The Best Christmas Ever

"Mommy, this is the BEST Christmas ever!" exclaimed my 2 year repeatedly on Christmas day.

After a late night on Christmas Eve, the children thankfully slept in on Christmas Day. We got home from my brother's house at about 2:30 in the morning. We spent the next hour building the Dora and Diego Pirate Adventureship and wrapping the Kitchen Centre that had fortunately been built a few days earlier. We filled the stockings and then snuck into bed at about a quarter to four.

We awoke at 8:45 to Victor banging at his bedroom gate. We were grateful and amazed that the children had slept in almost 2 hours. We let the little guy out of his room and he ran to his sister's room and jumped on her bed, calling "nenna, nenna". She jumped out of bed and raced to the top of the stairs to see if Santa had come.

Two little munchkins were bursting with excitement as they raced down the stairs. Oddly, they ran right by the wrapped pirate playhouse and the kitchen centre and went straight to the fireplace to rip open their stockings. Half-way through, Sienna remembers the glass of milk and cookies and carrots that we had placed out for Santa. She was very pleased to see that Santa drank all of his milk, leaving only a few cookie crumbs behind, and one carrot that had been munched on by Rudolph.

We actually had to point them in the direction of the two monstrous gifts sitting in the kitchen. They were jumping and squealing with delight as they unwrapped the pirate ship and the kitchen centre, left by Santa.

At Sienna's request, we had Strawberry Belgian Waffles for breakfast. This gave them just enough energy to rip through the rest of their gifts from Mommy and Daddy. The reaped a huge loot this year. Sienna received pots and pans for her new kitchen, a blender, a mixer, and a coffee maker along with a new dolly, a princess outfit, some books and a few clothes. Little Victor was equally gifted with an Elmo Live, a shopping cart, toy drum, saxophone, remote control truck, books, and clothes.

Time

Five hundrend twenty five thousand six hundred minutes It really doesn't matter how you measure time - whether it be by seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks or months. The units of time that make up one full year pass by so quickly. I measure time by the arrival of the weekend; by the passing of another work week with so much left uncompleted. I measure time by the disappearance of a day. Before I know it, another day is over and I am once again placing my head on the pillow not understanding how the day has passed so quickly. I measure time by the the clothes I pack away which no longer fit my children. Just how did they outgrow this shirt, pant, sock? I measure time by another trip to the grocery, wondering how all those groceries I last bought have disappeared from the fridge. I measure time by staring at the trees in my backyard, wondering how they became covered with snow, when just yesterday I was was watching the leaves bud. Time is tick, tick, ticking away.

A Time Honoured Tradition

You know what they say about the power of suggestion? Well, there I am standing in line at the grocery store looking at the display of ready-t0-eat rice krispy treats. I reach out to throw a box into the cart when I think to myself that it would be much more fun to make rice krispy treats with Sienn. It is afterall a time-honoured-tradition and a rite of passage for every mother to teach her children to make rice krispy treats, right? So off I go on the hunt for rice krispies [check], marshmallows [check] and butter [check]. All done - an easy list. I get home, excited to tell Sienna that we are going to make rice krispy treats together. She, of course, is thrilled at theh prospect of cooking with Mommy, even though she has absolutely no clue what a rice krispy treat is. We pull the step ladder up to the stove she can watch [and help]. By this time, she has ripped open the bag of marshmallows and proclaims, "mmmm, yummy". We start to add the marshmallows to the pot, and she is not too thrilled that they have melted into a gooey mess. We add the vanilla, and then the rice krispies. And stir, stir, stir. She helps me to pat them into a buttered pan, her little tiny palms flattening away (much more efficient than a spatula, right?). She eats all of her dinner in anticipation of trying her first ever rice krispy treat. And then the moment of truth ...... "mmmmmm, Mommy, I like rice krispy treats".

Rice Krispies - 5.99

Marshmallows - 1.59

The look on your child's face when she eats her first rice krispy treat - priceless

The Battle at the Bedroom Gate

It's been months since Victor has slept in a crib. He sleeps on a twin mattress on the floor, with bed rails flanking the sides of the mattress, keeping his tiny little body from rolling of the bed. He's held prisoner in his room by the child safety gate which barricades his bedroom door. For months now we've been trying to get him to sleep through the night and to learn to put himself to sleep. We've successfully weaned him from the the sleep-inducing effects of warm milk. The next challenge is to get him to stop crying when he realizes he is under lock down for the night. Last night was a battle. He stood at the bedroom gate, beating his little fists on the clear plexiglass and wailing as loud as his little lungs would let him. He almost wore me down, but I resisted. I came and went from the gate, pleading with him to go put his head on the pillow. I was almost convinced that he couldn't understand me and that I was losing the battle, when it happened. He admitted defeat. He looked at me with an angry snarl on his little face. And with tears streaming down his little cheeks, he turned and walked away from me, and climbed up on his mattress. I won. For the first time ever, he went to sleep on his own. On his own. No bottle. No lullaby. He climbed into bed. Put his head on his pillow, grabbed his Elmo, and within seconds he had drifted off into dreamland. The first of many battles, I'm sure. But the Battle of Bedroom Gate was over and won by Mom.

And Then My Heart Melted

Last night, my littlest monkey (Victor) was an absolute demon. We are trying to teach him to go to sleep on his own, without a bottle and without anyone sitting by his side. He screamed bloody murder everytime I left the room. He woke up a few times through the night and at about 4 AM, I finally caved and brought him into our bed. He snuggled up againts me and slept soundly for a few more hours.

I woke up this morning to slobbery kisses on my face. I openned my eyes to this smiling little boy with a big goobery grin. He smiled at me and said the words that every mother longs to hear. Ma-Ma.

And it melted my heart.

Am I really doing this?

I remember a few years back, reading a thread on a message board, called "Do you Blog?" I had no clue what a blog was. Probably still don't. I love reading the blog of a close friend, and I guess I thought, "hey, I can do this". If nothing else, this will serve as a chronical of the life and times of working mom, wife, and mother of two. Sound exciting? It is to me. Maybe one day, my kids will read it too. And then, they will probably say, "gawd Mom, did you have to put that on the internet?". As I paused on the registration page, I had to think of a user name. For years, my Yahoo ID has been Goan Princess. So Goan Princess it was. When my daughter was born in 2006, I affectionately called her "Princess Sienna of Oakville" and then when my son was born in 2007, he became "Prince Victor of Oakville". So there you have it, a theme is born and The Royal Family of Oakville are we. For years, my husband has been telling me that he is a god. I guess he will have to settle for being a Prince. Maybe one day, he'll be King.