of us just get up,
quickly jot down the list, and go back to bed unencumbered by pesky and
potentially panic-inducing details. When you’re only 11, however, you don’t
necessarily think of making that list. Nor does the list of things come all at
once. Cue: sleepless night for Mom.
Milo’s class organized a Cafe afternoon with their French teacher to put
their current unit into practice. Each student was responsible for bringing in a
food item, either juice or water or small baked goods, like one would find at a
cafe. Then as a class they created a menu and common phrases they would need to
serve customers. An invitation was sent to parents to attend their French Cafe
after lunch. It was quite lovely: the desks were arranged in groups and set with
table cloths and fake candles, students wore aprons and berets, dress shirts and
ties, and French music (think Edith Piaf) played in the background. The night
before all this, however, was not quite so quaint.
About 45 minutes after Milo went to bed he knocked on our door. “Mom, do
you know where my tie is?” Yes, Milo, it should be in your closet. Go back to
bed.
The second knock came about 30 minutes later. “Mom, I need my good shirt.
Do you know where it is?” Yes, Milo, it’ll be in the closet with your tie. Now
go to sleep!
The last straw – I mean, the third knock woke me at 11:30 pm. “Mom, did you
make the muffins?” No, remember you said I could bring them in at lunch, so I’ll
make them in the morning. “But, no! I need to bring them with me in the
morning!”
So up I got, mixed up a double batch of banana oat muffins and set my alarm
for 6:30 am to bake them. All while Milo slept soundly, his pesky list all
safely jotted down in my head.
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
An Einstein Moment?
I remember hearing a story about Albert Einstein being so absent-minded that his wife would have to wait for him when he walked home from work. She would watch him approach the house then, apparently, forget where he was going and turn around and head back to work. It is this type of story that gives us hope, as parents, that our children will not struggle forever.
Sometimes our children are brilliant beyond their years. Ask 11-year-old Milo about Quantum Physics and he’ll grab a few props to demonstrate time-bending. He can name all the US States and their capitals (and we’re Canadian!) and can rhyme off all sorts of stats like nobody’s business. But ask him to go put socks on, and you will wait a very long time only for him to return with a book. And bare feet.
The other day Milo went into the freezer for ice cubes. He took out the full tray and struggled to get the ice out. “Ugh! These are all frozen!” he groaned in frustration as he returned it to the freezer.
Happy Sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Sometimes our children are brilliant beyond their years. Ask 11-year-old Milo about Quantum Physics and he’ll grab a few props to demonstrate time-bending. He can name all the US States and their capitals (and we’re Canadian!) and can rhyme off all sorts of stats like nobody’s business. But ask him to go put socks on, and you will wait a very long time only for him to return with a book. And bare feet.
The other day Milo went into the freezer for ice cubes. He took out the full tray and struggled to get the ice out. “Ugh! These are all frozen!” he groaned in frustration as he returned it to the freezer.
Happy Sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
March Break
Well, we survived March Break here at
ContestHound. Because we are a home-run business, we had our three lovelies home
with us for the entire week. We certainly didn’t get as much work done during
the week as we normally would, but we’ve never really had too much problem
keeping them entertained. Mostly because they’ve always been good at
entertaining themselves.
So what did our kids do during their 10 long days? Besides our regular karate and mom-torturing kick boxing classes, there were visits with friends, a trip to the toy store, hours spent texting and face-timing, and the mandatory outside play that I enforced every day. Milo also spent three nights with a good friend at a cottage on Lake Huron, which was unquestionably the best part for him.
The best part for me, however, was Milo and Willa “camping out” in the living room for the first half of the week. Willa had a friend stay the night the first weekend of the break and, instead of putting the sleeping bags away (or perhaps to get out of that chore), she asked if she and Milo could have a sleepover too. I thought this was pretty sweet: I’ve always loved that these two play so well together (when they’re not fighting, of course) and I rarely object or interrupt when I witness it. I’m surprised and thankful that, at 11-1/2 and 10 years old, they’re still such good friends and include each other. Apparently Milo was thinking the same thing. "We should do this every night for March Break, Willa. ‘Cause when I’m 12, I probably won’t want to anymore."
Although I didn’t sense any disappointment or hurt feelings from Willa, I decided to camp out with her while Milo was away. Because, just as you hit an age to be too old for something, you will hit another age where you’re never too old for it!
Happy Sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
So what did our kids do during their 10 long days? Besides our regular karate and mom-torturing kick boxing classes, there were visits with friends, a trip to the toy store, hours spent texting and face-timing, and the mandatory outside play that I enforced every day. Milo also spent three nights with a good friend at a cottage on Lake Huron, which was unquestionably the best part for him.
The best part for me, however, was Milo and Willa “camping out” in the living room for the first half of the week. Willa had a friend stay the night the first weekend of the break and, instead of putting the sleeping bags away (or perhaps to get out of that chore), she asked if she and Milo could have a sleepover too. I thought this was pretty sweet: I’ve always loved that these two play so well together (when they’re not fighting, of course) and I rarely object or interrupt when I witness it. I’m surprised and thankful that, at 11-1/2 and 10 years old, they’re still such good friends and include each other. Apparently Milo was thinking the same thing. "We should do this every night for March Break, Willa. ‘Cause when I’m 12, I probably won’t want to anymore."
Although I didn’t sense any disappointment or hurt feelings from Willa, I decided to camp out with her while Milo was away. Because, just as you hit an age to be too old for something, you will hit another age where you’re never too old for it!
Happy Sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, March 04, 2014
A Mother's Love with a Boxer's Glove
Our kids have been taking karate lessons for about three years and the younger two have just earned their blue belts. This means they are about a year and half from earning a Junior Black Belt. Milo has embraced each advancement with the same commitment he gives any sport. Willa, on the other hand, became increasingly nervous as she approached this new belt, despite her obvious talent for the martial arts.
The dojo where our kids practise offers mixed classes every day of the week, so one day you might be the highest belt in the class and the next you will be the lowest rank. In each class, the lower belts are encouraged to keep up with the highest belt level in that particular class. Now that they have reached blue belt, Milo and Willa will always be the lower ranked students and, therefore, will need to keep up with the junior black belts. They’re not expected to perform at that level, certainly, but the core drills are tougher and this is done deliberately, to gradually prepare the lower belts for the endurance training required for black belt. And this is where Willa’s anxiety ratchets up: she feels intimidated by the power and keen focus demonstrated by these older kids. And this, unfortunately, is where I get dragged in.
I have become more and more sedentary in my lifestyle over the last year or two and have the waistline to prove it. Not to mention the fact that I can’t seem to make it up to the office in the loft without become breathless. (That last flight of stairs is mercilessly/unnaturally/heartlessly steep!) I have been making honest but feeble efforts to be more healthy. But I am not a “go to the gym” person and have learned that I need to go with a friend if I’m going to get anything out a fitness class. I discovered this after I took a 10 week boot camp with a few friends and had a blast, but barely enjoyed my trial month in kick boxing class at the dojo. Oh, did I mention the dojo also offers kick boxing classes? Yes, not only does it offer kick boxing classes, but I sit listening to them while I wait for my kids in their karate classes. And, yes, I have been doing this for about three years. I have also known for half that time that parents of karate students can join kick boxing classes for half price.
Now, before you start filling my inbox with “what the heck have you been waiting for?!” emails, let it be known that last night I signed up for kick boxing – a six month commitment even! And I did it, in part, for Willa. When she was expressing her anxiety about her new classes being “too hard”, I asked if it would help if I were to do kick boxing while she was doing karate. That way we could face the challenge together. When her face lit up I knew I was sunk – I mean, sold. I was sold! Because we do things for our kids, that somehow end up being equally as beneficial for ourselves.
So yesterday as I was anxiously getting my gear together I told the kids they needed to bring something to keep them occupied for the half hour while they waited for my class to end. Milo grabbed his iPod and Willa told me, “Oh, I have something to keep me amused. I’m gonna watch you!”
As I sit here, neck muscles tight as a rod, abs whining and quads screaming, I think I may have gotten the fuzzy end of the lollipop on this deal.
The dojo where our kids practise offers mixed classes every day of the week, so one day you might be the highest belt in the class and the next you will be the lowest rank. In each class, the lower belts are encouraged to keep up with the highest belt level in that particular class. Now that they have reached blue belt, Milo and Willa will always be the lower ranked students and, therefore, will need to keep up with the junior black belts. They’re not expected to perform at that level, certainly, but the core drills are tougher and this is done deliberately, to gradually prepare the lower belts for the endurance training required for black belt. And this is where Willa’s anxiety ratchets up: she feels intimidated by the power and keen focus demonstrated by these older kids. And this, unfortunately, is where I get dragged in.
I have become more and more sedentary in my lifestyle over the last year or two and have the waistline to prove it. Not to mention the fact that I can’t seem to make it up to the office in the loft without become breathless. (That last flight of stairs is mercilessly/unnaturally/heartlessly steep!) I have been making honest but feeble efforts to be more healthy. But I am not a “go to the gym” person and have learned that I need to go with a friend if I’m going to get anything out a fitness class. I discovered this after I took a 10 week boot camp with a few friends and had a blast, but barely enjoyed my trial month in kick boxing class at the dojo. Oh, did I mention the dojo also offers kick boxing classes? Yes, not only does it offer kick boxing classes, but I sit listening to them while I wait for my kids in their karate classes. And, yes, I have been doing this for about three years. I have also known for half that time that parents of karate students can join kick boxing classes for half price.
Now, before you start filling my inbox with “what the heck have you been waiting for?!” emails, let it be known that last night I signed up for kick boxing – a six month commitment even! And I did it, in part, for Willa. When she was expressing her anxiety about her new classes being “too hard”, I asked if it would help if I were to do kick boxing while she was doing karate. That way we could face the challenge together. When her face lit up I knew I was sunk – I mean, sold. I was sold! Because we do things for our kids, that somehow end up being equally as beneficial for ourselves.
So yesterday as I was anxiously getting my gear together I told the kids they needed to bring something to keep them occupied for the half hour while they waited for my class to end. Milo grabbed his iPod and Willa told me, “Oh, I have something to keep me amused. I’m gonna watch you!”
As I sit here, neck muscles tight as a rod, abs whining and quads screaming, I think I may have gotten the fuzzy end of the lollipop on this deal.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Smiles, Glorious Smiles
It’s time again for a musical production
at the kids’ elementary school. This year they’re putting on “Oliver!” and both
Milo and Willa are participating. Willa, who’s in Gr. 4, is in the ensemble
dance numbers but because Milo is in Gr. 6, he had the option of having a
speaking part. Because the school is small, no auditions are held – students
only had to sign up for the part they wanted. So Milo will be one of two
narrators.
Rehearsals have gone into full swing now, one week before the show. And today a photographer was in after lunch to take head shots of the lead roles. I am at the school every day to do lunch hour supervision so when I brought the students down to the gym for photos, I enjoyed watching some of the kids posing for the camera.
The first few girls I watched looked only vaguely uncomfortable taking directions from the photographer. Certainly Willa would have been more than happy to strike a pose had she been there! But as I looked at the group of kids waiting their turn, horsing around and being silly, I wondered how that photographer was going to get all those 11- and 12-year-old boys to do anything but “awkward” for the camera. I can’t remember the last time Milo didn’t make a goofy face in a picture. So I left the gym, unable to handle the pressure of watching my kid – wonderful and beautiful as he is – pull one of his beaming but forced ear-to-ear, bug-eyed grins. And I will have to consider bringing an extra 5x7 glossy of one of his less crazy faces when I go to the show next week. Just in case a replacement photo is needed!
Happy Sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Rehearsals have gone into full swing now, one week before the show. And today a photographer was in after lunch to take head shots of the lead roles. I am at the school every day to do lunch hour supervision so when I brought the students down to the gym for photos, I enjoyed watching some of the kids posing for the camera.
The first few girls I watched looked only vaguely uncomfortable taking directions from the photographer. Certainly Willa would have been more than happy to strike a pose had she been there! But as I looked at the group of kids waiting their turn, horsing around and being silly, I wondered how that photographer was going to get all those 11- and 12-year-old boys to do anything but “awkward” for the camera. I can’t remember the last time Milo didn’t make a goofy face in a picture. So I left the gym, unable to handle the pressure of watching my kid – wonderful and beautiful as he is – pull one of his beaming but forced ear-to-ear, bug-eyed grins. And I will have to consider bringing an extra 5x7 glossy of one of his less crazy faces when I go to the show next week. Just in case a replacement photo is needed!
Happy Sweeping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, February 20, 2014
One Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest
The flu has hit
the Gunther family. We're not quarantined certainly and nobody's confined to bed
rest or subsisting on NeoCitran and Tylenol. Thankfully (I think) it seems to be
getting us only one at a time, first with a day of "blah" followed by a day or
two of fever, sore throat, headache and coughing, then several days of hacking
up a lung.
We certainly learn a lot about one's character when one is sick, though, don't we? No, not moral character, but that of physical fortitude. Milo was the first to be hit but he suffers so quietly and solitarily, I didn't even know he had a sore throat until he told me that's why he hadn't been eating. For two days! Good thing too, I guess, since he's the kid who refuses anything that is outside his rather limited repertoire of acceptable edibles, even if it might make him feel better. Not even good old fashioned chicken soup.
Willa, on the other hand, began complaining about not feeling well on the first day of feeling "blah". She is somewhat more needy than her brother and certainly is more vocal about how miserable she is feeling. I don't blame her, of course. Nobody enjoys being sick. Even when you're 10 years old and it means missing school, getting out of chores and staying in bed with books and your iPod all day.
Neva, the oldest, hasn't come down with anything - and hopefully won't.But I know that she's like her sister and
requires more attention.
What I've noticed, however, is no matter how different each kid's need for comfort is during the day, it's a level playing field when the lights go out. Each one wants my company at bed time. Whether it's to hold a cool cloth to their forehead, or to lie down with them or to simply "stay here a little", they just want Mom. I might fuss and complain about how little work I get done during the day with all the extra requests and interruptions, but night time is different. I feel I need to be with them as much as they need me. So I’ll be there. And I will be there when they're 20 years old and still just need a little TLC.
I just hope by then Milo will finally eat some chicken soup!
Happy Comping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
We certainly learn a lot about one's character when one is sick, though, don't we? No, not moral character, but that of physical fortitude. Milo was the first to be hit but he suffers so quietly and solitarily, I didn't even know he had a sore throat until he told me that's why he hadn't been eating. For two days! Good thing too, I guess, since he's the kid who refuses anything that is outside his rather limited repertoire of acceptable edibles, even if it might make him feel better. Not even good old fashioned chicken soup.
Willa, on the other hand, began complaining about not feeling well on the first day of feeling "blah". She is somewhat more needy than her brother and certainly is more vocal about how miserable she is feeling. I don't blame her, of course. Nobody enjoys being sick. Even when you're 10 years old and it means missing school, getting out of chores and staying in bed with books and your iPod all day.
Neva, the oldest, hasn't come down with anything - and hopefully won't.
What I've noticed, however, is no matter how different each kid's need for comfort is during the day, it's a level playing field when the lights go out. Each one wants my company at bed time. Whether it's to hold a cool cloth to their forehead, or to lie down with them or to simply "stay here a little", they just want Mom. I might fuss and complain about how little work I get done during the day with all the extra requests and interruptions, but night time is different. I feel I need to be with them as much as they need me. So I’ll be there. And I will be there when they're 20 years old and still just need a little TLC.
I just hope by then Milo will finally eat some chicken soup!
Happy Comping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Canada: Land of Snow and Ice and Bribes
I might not be
the kind of Canadian that plays hockey or spends weekends snowmobiling or
skiing, but I am a true Canadian who loves the beauty of the snow and,
occasionally, loves to play in it. Not always, however, in particular after I've
had a tiring day. Unless the stakes are high enough apparently...
Last night on the drive back from karate, almost-10-year-old Willa asked if I would play outside with her when we got home. Although I knew I would likely enjoy myself, I had had a busy day and I still had things to do before I was done.
"Maybe Milo will play with you," I suggested, looking to her older brother beside her in the backseat.
"No," he responded, "when I get home I have to practise my clarinet."
Knowing exactly how to work this to her advantage, Willa said: "See Mom? Now you'll really want to come outside with me!"
Happy Comping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Last night on the drive back from karate, almost-10-year-old Willa asked if I would play outside with her when we got home. Although I knew I would likely enjoy myself, I had had a busy day and I still had things to do before I was done.
"Maybe Milo will play with you," I suggested, looking to her older brother beside her in the backseat.
"No," he responded, "when I get home I have to practise my clarinet."
Knowing exactly how to work this to her advantage, Willa said: "See Mom? Now you'll really want to come outside with me!"
Happy Comping,
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Mabel
As the youngest of nine children, I was
often accused of being the "spoiled baby" of the family. I have never understood
why my siblings would take it out on me, though, since I had nothing to do with
either being the last born or having (alleged) extra attention paid to me.
Whatever their reasons, I think I now understand why parents might dote on their youngest more than the others. It's not because the baby is smarter or better looking than the older sibs (well, that may have been the case in my family, but anyway...) It's because getting older means life gets more complicated. And so too does the teen or young adult going through those awkward stages. We parents are simply trying to cling to the innocence of the younger years. Let's face it: while it might be sweet to hear your 4-year-old tell you about all the boys who kissed her at recess, it's not cute anymore when it's your 14-year-old telling you the same thing. And the schoolyard problems of the 8-year-old have far fewer long-lasting consequences than the teen whose highschool is in the downtown core and across the street from a methadone clinic.
I now have one kid fully entrenched in the drama and hardships of adolescence and another banging on its door. So it is understandable that I might indulge my not quite 10 year old and her childhood whims. "Mom, will you colour with me?" Absolutely! Break out the crayons. "Can you build a snowman with me?" Let me get my boots on. "Mom will you lie down with me when you tuck me in tonight?" I would love to, the laundry can wait. "Mom, will you watch 'Dog With a Blog' with me?" Okay, so maybe not all her whims.
Anyway, before she left for school this morning, Willa didn't ask but told me I had to look after Mabel. Is Mabel her sick guinea pig or pet goldfish, you ask? No, she is one of Willa's many baby dolls. Not just any baby doll, Mabel is the one that Willa fell in love with the moment her sensor-embedded bottom touched her sensor-receptive potty and made a tinkling sound. Bob and I have been charged with Mabel's care before and since she is an exceptionally well-behaved baby doll, I agreed to look after her again today. And so I find myself with Mabel.
When Willa asks me to look after her baby, I don't just put it out of my mind until she walks through the door after school. Nope, this mom brings Mabel with her around the house to engage and stimulate her tiny mind. We read stories, do laundry, wash dishes, maybe have a playdate and occasionally get some work done at the computer. You may wonder if I actually accomplish anything on these days. Well, no, not much really... But I document what I've done with Mabel so Willa can have a good idea of how Mabel's day went. (All the best daycares do this, I'm told.) Besides, Willa loves to see the pictures of Mabel's day and I love to see the smile on Willa's face when she looks through them.
After all, if I am trying to hang on to the sweetness of my baby's childhood for as long as I can, what's the harm in indulging in it myself? I can't keep her from growing up and all too soon she won't be so eager to play with me. So I will revel in it while I can. I will colour with her, play hairdresser, make snow angels and drink hot chocolate with marshmallows. And if my kids can't stay young forever, I suppose I will always have Mabel!
You can check out Mabel's day here.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.ca
Whatever their reasons, I think I now understand why parents might dote on their youngest more than the others. It's not because the baby is smarter or better looking than the older sibs (well, that may have been the case in my family, but anyway...) It's because getting older means life gets more complicated. And so too does the teen or young adult going through those awkward stages. We parents are simply trying to cling to the innocence of the younger years. Let's face it: while it might be sweet to hear your 4-year-old tell you about all the boys who kissed her at recess, it's not cute anymore when it's your 14-year-old telling you the same thing. And the schoolyard problems of the 8-year-old have far fewer long-lasting consequences than the teen whose highschool is in the downtown core and across the street from a methadone clinic.
I now have one kid fully entrenched in the drama and hardships of adolescence and another banging on its door. So it is understandable that I might indulge my not quite 10 year old and her childhood whims. "Mom, will you colour with me?" Absolutely! Break out the crayons. "Can you build a snowman with me?" Let me get my boots on. "Mom will you lie down with me when you tuck me in tonight?" I would love to, the laundry can wait. "Mom, will you watch 'Dog With a Blog' with me?" Okay, so maybe not all her whims.
Anyway, before she left for school this morning, Willa didn't ask but told me I had to look after Mabel. Is Mabel her sick guinea pig or pet goldfish, you ask? No, she is one of Willa's many baby dolls. Not just any baby doll, Mabel is the one that Willa fell in love with the moment her sensor-embedded bottom touched her sensor-receptive potty and made a tinkling sound. Bob and I have been charged with Mabel's care before and since she is an exceptionally well-behaved baby doll, I agreed to look after her again today. And so I find myself with Mabel.
When Willa asks me to look after her baby, I don't just put it out of my mind until she walks through the door after school. Nope, this mom brings Mabel with her around the house to engage and stimulate her tiny mind. We read stories, do laundry, wash dishes, maybe have a playdate and occasionally get some work done at the computer. You may wonder if I actually accomplish anything on these days. Well, no, not much really... But I document what I've done with Mabel so Willa can have a good idea of how Mabel's day went. (All the best daycares do this, I'm told.) Besides, Willa loves to see the pictures of Mabel's day and I love to see the smile on Willa's face when she looks through them.
After all, if I am trying to hang on to the sweetness of my baby's childhood for as long as I can, what's the harm in indulging in it myself? I can't keep her from growing up and all too soon she won't be so eager to play with me. So I will revel in it while I can. I will colour with her, play hairdresser, make snow angels and drink hot chocolate with marshmallows. And if my kids can't stay young forever, I suppose I will always have Mabel!
You can check out Mabel's day here.
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.ca
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Benny (not-so)Goodman
Music runs deep through my family tree. My maternal grandfather was a violinist and I will always have wonderful memories of my grandmother, and later my uncles, my sisters or me, accompanying him on the piano, while everyone else in the room sang along. The talent carried through my family: each of the nine of us took piano lessons; several of my siblings taught themselves how to play the guitar; we have sung in choirs and for weddings, taught piano, performed in bands and school musicals and I did my undergraduate degree in Music.
How is it, then, that my children appear to have so little musical talent? Neva refused to practise when she took lessons years ago and Willa shows next to no interest in lessons at all. But let's look at 11-year-old Milo. The boy, as much as he loves to sing and dance, is completely tone deaf. So when he chose the clarinet as his instrument in music class last year, I was less than excited. He squeaked and squawked his way through Grade 5 and eagerly brought his clarinet home every other weekend. (I was always relieved when his interest in practising vanished as soon as he walked through the door.)
Fast forward now to Grade 6. He is a "role model" for the younger students in his split class and was asked to demonstrate, with another classmate, what he has learned in music so far. But he had to brush up over the holidays. So Milo arrived home that last day before Christmas with his clarinet and his music book. He immediately went to his room and began to play. And play he did - seemingly non-stop, for days leading up to Christmas. His excitement was admirable, even if it did frequently interrupt conversations. (As in, "Who wants to hear me play?" or, "Mom, Mom! Listen to this!") Not only did he practise the two songs he was assigned, he also moved forward in the book teaching himself new notes and new songs. And on occasion he managed to produce a lovely tone amid the cacophony.
Bob and I were quite pleased to see this enthusiasm for practice, given our previous experience. Those squeaks and squawks leading up to Christmas were his and he was proud of every one. And we were thrilled. We were even more thrilled, of course, when the excitement of Christmas arrived and he traded in clarinet practice for playing board games and visiting with family.
Ahh... Peace on Earth!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.ca
How is it, then, that my children appear to have so little musical talent? Neva refused to practise when she took lessons years ago and Willa shows next to no interest in lessons at all. But let's look at 11-year-old Milo. The boy, as much as he loves to sing and dance, is completely tone deaf. So when he chose the clarinet as his instrument in music class last year, I was less than excited. He squeaked and squawked his way through Grade 5 and eagerly brought his clarinet home every other weekend. (I was always relieved when his interest in practising vanished as soon as he walked through the door.)
Fast forward now to Grade 6. He is a "role model" for the younger students in his split class and was asked to demonstrate, with another classmate, what he has learned in music so far. But he had to brush up over the holidays. So Milo arrived home that last day before Christmas with his clarinet and his music book. He immediately went to his room and began to play. And play he did - seemingly non-stop, for days leading up to Christmas. His excitement was admirable, even if it did frequently interrupt conversations. (As in, "Who wants to hear me play?" or, "Mom, Mom! Listen to this!") Not only did he practise the two songs he was assigned, he also moved forward in the book teaching himself new notes and new songs. And on occasion he managed to produce a lovely tone amid the cacophony.
Bob and I were quite pleased to see this enthusiasm for practice, given our previous experience. Those squeaks and squawks leading up to Christmas were his and he was proud of every one. And we were thrilled. We were even more thrilled, of course, when the excitement of Christmas arrived and he traded in clarinet practice for playing board games and visiting with family.
Ahh... Peace on Earth!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.ca
Thursday, January 09, 2014
New Year's Reflections
This time of year is one of reflection and
hopefulness. We look back on the year that was, sometimes with pride and joy or
perhaps sadness or even relief that it's over. And we look forward to the year
that will be: full of promise, like starting that book you've been wanting to
read.
People often refer to the new year as a blank slate or book of blank pages waiting to be written by you. It's about turning over a new leaf and making resolutions to "be better", whether that means losing 30 lbs or quitting smoking or planning the perfect wedding. But a friend of mine described the coming year as "an incredibly complex puzzle" that she has to "decode". For her, it's about hanging on to what did work last year and getting rid of what didn't. Her musings really spoke to me because it's not about setting lofty and unattainable goals. Or "getting it right" and being perfect.
This view comes from the realistic perspective that we are fallible, imperfect and always changing. There is no absolute when it comes to life plans. Oh, maybe for a very determined few, but not the vast majority of us. We will always be learning. We will always need to adapt and change. There will always be both great happiness and great pain in our lives. And choosing to be "okay" with this is probably the best resolution any of us can make.
So as I very gratefully, but respectfully, shut the door on 2013, and take a good look at the puzzle that is 2014, I wish you and your families "Happy Decoding"!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.ca
People often refer to the new year as a blank slate or book of blank pages waiting to be written by you. It's about turning over a new leaf and making resolutions to "be better", whether that means losing 30 lbs or quitting smoking or planning the perfect wedding. But a friend of mine described the coming year as "an incredibly complex puzzle" that she has to "decode". For her, it's about hanging on to what did work last year and getting rid of what didn't. Her musings really spoke to me because it's not about setting lofty and unattainable goals. Or "getting it right" and being perfect.
This view comes from the realistic perspective that we are fallible, imperfect and always changing. There is no absolute when it comes to life plans. Oh, maybe for a very determined few, but not the vast majority of us. We will always be learning. We will always need to adapt and change. There will always be both great happiness and great pain in our lives. And choosing to be "okay" with this is probably the best resolution any of us can make.
So as I very gratefully, but respectfully, shut the door on 2013, and take a good look at the puzzle that is 2014, I wish you and your families "Happy Decoding"!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.ca
Monday, January 06, 2014
Happy New Year!
Well, the holidays are officially over. Gone are
the days of Baileys in my coffee and extra cookies at lunch. (And tea time. And
dessert. And before bed snack.) Decorations and fruit cakes have been boxed away
for another year and children are back to school.
Wait... No! Both London school boards have declared a Snow Day and that means parents are frantically trying to arrange child care and employers are facing a morning of delayed commuters and called-in personal days.
We here at ContestHound, however, are seeing first-hand the benefits of owning a family-run home business: no child care or work panic. We just have to contend with three kids that we would rather have had out of the house today, after two and a half weeks of non-stop "Can you take me to so-and-so's?" and "Will you play with me?" and "Go to your room and leave your sister alone!" and "MO-OM!!"
Don't get me wrong - I love my kids like crazy. But this extra "holiday" I've been given is really pushing the crazy part!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.ca
Wait... No! Both London school boards have declared a Snow Day and that means parents are frantically trying to arrange child care and employers are facing a morning of delayed commuters and called-in personal days.
We here at ContestHound, however, are seeing first-hand the benefits of owning a family-run home business: no child care or work panic. We just have to contend with three kids that we would rather have had out of the house today, after two and a half weeks of non-stop "Can you take me to so-and-so's?" and "Will you play with me?" and "Go to your room and leave your sister alone!" and "MO-OM!!"
Don't get me wrong - I love my kids like crazy. But this extra "holiday" I've been given is really pushing the crazy part!
Happy sweeping!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.ca
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