At the time of my last post I hadn’t yet started my Christmas shopping. I was successful and the holidays were wonderful. The kids enjoyed themselves and all was great until Monday morning when I was trying to get them dressed for school. I lost it. Good news though. I found some help and next week I should have some new tips under my belt. The trick is to apply them consistently. I’m a good student and more than ready to learn.

The most popular question I was asked this year was whispered up close and under breath. “How do you two, you know, deal with Christmas and share the kids?” I always wonder if I’m being asked out of concern or sheer curiosity, like a side show. I wonder too if they then imagine themselves doing it too.

Co-parenting your children has it’s advantages from a distance. There’s the time to yourself that parents so dearly crave and not having to answer to anyone but yourself, which married couples sometimes envy.

A friend once told me that children will make you or break you. I think that’s true. I’ve seen it countless times. Seemingly great couples coming apart at the seams due to lack of rest, differing parenting styles and boredom with each others company after the children have shut their eyes.

What I would say to anyone contemplating a walk over here on the greener grass is that it is artificial turf. If you love your spouse and can find that spot that makes you want to be in their arms, then tough it out. Yes, children adapt and more than 50% of their classmates have a single or co-parent relationship, but it’s easier with two parents together, assuming you are not fighting endlessly and are able to be a good role model as a spouse.

This year, the kids’ dad officially became a live-in couple with his significant other. I’m still on my own. The conversation went something like: 

“Well, I’m scheduled to have them Christmas Eve.”

“Ah, no,” was my curt reply.

“Actually, I haven’t asked them what they want to do,” he said.

“Ask them? It’s not up to them. I want them here with me Christmas Eve. You can come and stay the night like last year. Your girlfriend is welcome too. But, they are not waking up with someone else Christmas morning.” I was friendly, but determined.

To my delight, when I did mention it, they said they wanted Dad to come over and stay the night and then go to Dad’s later. Korey pondered, “I don’t know what Dad will do with Kristen.”

Later, face to face, I told their Dad that if I wasn’t on my own, things might be different, but I am not ready to spend Christmas Eve alone. He said I could go to his place. “Maybe next year,” I conceded.

So, Christmas Eve I took the kids to my work party and then dropped them off with Dad around 2:30. I then went home to prepare the house and start the turkey for the next day’s feast.

The kids and their Dad came over around 8:00 and their Dad went to bed with them. I stayed up to wait for Santa, but fell asleep and dammit, missed him again.

The boys woke me up around 7 and we headed down to check the spoils.

The only weird thing that happened was that our Christmas tree, which had been up for 3 weeks, standing proudly in the corner, hit the floor unexpectedly just as their Dad’s girlfriend walked through the door.  When she left, she joked that she was going to see what trouble she could cause at her parent’s house. I graciously told her I didn’t think it was related, but have to admit, it was a pretty funny coincidence.

After dinner, Brian picked up his girlfriend and the 5 of us went to visit Brian’s parents who are both sadly struggling with illness. Brian was grateful that I went along as it makes his Mom happy to see the kids seemingly unaffected by our separation and that we can all get along so well.

I then had Christmas night to myself and most of Boxing Day, but I was on vacation until January 5 so had them everyday and boy did we have fun. Until, of course, Monday morning. I’m too hard on myself, I know.

After Justin’s first attempt to skip school on the third day of classes, he tried again the following Monday. I wasn’t with him of course, but his babysitter got a real taste of the sweetness I call “Jussy”. He stood at the back of the line and said he wasn’t going to school. Then another little boy said, “I’m not going either,” and then a little girl said, “me neither.” A little revolt ensued but they were all present for Oh Canada.

His Dad sat him down that night and told him that there are certain things Mommy and Daddy need him to do so he can do the things he wants to do, like play hockey. To get some major ice time this winter, he’ll need to attend school without trouble. The next day he was first in line and held the door for the class. A big job in his mind and one he was very proud of.

The trouble? Apparently, there is a little girl in his class he wants to play with.  I told him to ask her. He said he’s not allowed to talk in class. I said, “Well, just tap her on the shoulder and whisper to her.” His exasperated response, “Mom, we’re not even allowed to whisper.” My offer to write a note to the teacher received a very stern, “No.”

Last week the kids started the evening with the usual watering of my car and themselves. Then, they moved inside to extend the torture. I had told them I wanted to mow the lawn and they were both eager to help. But, dinner took longer to make and my choice of lunch was not Justin’s so, I had to skip the mowing. This didn’t go over well. Justin followed me around yelling and screaming that he wanted to mow. He smacked me on the butt from room to room as I got the wash going. When I came up the stairs, I was at my wit’s end. As I rounded the corner, I tripped and landed on the stairs, twisting my ankle.

I layed there in pain, moaning and crying. Justin stopped whining and came to me, putting his little arms around my neck, snuggling his face close and patting me on the back. “Are you ok Mommy?” he whispered sweetly, so full of concern. Korey stayed on the couch and very calmly asked, “Do we need to call 911 Mom?” I moaned that we should just wait a little bit, but it might be necessary if I can’t walk.

Walking on my knees and continuing to moan and wince with pain, Korey suggested I probably just sprained it. “Yeah,” said Justin, “You probably just sprained it…What does sprain mean Korey?” He was so scared, it broke my heart.

We made it upstairs and Justin got into the bath, urging me to put my foot up so he could cover it with a wet cloth to make it feel better. Korey followed later and got me to soak my foot in the water to relieve the pain. They both stepped up and got themselves ready for bed while I hopped around getting ready for the next day. My ankle very slowly started feeling better the closer we came to bedtime so 911 wasn’t necessary, nor was it necessary for Daddy to come over. Even still, Justin called him to let him know I had hurt my leg. I told their Dad I was just fine and there was no need to worry.

While Korey was finishing up in the bath, Justin and I lay together on the bed. At one point he asked, “Did you get hurt because I hit you?” I told him that it wasn’t his fault I got hurt, it was an accident, but I sure am glad he stopped hitting me.

I assured them by morning my ankle would be back to normal. They snuggled in and fell asleep. Next morning I think they asked once, but they could see that I was able to get around without any trouble. They haven’t asked since, about my ankle or mowing the lawn.

Are there academy awards for Mommies?

The boys have left for a camping trip with their Dad for the week and I’m missing them. Next week is my turn to have their undivided attention and I’m looking forward to being “just a mom”.

Justin starts school in September and I’m weepy about this. When Korey started I was so proud, I cried. With Justin, I’m crying because my babies are growing up and no matter how much time you spend, how well you document it, or how together you think you have it, the speed at which children grow is crazy lightening fast and completely out of your control.

My kisses are always followed by, “Lipstick?”

My hugs are interrupted by, “that’s enough Mom.”

My songs are cut short with, “not that one.”

But there’s still lots of “I love yous” and “I have to poop. Call you when I’m done.” So I’m grateful.

The other night Justin was crying over a dog his Dad’s landlord had to put down. Joe was Justin’s favourite dog…next to Mandy of course. He asked me what heaven was like. I told him I didn’t know. Korey interjected, “we are all going to die someday.” I said that is true, but I hope we all die of old age. Justin went balistic, “You’re not supposed to hope we die, we’re your kids.” He then turned over and asked if when he did die and came back he could have the same parents. I let the discussion end and didn’t get into the whole reincaration explanation or how we choose our parents and our children. I was sweetened that he would still choose me for his Mom. 

I must be more careful with my words. They are at a very literal age. I remember being five and paralysed with fear of dieing or not having my parents. My nightime prays went something like:

Please God, keep us all safe. Don’t let anything happen to any of us or our possessions. Please don’t let any of us have meningitus, leukemia, any kind of cancer, AIDS (added in the 80s) or any other disease. Please let us all live for a long, long, long, long, long, long time and please God, let us all die of old age. 

If I didn’t say this every night, I thought I wouldn’t wake up or something bad would happen. The security of my family rested squarely on my nightly petition.

Now I send devine wisdom to my children when we are apart and see them in white protective light. But every now and then I sneek in a petition, just in case.

Korey just woke from REM sleep crying that he needed to pee and saying something about Justin and that he couldn’t help it. I carried him to the bathroom and went back to check on Justin who was sleeping peacefully and, well, dry. I returned to Korey who was still sobbing and making strange noices. I stood with him while he slayed his demons. At one point he said very sternly, “Stop it.”

“What did I do?” I asked. “Not you,” he said and gestured in the other direction. Once he finished his business, he seemed happier, pain-free and the tears had stopped, but…

Whoa. That was weird and might I add, just a little terrifying.

My friend’s brother-in-law, Mitch MacDonald, is on Canadian Idol. Tonight was the results show and the boys watched with me. Half way through the group number, Justin turns to me and says,

“If you were on there Mommy, you would win.”

“Thank you,” I said, pride staining the carpet.

“There’s just one problem,” he continued.

“Oh, what’s that honey?”

“You wouldn’t look cool enough.”

Last night the boys had a couple friends over to bounce on the trampoline. Two tear-pours resulted. One from a foot to the chin and the other from a slam-dunk on the leg. But, no blood or broken bones. Everyone was having lots of fun. After their friends left, the fun fell out of ‘er.

Justin spit on Korey and Korey punched him in the eye. Then the wrestling began. I had to physically break it up and drag them off the trampoline. 

They didn’t complain much about getting ready for bed. I stayed between them for the most part and distracted them enough to keep the peace. They both called their Dad to tell on the other. I know I ought to restrict these calls, but I’m mom-savy enough to know you don’t fight with two little people who are already tired and in the mood for a brawl. Besides, he is super-dad and super-heroes are always on duty, right?

As I lay between them on the bed, I asked who they loved in their family. Korey said, “I love everyone, except for Justin. I hate Justin tonight.” Justin responded in kind, “I love everyone but Korey, I hate Korey. I fuckin’ hate him.” Justin is the best swearer. When he lets loose on the curse-words, even I feel better. Then of course, as I am obligated, I tell him not to use them..blah, blah, blah.

I layed in bed this morning listening to them play. They came full circle. “I love you Justin,” said Korey. Within a breath, Justin replied, “I love you too biggie.”

I could hear the smiles on their faces.

Friday JB has orientation for big school. His sitter (aunt) said she would take him because she is taking another child, but that news made me cry. I want to be the one to drop him off, lick his hair down, straighten his shirt, give him a good luck hug and kiss and then turn away with tears streaming down my face. I also want to be there to see his big grin when he bounces through those doors an hour later. He’ll be full of wonder and excitement and he’ll rush to my arms for a tender hug from Mommy, who showed up with a little less mascara.

Some things belong to me.