I’m currently planning a small vacation for our family, a vacation that will be all secret until it is actually unfolding. One of the things that I am working on is getting places without a car – and what to do about car seats. Kale’s car seat is the pretty popular Evenflo Triumph (ours is plain gray and black rather than patterned, but has the same features). We selected it, not because of any of the features, but because when we arrived at BabiesRUs to spend a few hours testing out, trying on, and comparing multiple brands of car seats, tiny infant Kale (who actually wasn’t that tiny since his little legs were so long he had already outgrown his infant car seat) decided it was an appropriate time to fill his clothing with an extraordinary amount of poop and Ross and I discovered belatedly that neither one of us thought to bring a diaper bag. You could tell we were new parents that day. So we did what any self-respecting new parent would do, and bought the cheapest car seat in the store, and figured we would return it if it sucked. Fortunately, BabiesRUs has a ridiculously generous return policy (see also: major corporation that throws away more than my annual salary in saleable products) and so we thought “buy the fricking thing and get the heck outta here!”.

The Evenflo Triumph, while large, and heavy, and not really suited to being put in and out of multiple vehicles, and while being adorned with a fairly useless cup holder, has done us well. I like the fact that you can remove all of the fabric quickly and easily for a wash, and that it’s simple to put your kid in it and tighten. Unlike a lot of car seats, this one has a knob you turn, rather than a strap you have to heave on. So, taking this car seat with us without a car, while do-able, sort of, is really something I don’t want to do.

It’s funny, you know? There was a time when I remember that my spot in the family car was sitting, seatbelt-free, on the centre console between the two front seats. I remember only being told to wear my seat belt when we were on the highway, as if only high speed accidents could claim lives of non-seatbelt wearers. I recall some cars I have ridden in that did not have seatbelts at all. In the 80s, there was a Canadian campaign to increase the use of seatbelts in cars, and it was highly successful – the US started copying it, actually. I don’t remember the last time I rode without a seatbelt, actually. No wait, I do. On my 16th birthday I got a ticket for not wearing my seatbelt in my friend’s stupid little Datsun – he told me it didn’t work so I didn’t put it on and we went through a roadblock and I got dinged – $67.

If there is any reason whatsoever why you are not wearing your seat belt in the car, well, you’re an idiot. I’m sorry, but you are. I caught this on Thingamababy, and thought I’d share it because I think it’s great.

Our house is officially on the market, it shows on the public and realtor listing sites, as well as our realtor’s personal site. We had the first showing today, and I was inexplicably nervous. There is another scheduled for tomorrow, and a third for Sunday. It’s unlikely that the first people to see it will buy it, but, as they say “it only takes one”. I’m worried we won’t find a place to buy ourselves and so we’ll be stuck, accepting someone’s offer, with nowhere to go. I worry we might have to try and find a rental, and if you’ve got pets or kids that’s not easy at the best of times, never mind when you only want to live somewhere short term.

It’s stressful, but I also think to the future when if I want to sew something it isn’t going to be this 45 minute long process just to find my sewing machine and set it up. I think about a YARD. And, space to play play play.

It balances out.

* * * * *

Kale has been pushing my buttons lately. It seems that as his sleep improves  - and it has as he’s sleeping most nights in his own bed almost all night – his less than desirable toddler behaviour has been rearing its ugly head. On more than one occasion I have issued ultimatums he can’t possibly understand, and on more than one occasion I have muttered some choice expletives under my breath after I have said for the ninety thousandth time “THE DOG IS NOT A TOY. PLEASE DISCONTINUE ATTEMPTING TO RIDE MOOKI LIKE A HORSE.”

Kale had a bit of a bad day today – Bonnie pushed him out of her way and into a dresser, and he banged his ear. Shortly after that, he tripped over me (you know, the one sitting in the exact same position for a few minutes) and banged his head again. And right after Ross got home, we were all goofing off in the bedroom and he went, as they say, ass over teakettle off the bed and landed like a lump.

Ross and Kale are at swimming and so right after I hit “publish” on this post, I’m going to lace up my runners and go for a run for the first time in about 2 years. I think my stress levels need some good hard exercise to help take them down a notch or two – not only has the house selling / buying got me all jangled up, but this delightful, expected toddler behaviour is just so dang irritating.  I don’t want to bark at Kale any more than I already do, and I think sweating it out is the right thing to do. I see glimpses of a me I’m not particularly fond of, and it needs addressing.

Before I go – if you haven’t seen this freakin’ adorable picture on my Facebook page, here it is.

BFF

The other day, something came through my inbox that reminded me of my dad. As most of you know, Dad died in ‘06 from cancer. My dad was a really interesting character -the kind of guy that knew a lot of stuff about a lot of stuff, and could fix more or less anything mechanical. He was cheap – so cheap we used to give him a hard time about it. He found me my first car, a 1982 Honda Prelude, for $500. Little did he know that when it rained, it turned into a swamp in the back seat from some sort of leak that no one could find. I resorted to a shower curtain over the back seats.

Dad was the type of guy I’d call when something broke at my house, and he was able to walk you through fixing it over the phone. I once installed a light fixture with him on speaker phone. And he came to visit once and the first thing he did was fix our hot water tank’s valve, that we didn’t even know was broken. He was skilled mechanically speaking, and it’s a trait I wish I had more of.

When I was a tween and we had just moved into a sleepy little beachside town, my neighbour, Mr. Smith, had a shop. And I would spend countless hours in the shop with Mr. Smith. This was before child predators made moms freak out and keep their kids in bubbles (and I’m glad my mom let me! I had fun!) Mr. Smith helped me learn how to use a router, and a jigsaw, and if you put those tools in front of me today I don’t think I could actually identify them now, but give me a quick reminder and I’d be back at it. I made clocks for friends and family – wood clocks with old saw blades for faces. They sound a lot less nice than what they looked like. Although, I’m wondering now as an adult if all those people I gave those clocks to were just being nice when they told me how much they liked them, and they really filed them under “G” for garbage after the obligatory amount of time had passed. I know I liked making them.

I’ve been thinking lately that I want to find something like a little travel trailer, or a tent trailer one day, and one day rather soon. Gone are the days when a tent - especially our tiny two man tent – is going to cut it. But it’s important to me that Kale gets to taste the outdoors and go camping. I’m grateful I had Girl Guides and that both my mom and my dad were avid outdoors enthusiasts. I’ve been trolling Craigslist for a while now, trying to find the best deal, but it’s so confusing and I don’t really know what I’m shopping for and what features I really need anyway. This is the type of thing I would have tasked my dad with – finding me a little trailer in the best possible shape for the least amount of money. He had a knack for finding deals, and whatever needed fixing up he was generally able to do it with very little effort.

Sometimes when people die or leave you for good, you realize just how much you took for granted all of the little skills and talents they had, and all of the little skills and talents that made them so special. I’ve been feeling a bit melancholy this week – I seem to every year around this time as the February doldrums get to me -  and I’ve been thinking about those that have passed and those I’ve lost but are still living. Regret tastes awful and is so humbling.

A friend of mine’s teenage son took his life this past week. My heart is hurting for her and I am reminded to tell my loved ones how important they are to me. You should, too.

Last Wednesday Briana and I and some other local mums planned a toddler fun-fest at Strong Start, a fun program offered through the school system designed for kids under preschool age. Briana and I attempted to coordinate our schedules so that she would board the bus out in the west end where she lives, and I would jaunt merrily up the road and board the same bus as it passed and we would then arrive at Strong Start together. Huzzah! What fun!

I watched the bus whiz pass as I rounded the corner and so I waved as it pulled away.

Some furious texting with Briana and we determined the next bus and so I placated Kale with fruit leather until it arrived. It wasn’t the exact same bus, and that means there was a different route I needed to follow, and I asked the bus driver if he could let me off on Richmond Street. He gave me a lecture about not blocking the empty bus’ aisles with the stroller and then let me off at a street other than Richmond Street and muttered something about heading west. So I did.

And I ended up at Canada Games Pool, with no idea where I was meant to go. I wasn’t even entirely sure the name of the school. I’m a new iPhone user, so some of the tricks I could have used to figure out where I was I didn’t know. But eventually, Briana looked it up, called me back, and got me headed in the right direction.

We arrived just in time for snack time. There was no way I was going to get Kale to sit down and eat a snack after 90 minutes strapped into the stroller, so we played quietly in the corner by ourselves. Afterward, they Strong Start participants head over to the gymnasium, and I would say that was the best part of our day.

I left after that – the next part of the program is circle time and Kale hates circle time still, and so after 45 minutes at Strong Start, after 90 minutes of getting there, we went home. The bus driver on the way back wasn’t much more pleasant – he barked at me for not saying “Stroller Coming Off” when I left the bus.

It’s days like this that make me think about how easy it is to become a hermit when you’re a stay at home mom. How easy it is to cocoon yourself in your own little nest and never leave. How easy it is to just say “forgetaboutit.”

But you know, I just have to keep going. It’s not that big of a deal. Remember that New Year’s Resolution to just Let It Go.

* * * * *

Our house is officially on the market. If you know anyone looking for a 2 bedroom 1 bathroom ground level single level townhouse with an awesome fenced patio, shoot me an email.

No time! No time!

Last of the market blueberries (finally!), taken with iPhone:

From Kale 18-24 months

Kale and Bonnie hard at work with Kale Dough, also taken with iPhone, which seems to take better pictures than Sony camera:

From Kale 18-24 months

Kale showing The Moo some (unrequited love), naky style, taken by Ross with crappy Sony digicam:

From Kale 18-24 months

I am hardly the word of fashion. My daily uniform consists of Addidas all terrain type shoes, a pair of regular rise boot cut jeans, wool socks, and some sort of cotton based t shirt. For fun, I wear a fleece lightweight jacket. Fashionista, I am not. I don’t really want to be – there are much better places for me to put my money. It’s taken me years, but I’m finally learning that it’s perfectly okay to spend a good deal of money on a quality item that will give you longevity in terms of fashion and also in terms of years. Like, say, a wool pea coat in navy. Or high end leather boots that fit well and perform multiple functions. I have yet to find that elusive pair of jeans, which infuriates me.

Anyway, I tell you all this and now I am going to say this: I have a fashion prediction: dark denim is dying. And I’ll tell you why. But first, remember when acid wash was cool?

I think I had this outfit

 What you can’t see in that photo is the white scrunch socks, shoelace-less Keds, and giant skank purse. And while I had that outfit (although my jacket featured LACE and not TASSLES), I was never as cool as this chick is, right here. (Image courtesy of BasicallyBlack.com) But I remember before my mom finally caved and bought me acid wash jeans (right before they because uncool, thus proving I’m always at the end of a fashion DO), we took a pair of my faithful Levi Button Fly 501 jeans and attempted to make our own stylish acid wash jeans, complete with artful tears on the knees, the button fly flap removed, and the edges of all pockets scuffed with scissors. They turned out blotchy because we used bleach, and not acid, and I think they became shorts pretty quickly. The term these days is “reconstructed” which is just a totally 00’s way to say “took something I owned and D-I-Y-ed it in my bathroom to make it cooler”.

Anyway, the old faithful Levi’s 501 Button Fly jean, straight leg (pinch rolled, of course) was my go-to jeans in the 80s and it came in this sort of medium blue “stonewash” rinse. I don’t have that go-to jean anymore. I haven’t found anything that fits me nicely, hides what I want hidden etc. And so now I buy whatever the latest advertised “Jeans For Real Women” is, and wear them until they wear out and then try the next pair of “Jeans for Real Women”.

And so today, on a family outing to Superstore  (you know, the veritable mecca of fashion these days and seriously, do kids really go through shoes this often WTF) what did I spy? Medium blue stonewash jeans, as far as the eye can see. And since the average person shops at Old Navy, Superstore, and Walmart for their everyday clothes, and not, as magazines would have us all believe, at tiny little boutiques that sell exclusive designer labels, I say that this is the new trend. That medium blue stonewash is coming back. Mark my words - dark denim is going the way of the dodo.

I made some homemade play dough (now called “Kale-Dough” at our house) for Kale this morning. We chose baby blue as the colour – he pointed to the blue food colouring so okay by me, blue it is. He was pretty insistent about helping me mix it, and pretty insistent about having a go with it at the table as soon as it was done. Kale has played with play dough before at Family Place and enjoyed it, especially rolling it out and squishing it between his fingers but this was his very own blob of play dough to do with as he pleased.

I recently bought the Duktig 7 piece baking set from Ikea to go along with the pots and pans that Kale already has and it comes with a rolling pin, some cookie cutters, and some baking pans, and so I thought some play dough would be fun to make “cookies” out of. Kale is into kitchen stuff of all varieties and I think that’s awesome. Also on his current wish list? A tea set from Green Toys like the one his friend Moira has, and I’m currently scouring the web looking for plans to build a kitchen out of wood or some sort of Ikea Hack.

I plopped Kale into the seat and then had to wash my hands, so I gave him a plastic knife to stab the play dough with. He demanded another utensil after stabbing the play dough, and then another, and another, until eventually, he had 6 or 7 knives and forks and spoons on the table. He spent the better part of 45 minutes stabbing the dough with the utensil, making a “porcupine” and then asking me to re-roll the ball so he could do it again.

Kale Dough is a H-I-T. Although I warn you this video is a little anti-climatic. This was about the 4th time he had two blobs to stab.

Kale creates play dough porcupine from Jen Arbo on Vimeo.

Play Dough Recipe (I used 1/2 – it made an ample amount):

• 2 cups flour
• 1 cup salt
• 4 tsp cream of tartar (available in the baking/spices section of a normal grocery store)
• 2 tbsp oil
• 2 cups boiling water
• food colouring – I used 6 drops to acheive baby blue

Mix all the dry ingredients together, then add the oil, water, and food colouring. Mix it really well and then turn out on a floured surface and knead until really smooth. Keep adding flour a bit at a time until it is the consistency you want.

I’ve spent a lot of time wishing and hoping and daydreaming about our house, the house, the one that we will buy and move into sometime this year. I’ve been thinking about how to use the as-of-yet unknown spaces, things I want to implement (Mama’s Time Out Room Keep Out Boys Are Stupid), things I might be able to do (have my sewing machine out AND eat off the table AT THE SAME TIME), the space, oh the space we will have. I’m positively drunk with ideas.

Our place hits the market sometime in the next two weeks or so, just a few loose ends to tie up and we want to do things up right, which means getting the photographer in here BEFORE our place is on the market, because I know from personal experience that houses that don’t have any, or only one photo are generally the ones I don’t give a second glance. Because in my mind I”m all “so what are you hiding by not adding photos because seriously who doesn’t have a digital camera these days, right?”.

Back in the early days of Kale the walls were oh so small some days because they felt like a prison wardened by a wee tiny sadistic jerk whose only job was to make my life as challenging as possible. I kid. (Sort of). Now they feel oh so small because Kale thinks that RUNNING is the only acceptable way to get anywhere and when you run in a small space, what tends to happen? Yes, you tend to run into the walls. Which equals Unhappy Toddler. And while we do go outside frequently and I’m all for running around in the wide open space that is The Park, I still wouldn’t mind being able to sit down at the table without a toy on the table, another (usually sharp) toy under my feet, and yet another one on the chair, which I generally only discover as I’m sitting on it.

Anyway, we spent the weekend packing up the things we store in our closets (admittedly, there is a lot) but the irony doesn’t escape me that we are paying to store, somewhere else, the stuff we normally put in, you know, the already existing storage places in our home. But people have a hard time taking away things, so it’s important that our closets and storage lockers are as empty as possible.

It was horribly rainy and windy this morning, and now the sun has come out, so we are off to The Park to run around and get our beans out while we can. Mooki prefers to sit in a sunbeam on a nice, plushy bed.

From Mooki

You know when you get an idea into your head about something you want to have made / to make, and so it’s nearly impossible to get it out, and you know the solution is to just shut up and make it except you don’t have the first clue about how to go about making it?

Yeah. I am so there. I am, as they say, in a quandry.

Here’s what I have in my head. Ross and I need a bedframe / headboard. We’ve talked about it, and we agree that a footboard won’t work (see also: 6′3″ husband). I don’t want a frame that will significantly raise the bed – I don’t really like high beds. And I’d liike something a little bit unusual. I ahve been hunting online for something used or made from a recycled source, and haven’t had any success. A

So what I’d like is a headboard that is milled from a single piece of wood, about one or two inches thick. The top edge should be rough and left in its natural setting. I’d like two floating side tables in the same style… flat up against the wall, but the front edge in its natural state. I’d like for the whole thing to be heavily lacquered or oiled, but not stained in any way. I’d like for it to be an interesting grain of wood. I’d like for the whole thing to bolt on fairly effortlessly to one of those adjustable metal frames.

Here is a fancy sketch I did:

So. Now I have the idea, where do I go from here? I have no tools, no shop in which to create, no pattern to make it all happen, no skills in using any sort of woodworking tools. But I think I want to learn how to make it.

Suggestions?

As I mentioned, I was willing to shave my head if I raised $5000 for the Terry Fox Foundation. I didn’t reach my goal, so I started looking for other things I could do with my hair. I found out that there are many organizations that will take your hair and make a wig for children going through illness, or for cancer patients. Because I have some grey, I wasn’t eligible to donate for kids’ wigs, so instead I opted to donate the the Pantene Beautiful Lengths program. It allows up to 5% grey, and hair must be at least 8 inches.

I’ll admit freely that doing this was simply a convenient excuse to cut all my hair off, start fresh, and join the Mom Hair Army. I’ll never have less grey than I have now and probably won’t be eligible to do this again, and so… why not?

Here we go! Before:

Here’s my hair, all ready for shipping to the wig place:

And…. voila!

It’s shorter than I expected, but I don’t mind. But we had to go that short in order to get the full 8 inches from all of my hair, and there wasn’t much point in going halfway. My hair grows fast and It’s kind of fun to have hair this short for the first time in a long time.