Baby Shopping?

My 4-year-old daughter Willa and her little friend were playing house. They had all the food and toy dishes set up and Julia found the baby stroller.

"We need a baby," she decided.

"Oh," said Willa, mournfully. "My baby died and I forgot to go to the store."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Happy Valentine's Day ...

While people are always quick to point out the similarities of my three children, I find it more interesting to note their differences. Let's take the production of Valentine's Day cards, for instance.

The other night, I was elbow-deep in construction paper cut-outs of hearts. I cut while the kids pasted and decorated. All three seemed equally keen right out of the gate.

Neva set up on the piano bench and painstakingly applied stickers and stamps around the perimeters, making her choices based on each friend's personality and talents. It took several hours (including the next morning) to make the cards for just the girls in her class.

Milo began writing his name on his hearts, but tired quickly when he learned I had no "Transformer" stickers for the boys in his class. His pile of hearts is still sitting untouched on my desk, two days later. This afternoon, however, the purchase of pre-fab Spiderman valentine cards has renewed his enthusiasm. He's currently printing at Mach speed!

Willa, on the other hand, took all the construction paper out of the craft box, grabbed a glue stick and began gluing. And gluing and gluing and gluing! She was going through paper hearts faster than I could cut them. Each valentine she made -- and there were more than a dozen for all her friends at daycare -- was a full-sized sheet with hearts, scraps of paper and stickers. Each one entirely different from the next, they were more than cards: they were works of art!

If only the recipients understood the care (or not) that went into each card.

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Tele-Education ...

There is so much controversy these days surrounding the issue of children and television. They watch too much. It contributes to obesity. There is too much violence. It numbs the brain with fast-paced, over-stimulating drivel.

While those points may be true -- proven facts, even -- you cannot dismiss the benefits of some of the programming out there. One of the favorites with pre-schoolers today is Go, Diego! Go!, about an adventurous Latino boy (the cousin of another favorite, Dora the Explorer) who is an animal rescuer. Not only do they learn about animals from all over the world, they also pick up a little Spanish along the way.

I was surprised, however, at just how much my almost-4-year-old was remembering about the animals. Willa and I were playing with her Diego toys this afternoon and she asked me for the monkey. There were two: one yellow, one brown. So I handed her the monkey closest to me.

"No, not the spider monkey," she corrected me. "I want the baby howler monkey."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Fashion Senseless ...

My 8-year-old daughter seems to have taken issue lately with my lack of style. Granted, I own only 2 pairs of pants and haven't shopped for myself (in earnest) in over 2 years. However, I'm not sure her sleeveless, navy sundress paired with pink striped knee socks would pass muster on the catwalk either!

The other morning was particularly cold so I pulled a sweater over my long-johns, tucking in the undershirt. Later in the day, the undershirt came untucked and it hung longer than my sweater. Neva took a look at my dishevelled attire and said:

"Finally! You're wearing something fashionable!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

When Grown-Ups Grow Up ...

While I was tucking them in to bed, Milo and Willa were discussing the future: what they want to be when they grow up (a dad and a mom, respectively), who they want to marry (they have two friends from the babysitter's all picked out). Then the converstion turned to Bob and me when Willa asked, "What's Daddy gonna be when he grows up?"

Instantly, Milo answered, "Dead!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Self-Discipline?

Willa came into the kitchen pulling a plastic toy behind her on string. Every once and while, she would give it a yank, flinging it out to the side and hitting something in its path.

"Please be careful with that, Willa, " I warned. "I don't want you to flick my feet or break something."

"It's my dog," she explained. "He keeps jumpin' up. He jumps up for food, for hugs, for playin' ... for everything."

"Hmmm, it sounds like he needs some discipline."

"Ya," she agreed. "And I don't have any!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Word-of-the-Day ...

I received a Word-of-the-Day email from an online dictionary and Neva likes to read the words with me. Yesterday, the word was limpid. As I read the definitions to her, she listened intently.

"Absolutely serene and untroubled," I read.

"Uh, I'm not that," she said.

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Lost in Translation ...

"Mom," Neva asked one day, "if you speak français, how come I can't?"

While I used to be almost fluent -- French immersion classes through elementary and secondary school, plus a 3-month student exchange in France -- I haven't had occasion to use French much since University. I think I'd have to be immersed again to regain my knowledge.

"Well, just because I learned to speak French, doesn't mean you would be born knowing how to speak it. And Daddy and I don't speak French to each other so you couldn't pick it up."

"Can you teach me to speak français someday?" she asked.

"Oh boy," I muttered.

"What does that mean?!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

An Offer You Can't Refuse ...

One of our first measures of discipline in our house is the loss of privileges, such as television, computer, play dates or telephone. As a rule, we also allow the kids to earn back that privilege with good behavior. While we know that negotiation is a skill they will test out in these circumstances, Bob and I never thought it would turn to bribery.

Neva was discussing with Bob how she could earn back television to watch her favorite show after school. She wasn't getting far with him so she went to her dwindling stash of Halloween treats and counted her prized candy bars.

"If you let me watch TV, I'll give you a Coffee Crisp," she said, dangling the proverbial carrot in front of her father's nose, knowing it was his favourite too.

Laughing, Bob declined the offer but added, "It almost worked though."

With only a moment's hesitation, Neva upped the ante: "Two Coffee Crisps?!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Okay, You Do It ...

While trying to get kids ready for bed last night, my efforts were met with the usual resistance. Milo and Willa were deep in play and Neva was engrossed in a book. But she overheard me telling Bob that I was having no luck getting them to listen.

When I next saw them, Milo was listening intently to Neva tell him all about cartilage in our noses, knees and ears. (Where that came from, I have no idea, but he was enthralled.) "Do you understand, Milo?" she asked.

"Ya!" he answered, nodding with great interest.

"See," Neva said as she turned to me, "he listens to me!"

"Okay, then," I countered. "You get him ready for bed."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Happy Birthday to Me!

Okay, I confess! I have a very bad habit of focussing on the negative side of things. I complain about the cold, miserable weather. The kids' poor behaviour. The straps on the car seats. The mess in the living room. I burnt the grilled cheese sandwiches. Again! I think if I were a cartoon character, the little red devil on my shoulder would be tying his rival to a railroad track.

But today, as I was waking up, my regular, "Is it morning already?!" attitude was abruptly halted by the vision of a blonde, cherub-faced little girl at my bedside. She thrust a folded piece of paper in my face.

"Happy Boteday, Mumma!" she smiled brightly.

My birthday is more than 6 months away, but I think for the sake of my sanity (and my family's!), I will celebrate it today anyway. Let's say a little angel told me to!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Bad Influence ...

Since mid-September, I've been coming down to Bob and Kathleen's every other day to work. The afternoons at the Gunther house are relatively quiet and peaceful, filled with the tapping of keys, cups of green tea, and the pure, unrivalled wit of myself and the Gunthers. Quiet and peaceful, that is, until around 4, when the kids come thumping through the front door. But I don't mind the distraction. In fact, I quite enjoy the company of Neva and Milo (Willa usually doesn't come home until after I've left), and I sometimes joke with my girlfriend that Milo is a bad influence on me. Whenever I say something immature enough to provoke a reproving glance, I can only shrug at my girlfriend, and say, "It's Milo's fault." She doesn't believe me, but the joke will usually get me off the hook for whatever inanity I've committed. The negative outcome, though, is that my girlfriend now sees me as a "big kid," which hasn't done my self-esteem any favours.

The other day, Milo came home from school and asked his mom if he could share a small bag of chips with me, as he often does. She told him he could, but only if he had some fruit. And so, Milo arrived at my desk with a bag of chips and two apples: one for me, one for him. Now that, as I later told my girlfriend, is what I call a good friend. Always inclusive, thinking of others. At least, sometimes.

Yesterday, as 5 o'clock slowly rolled around, and I started to get ready to leave, Milo invited me to stay a bit longer to play with him. We hadn't yet had a chance to wear our "invisible glasses," or eat our single serving bag of chips, and since I really didn't have anything planned for the evening, I gladly accepted my young friend's invitation. I put my shoes away, and we sat at the computer and watched a couple Nascar clips. But within a few moments, I removed my invisible glasses and migrated into Bob's office, to get some advice on a website I've recently launched (SouthernMostReview.com).

It didn't take long for Milo to follow me in, and he spent the next five minutes trying to grab our attention. To, as any good friend would, be inclusive. He handed us some magnetic darts, and encouraged us to throw them at the dartboard. Though Bob and I both played along, Milo could tell, I think, that we weren't really paying attention to the game. That our hearts weren't in it. We were taking too long between turns, and expressing very little excitement over the outcomes of our throws. And so, by about the third half-hearted toss, Milo collected the darts and put them in my hands. I was about to throw again, but he ordered me not to.

"Why not?" I asked.

Milo didn't answer my question. Instead he said, "Mike, you ... you can go now."

"I can throw?"

"No. You can leave. You're not supposed to be here anyway."

I started to laugh. I couldn't help it. Milo often says some pretty funny things, but I could tell by the furrow in his brow that he wasn't kidding. So Bob intervened, tried to explain that he and I were involved in something, and needed a bit of time. But Milo wasn't having any of that.

"No," he said. "It's late. You were supposed to leave a long time ago. So you can go now, okay? You're not supposed to be here." And with that, Milo left the room.

Now, I may not be the shiniest toy in the toy box, but I know how to take a hint. I guess good friends don't just try to be inclusive. They also aren't afraid to let you know, by whatever means necessary, when you're no longer welcome. Needless to say, like being called a "big kid" by my girlfriend, being rejected by a friend 20 years my junior hasn't done my self-esteem any favours either.

Michael Murphy
Guest Writer and Heck of a Nice Guy, ContestHound.com

The Race for the Cup ... Part 2

Last week, I told you all about Milo's obsession with everything and anything NASCAR. (insert link to archives/blog here?) There are daily races throughout the house, posters in his bedroom, and incessant talk about cautions, pit stops and checkered flags. He even passed up a birthday party at a swimming pool a few weeks ago so he wouldn't miss the big race!

Although he cheers on many different cars, Milo has had one favourite driver from the start: Tony Stewart. Milo has a Tony Stewart poster, a Tony Stewart jigsaw puzzle, a Tony Stewart note pad and a special orange HotWheels car that is always Tony Stewart in his play races. His selection wasn't necessarily based on any knowledge of Tony's skill or long career, but because he drives the Home Depot care.

In last week's Sunday race, Tony Stewart was nearing the front of the pack as the race was coming to an end. This was the closest he'd been to winning in quite some time and at about 10 laps to go Milo was giddy with excitement, barely able to contain himself. I was in the kitchen when the race ended, but heard Milo suddenly start to cry. I ran to the to see if he was okay. He was sobbing in to Bob's arms.

"He's upset because Jimmie Johnson won the race," Bob told me.

"I wanted Tony Stewart to win!" he bawled.

Now, if that's not a loyal fan, I don't know what is!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Super Mom ...

I often wonder how my mother managed to raise all nine of us without losing her mind. There are 13 years separating me from my oldest sister, but only 8 1/2 years between the 8 oldest. That's a lot of clingy and whiny little people to minister to all at once. This week was the most recent time in my life when I was in awe of Mom and her inner strength.

The viruses that run rampant in elementary schools descended upon our house to wreak havoc this week. We’ve run the gamut from fever and congestion to, well, the more unpleasant of flu-like symptoms. I had both Milo and Neva home for three days with fever. I spent my days getting water, propping up pillows, warding off, taking temperatures, giving Tylenol and putting on movies. I’ve been awake through the wee hours 3 nights in a row blowing noses, giving more Tylenol, snuggling them back to sleep and, like last night, stripping beds and doing laundry.

Getting up to send Neva off to school this morning was not high on my priority list, yet I dragged myself out of bed (correction: Willa dragged me out of bed) and started the day. And that’s when I thought of Mom. She was always up before us; only once in my life do I remember her sleeping in. If she was ever sick, I don’t remember it. But she once had 8 kids at the same time with whooping cough. When chicken pox and measles hit, it was never isolated to one child. And I know I was a lot older than my kids were before I could hit the bucket!

But Mom always carried on – being sick is part of life and looking after sick kids is part of raising them. She still managed to get lunches made, laundry done and a hot homemade dinner on the table. (We never had take out in those days). So why do I struggle through the day, pining for my pillow and wishing someone else would cook tonight?

Well, maybe Mom did struggle, just not shamelessly as I do. And I’m sure she would rather have had a nap and ordered in pizza. I’ll never be a Super Mom, but next time I’m feeling tired because the kids were sick, I’ll think of my mother and draw from her strength, her endurance.

So, to Mom I say: Thank you for taking such great care of us, even when you really needed a break. And I’m sorry I threw up on you!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

The Race for the Cup ...

The cars are lined up on the track. Excitement rises as the drivers await the Grand Marshall's highly-anticipated go-ahead: "Gentlemen, start your engines!"

The pace car leads the competitors through the green flag and the race begins! Tony Stewart is in the lead with Jeff Burton and Jimmie Johnson close behind. Only two laps into the race, there's a crash. A caution is called and the yellow flag comes out. The pace car leads the slowing racers around the track while the commentator describes the scene:

"There were three cars. First it went like, neeeaow. And this guy slipped and put on the breaks, both into Jamie McMurray, you know, the 17 car. Carl Edwards spinned and now they're in the pits."

Oh, wait! Did you think this was a NASCAR race? No, this is MASCAR: Milo's Association for Stock Car Auto Racing and the track has been my five-year-old’s 50 or so Hot Wheels cars lined up in an oval throughout the apartment. The race location changes daily -- from dining room floor to laundry room floor to kitchen floor. Some days he's racing the Nextel Cup Series, other days the Busch Series.

Milo has become totally engrossed with Nascar since he started watching it this spring with Bob. He knows the "little" race (the Busch series) is usually on Saturdays and the "big" race (the Nextel Cup Series) on Sundays. He knows the meaning of almost all the different coloured flags, the names and car numbers of at least a dozen of the drivers and is beginning to understand the mechanics of driving. He even has special race clothes that he wears only on Sundays.

And as Milo describes the end of the race, with full-body enthuisasm: "When it’s last lap, it is the white flag. And when somebody wins, it’s a checkered flag. Jimmie Johnson is on the left, Matt Kenseth on the right. Jimmie Johnson went on the bottom of the racetrack, it’s his last chance, and, neeeaow, then flew up ahead. And Jimmie Johnson took the checkered flag and his third career win!"

I don’t think it could be more exciting than that, even if the details are a little mixed up!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Password Protected ...

Our children were born into an electronic generation and our home, with its 3 separate computers, reflects that. (While we did not purchase a computer for the kids, they did acquire my old one when I needed to upgrade.) Yet, despite not being allowed to use my computer (or, perhaps, just for that very reason), they are very attracted to it. So I have set up a screen saver with a password to keep them out.

Yesterday, Milo was sitting at my computer and asked me to tell him my password.

"But if I tell you, then it won't be a secret password anymore."

So he put his fingers in his ears and said, "Okay, I'm not listening. Now tell me your password."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Return to Sender ...

We had another baby today. Well, I didn't give birth to her, we just looked after her for a few hours while her mother, a good friend of ours, taught a class at the university.

Little 9-month-old Lauren was happy crawling around the floor and I was quickly reminded that I couldn't possibly have anymore children as I followed her around and took things out of her hands: Lego pieces, catnip-filled toys, Barbie shoes, house plants, the pea that fell off the dining room table three nights ago that no one could find. She did, however, sweep up a lot of breakfast crumbs and cat fur as she crawled along.

And now that she's gone home, I'm thinking of how lovely she was and how she was the perfect baby. She had bright, happy eyes, beautiful, generous smiles, rosy cheeks, chubby legs and I got to hand her back to her mother before naptime!

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Mortar-fied ...

Our landlords are doing a few renovations to the exterior of the house we live in. Currently, there is a two-storey scaffold surrounding the bay window in our dining room. On it is a bricklayer who is replacing the mortar around the bricks and windowsills, rotten with age.

On his first day here, our kids watched as he drilled holes in the ivy-eaten mortar and removed the sill in the laundry room. Our oldest, Neva, ran inside to look out the window, but returned looking disappointed.

"I still can't see through the wall!"

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

October is Breast Cancer Month ...

Every year, since Neva was a baby, I have been walking for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation in the CIBC Run for the Cure. This year marked my 8th year walking, which was on Sunday, September 30, kick-starting Breast Cancer Awareness Month. When I first started in 2000, I saw a good cause I wanted to support. Since then, I have encountered so many people whose lives, either directly or indirectly, have been touched by breast cancer. Most significant to us was Bob's sister, Jennifer, who died in 2001.

Every year I set a fundraising goal. This year I'm aiming for $2,500, which is higher than usual, but I've had so much great support in the past, I thought I'd challenge myself a bit! If I reach my goal, I'll have raised almost $14,500 in the past 8 years.

If you wish to join the fight to end breast cancer, please support me in my fundraising efforts by clicking the link below. Donations can be made from any country, in any denomination. Tax receipts for donations of $20 or more will be issued automatically by mail.

Link here to donate now.

Thank you so very much!


Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com

Planning Ahead ...

Milo, our 5-year-old, seems to be a planner. At least once a day he'll come up to me and say, "Mommy, I need you."

"What do you need me for, buddy?"

"I need you to play with me after tomorrow."

Happy sweeping!

Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com