What Kind of Noise Annoys a Mother?

A noisy noise annoys a Mother!

We live in the main floor of a turn-of-the-century house. Despite all the "stuff" we have occupying space (like furniture and a plethora of kids' toys), the hardwood floors and high ceilings make it somewhat cavernous when listening to the cacophony for which our children are quite often responsible.

The two bedrooms are adjacent to the living and dining rooms, so when the kids go to bed, the television needs to be quiet. Last night, after I'd put him to bed for what I had hoped would be the last time, Milo started yelling for me from his room. I was in the kitchen at the other end of the apartment, and responded to him only once to go to sleep. I figured, since Bob was in the next room watching TV, he could deal with Milo.

"Mom!" he continued to yell, in his big 4 1/2-year-old voice. "MO-OM!"

I stopped doing dishes momentarily and took a deep, cleansing breath. "I will not yell back," I told myself. If anyone was going to get in trouble for waking the girls, it wasn't going to me.

Finally, after several minutes of him calling, Milo appeared in the kitchen, with that contrived sleepy look that kids are so good at.

"Why are you out of bed?" I asked, somewhat testily.

"I can't sleep because of all the noise."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

I Spy, With My Little Eye (Redux) ...

I've told a few stories now about playing "I Spy" with the kids. So you know that we've been spying letters lately, since Milo's learning to spell. Willa just plays along, totally unconcerned that she has no clue what most words start with. Here's how it went today:

Willa: "I 'py with my little eye, tumting 'tart with D."

Me: "Daddy? Dog? Dancer? Dandelion?"

Willa: "No. No. No. No."

Me: "I give up."

Willa: "A bear, tilly!"

Me: "Bear starts with B."

Willa: "Oh... I 'py with my little eye, tumting 'tart with B."

Me: "Bear?"

Willa: "Yeah!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Dead Man Chalking ...

The weather is quite nice and Milo's kindergarten class had gone outside for gym. So, when I picked him up from school today, he pulled me straight into the school yard to show me something.

"I made a people," he said, showing me a chalk-drawing of a stick man.

"That's great, Milo," I said, "Who is it?"

"It's Daddy. He's dead."

"Oh no! How did he die?"

"Because he's on the pavement and I stepped-ed on his toe."

"What do we do with him now?"

"We just wait. Wait for him to be sucked down into the ground."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Grasshopper, anyone?

Last night at the dinner table, my 3-year-old daughter Willa leaned across the table to reach some bread and butter. When she sat back down, she pulled her placemat with her and her plate nearly fell in her lap. Bob quickly caught the plate and a minor disaster was averted.

"Good catch, Daddy, " I said with a sigh of relief.

"I a good catcher, too, you know, " Willa chimed in, seemingly oblivious to what had just transpired.

"Yes, you are," we said encouragingly.

"Ya! I can catch bugs with my tongue!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Bad Bed Mood ...

Lately I've been having a little problem getting myself to bed at a good hour. There's always "one last thing" I need to do before it's lights out. Luckily, on weekends, I have a bit more leeway for sleeping in, but everyone in my house knows I have a hard time getting out of bed in the mornings. So yesterday my 7-year-old, Neva, gave me the gears and told me I should go to bed by 10:30pm.

As I tucked her in to bed last night, she reminded me, "Make sure you go to bed at 10:30pm. You can go to bed between 10:30 and 10:50, but no later than 10:50." I thanked her, kissed her goodnight and told her I would do my best.

I thought I was doing well when I was in bed by 11:15pm -- later than Neva's instructions, but certainly earlier than recent nights. Still, I was very tired waking up this morning and as I laid in bed not wanting to get up, Neva, having heard how I disobeyed her instruction, came in to my bedroom and told me to come with her.

She had put sticky-notes everywhere -- on the fish tank, on my computer monitor, the dishwasher, the fridge and the kitchen counter. They all read: "Go to sleep at 10:30 - 10:50. Your in a bed mood."

I thanked her for taking such good care of me and asked, "You wrote bed mood. Did you mean bad mood?"

"No," she said, smiling, "You're in a bed mood, because you always want to be in bed when you shouldn't be."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Lunch and a Donut

I just came in from a lunch date. It's been a long time since this friend and I have had lunch together, just the two of us, without little kids around. And although my companion seemed more engrossed in her lunch than conversation with me, I didn't mind. We shared some stories, discussed a few plans for summer, and shared a chocolate glazed donut at the end of it all.

It was the best lunch date I've had in a long, long time. And I think she and I will have to do it more often -- maybe set a date once a month and stick to it. After all, it's not everyday I get to sit face-to-face with my 7-year-old and talk uninterrupted for almost an entire hour.

Thanks for having lunch with me, Neva. You made my day!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

March Broke ...

For most of us here in North America, last week was March break, a week of holiday from school that many parents consider Hell Week. There are several different options of getting through hell ... I mean, March break. If you are in the group of parents that save vacation time for summer (or for days when your kids are at home from school sick), you must pay through the nose for a special day camp for your school-aged children.

If you take time off from work, you might fly off to sunnier climes in search of a much-needed break from the cold. Or perhaps you enjoy winter and take the opportunity to hit the slopes and enjoy the last of the snow. Either way, you're looking at inflated airfares and lift fees, and crowded airports, ski hills and Disney-like attractions.

If you stay at home with your kids, you try to fill their days with endless activity -- swimming or skating, gymnasiums, and pay-per-play centres. And did I mention the exorbitant prices?

Out of pure dedication to our readers and online visitors (or just downright stupidity), we opt to stay home with our kids and go nowhere, continuing our daily slog in a much noisier home. Unfortunately, the weather is usually decidedly grim and no one wants to play outside. And if it is warm or sunny, it means there is usually enough slush and mud to scare even the best laundress back into her home.

Our week was filled with "What can I do/eat/watch now?" and "Mom, I'm bored!" and "All my friends went away. Why can't we go somewhere for March break?" There was much sibling rivalry and the house was more of a minefield of toys than it was anything else. And I often felt like pulling my hair out.

But there were some fun moments too. Like the time Neva, 7 1/2, finally figured out how to get the cat to play with one of its toys. Or the afternoon all three kids spent more than an hour playing and giggling in the bathtub together. We did watch some fun new movies and our good friends had the kids over to play on two afternoons, giving Bob and me some kid-free work time.

So in the end, we did manage to make it through the kids' March break with almost all of our hair. But we do have a few more grey ones.

So, please keep patronizing our advertisers. I think next year we might be planning an over-priced vacation somewhere!
Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

I Spy, With My Little Eye ...

This morning the kids and I were playing "I Spy". When playing with Willa, who is only 3 years old, you really have to be lax with the rules. She'll spy blue, for instance, but then, in the end, join in on guessing what she spied. "I know, I know!" she'll say. "Id it da blanket?"

Today we were playing "I Spy" with letters, as I often do with my 4 1/2-year-old, Milo, who is learning to read. Willa would just call out things she saw in the room, regardless of whether they started with the "spied" letter or not. When it was Willa's turn, she spied "tum-ting dat tart wit W". We all guessed "Willa", since that's the only word she knows that starts with W. We were wrong. After several failed attempts, she gave us a clue.

"It out-tide," she said as she gently wiggled her fingers in the air. "It da Wain!"

Well, what do you know? She got it wight!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Go Figaro ...

We all know the age old story about the child who receives the new toy and plays more with the box. Well it also applies, as I have discovered, to cats.

You have heard about our new four-legged feline, Figaro, who joined our family a month ago. Well, we decided it was high time to buy him something to play with. (Okay, okay, my olderst daughter Neva was driving me nuts asking every day when we were going to get him some toys. So I relented.)

We went to the big box pet store and each picked out something special for our furry friend. That same day our neighbour, who would have gladly taken Figaro in on that fateful day of his discovery in our shed had it not been for her own cat, came by with some gifts of her own. So Figaro now has two scratching toys with spring-mounted pom-poms on top, three balls, a furry creature-like thing, a squeaking feathered bird on a long elastic string and a pillow filled with catnip.

And what do I find him playing with every night? A 4-inch piece of yarn that fell off one of Neva's crafts.

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

The Pursuit of Happiness ...

Lately, our son Milo has been having some problems at school and more recently the misbehavior has been spilling over to home life. He has been pushing and hitting his little friends and last night he threw his dinner plate on the floor, something very out of character for him. At only 4 1/2 years old, it can be difficult for him to express his frustrations verbally and getting him to explain what happened to precipitate his actions can be even more difficult.

My husband Bob and I feel he may be the victim of some mild bullying from two older boys in the school yard, but in the meantime, we're trying to deal with his behavior at home and see where it's coming from.

Yesterday, after a particularly difficult morning, I sat down with Milo on his bed to talk about why he had just been in a time out.

"You know that Daddy and I love you very, very much. And it makes us sad to see you struggling. We just want to help you do well at school. We just want you to be happy."

"I am happy," he replied with a smile. "I'm happy that you said that."

And as my little boy and I shared a big hug I thought, maybe the solution isn't as complicated as we imagined.

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

(Un)Interested Parties

Last week I told you about the stray cat we welcomed into our home. We had all his shots updated and have named him Figaro, so he's officially a part of our family now.

When we had him at the vet last week, she suggested we give him a bit of canned food in addition to the kibble. Willa, my 3-year-old daughter, was there when I first fed him the new food. 7 1/2-year-old Neva helped me the next time. It didn't occur to me to mention it to Milo, who, at 4 1/2, is relatively uninterested in the cat.

After the second day of wet food, as I was cleaning the litter box, I noticed two big clumps of food sitting in the litter. It was beyond me how it got there. Did the cat not like the food? Had he accidentally flung it, as cats sometimes do when eating? In any event, I moved his food dishes further away from the litter box and made a mental note to keep an eye on Figaro.

Later that day, Milo and I were in the bathroom where we keep the cat's food and litter box, when I mentioned I had to clean the box again. Matter-of-factly Milo said, "The cat poohed in his food dish."

"He what?" I asked, puzzled since the bowl was empty.

"He poohed in his food dish."

"And ... did you dump it in his litter box?" I asked as the mystery of the cat food suddenly became clear.

"Ya, I did! I cleaned it for him!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Little Drummer Girl ...

My daughter Willa was using two wooden spoons to bang on a wooden chest we have in the laundry room, which is right next to our home office. You can imagine, at 3 years old, just how noisy she was. Several times we needed to ask her to take her drumming elsewhere because it was getting too loud, thanks to the addition of the clothes dryer to her "drum kit".

When it came time for me to get our oldest daughter from school, I quietly slipped my coat and boots on.

"Why you have your coat on, Momma?" Willa asked, glancing at me only briefly from her play.

I was running late so I vaguely replied, "Oh, I just need to go to the van for a minute."

"Why? Do you don't like my drummin'?"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

All Thumbs ...

She is only 3 years old, but my youngest daughter Willa is quite often very happy to help with dinner preparation, be it wiping the table or putting chopped vegetables into a bowl. The other night she wanted to carry the plates to the table. She took two plastic plates from the kitchen counter, one in each hand, but was holding them awkwardly with her fingers scrunched together.

I gently took the plates from her. "Why don't you hold them with your thumbs on top, so you don't drop the plates or spill any food on the floor."

This time she took one plate in both hands, holding it properly with her thumbs on top, but then looked lost. She looked at the plate in her hands, then at the second plate in mine.

"I don't have anymore tums."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Trading Up ...

We found a cat trapped in the shed behind our house on the weekend. He was very cold, hungry and dirty. While we're waiting for a family to claim him, he is making himself quite at home, preferring to sleep under the plant lights during the day and on one of the kids' beds during the night.

I had been putting off the "when will we get another cat" question so now that one is here, if just temporarily, the kids are all claiming ownership. Milo, who is 4 1/2 years old and was the first to hear the cat's cries from the cold, feels he should be the one to name him. Our youngest, Willa, now 3, is just desperate to have him sit on her lap, and our oldest daughter, Neva, 7, thinks it should be her cat because she takes care of him the most. She quickly dropped her stake in this claim, however, when I reminded her that "taking care" of the cat also meant cleaning the litter box.

Her naiveté reminded me of when she was about 3 or 4 years old and she got her first fish. It hadn't been in the tank an hour when she asked, "Daddy, when my fish dies, can I get a cat?"

And I was reminded again of that naiveté yesterday when I went to pick her up for lunch at school. I was holding another mother's toddler when Neva walked out looking puzzled.

"Mommy," she asked, "what are you doing?"

"Oh," I responded matter-of-factly, "I traded the cat for Adam."

"Really?!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Toad in a Hole

Our oldest daughter Neva was recently at a friend's house for breakfast and was introduced to "Toad in a Hole". If you're unmiliar with this (as I was), you cut a circle out of the centre of a piece of buttered bread, and fry it in a pan with an egg in the hole. I'm not sure why it's not called "chicken in a hole", but that's beside the point.

We have been eating alot of "Toad in a Hole" (or as I like to call it, Amphibious Toast) since that day and everyone seems to enjoy it but 4 1/2-year-old Milo. The first time he had it, he happily ate the toast and the white of the egg. When I sent him back to eat the yolk, he popped the whole thing in his mouth, as is his style. The texture and sheer volume proved too much and he wanted to spit it out. We told him he had to eat it (he has always eaten the yolks in the past) and he sat for almost 30 minutes with it in his mouth before I relented and let him spit it out. Needless to say, it was an unpleasant experience for him.

The other day I was making TiaH for Neva and asked Milo if he wanted one.

"No, just the hole," he said. "I don't want the toad."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

It's Time to Sink or Swim ...

All three of our children take swimming lessons. Neva is 7 and can swim from A to B, but she could be a stronger swimmer. Both 4 1/2-year-old Milo and his 3-year-old sister Willa are, despite their age difference, almost at the same level of ability: they can float and are both enthusiastically and desperately trying to swim on their own.

I was getting the two little ones ready to go to their lessons the other night when Milo told me he didn't want to go.

"What's the matter, Milo?" I asked, surprised by his comment. "I thought you liked swimming lessons."

"I do. But the problem is, I sink!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

The Mitten-Hat Consistency Theory ...

I've spent some time recently theorizing about kids and their hats and mittens. If you're in a cold climate like we are, then likely you've come to similar conclusions, all of which concern the physical connections children have with their winter apparel.

It seems to me that there are three distinct types of relationships kids have with their hats and mittens. These I have named the "intimate", the "distant" and the "adverse", each exclusive of the other. No child can have traits from more that one grouping.

I would categorize my 3-year-old daughter Willa as having an intimate bond with her mittens. She had misplaced them at the shopping mall the other day. And as we returned to the scene, Willa's face showed her concern. She was genuinely worried that she wouldn't again have her mittens.

My 4-year son Milo however belongs in the distant grouping, as more often then not, within minutes of going outdoors, both his hat and mittens are no longer on his person, they are, in fact, nowhere to be seen. Only later do we find them under the snow.

Now my 7-year-old falls into the last grouping: adverse. She's coming to that age where hats and mittens are more of a fashion statement then a necessary item of clothing to protect oneself from the elements. She's the child that wears them only when she is around us, opting to remove them at her earliest convenience.

So, as I sit here writing this story in my warm and cozy office, I took the opportunity to don my own winter hat and scarf.
Happy sweeping!

Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com

Great Aspirations ...

I had my daughter Willa in to the paediatric walk-in clinic last weekend for an ear infection. As we waited for the doctor to come in, she pointed to the blood pressure cuff (the sphygmomanometer, in case you were wondering).

"I know what dat for, you know," she said. "You put it on your arm and 'queed it for it go all tight."

"Yes, you're right!" I was impressed.

After we discussed it for a while, she added, "I gonna be a doctor tum day, you know."

Now I was really impressed. Not even 3 years old yet and already she has great aspirations for her future.

"And den, tum day I gonna be a Tanta Claus," she added, as my pride diminished somewhat. "And den," she concluded excitedly, "tum day I gonna be a tree house!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Fish Tale ...

One of our kids received a battery-operated fishing game for Christmas. It's akin to a carnival game where the fish bob up and down, mouths opening and closing, and you have to drop your fishing line into an open mouth. Only this game has much smaller fish and a very tiny fishing rod. The game has proven to be an exercise in frustration for all three of our kids.

The other day, after 4-year-old Milo had been playing, unsuccessfully, for awhile, I noticed a pile of eyeball stickers on the table.

"Where did these all come from?" I asked.

"It was Milo," answered Bob. "He told me he took them off the fish so they couldn't see him fishing."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

App-Raisin' the Situation ...

Over the holidays, my three kids played alot with the Christmas decorations. The big favourites was the miniature nativity set I bought years ago at the dollar store. They are about the same size as the Fisher Price Little People and they were soon relocated from the buffet to the 3-storey doll house the kids have, joining all the other people-type figures they like to play with.

One night after the children were in bed, I was surveying the damage of the day's play when I saw the nativity scene neatly displayed on the dining room table.

There, in a circle around Baby Jesus, were Mary and Joseph, the three Magi, the donkey, the cow and the groovy, sunglasses-wearing California Raisin.

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther

Editor, ContestHound.com