January 30th, 2011
Written by: Julie Cole
People say that I’m brave for having six kids. My take is that it’s nothing compared to those crazy mamas whose kids are out of the baby stage when they go and immerse themselves right back into it. Imagine ditching diaper bags, sleepless nights and poopy bottoms only to return to them several years later. At least in my situation, I have not had a chance to come up for air and experience what it feels like to be out of that phase. Once I have a taste of the sweet life, I’m thinking there is no going back.
A couple of years ago, Daddy-o turned 40 and my sister and BIL hosted a party. We arrived with a bucketful of newborn baby. My BIL had a big chuckle and noted that at his 40th a few years down the road, he would be on easy street – his kids would be teenagers. There were many laughs as we predicted that Daddy-o would never be in a position to retire seeing that he’d likely have kids still in university when he was in his sixties. Funny thing is, that bucketful of baby was only #5 – baby #6 came a couple of years later. Yes, no retirement plans for Daddy-o.
So you can imagine the fun we have had welcoming my sister and BIL’s new baby into the world last week. You can also envision their shock and horror upon discovering baby #3 was on the way, just as they were plotting their “Freedom 40” plan. And you can definitely picture how much fun Daddy-o had reminding BIL that he will now have a toddler at his 40th birthday party.
The shock and horror I refer to lasted for only about a minute before they were absolutely thrilled. OK, the shock hung around for a while. You see, they actually always wanted three kids but had a rough baby-making history and in the end it seemed they were extremely lucky to get the two they got. So, this little “baby-that-could’ is pretty darn special in our books.
During my sister’s surprise baby adventure, I’ve spoken to a lot of mamas who have had a similar experience. They all reported that, while the news initially took some digesting, in the end it was the best thing that ever happened to them and their families.
That may be true. Still, don’t expect to hear about any surprises from me.
Big thanks to Photog friends for these awesome images. Nicola popped around to see baby Isla at home and took this beautiful baby shot. Julie saw Isla and her big sibs at her studio and worked her usual magic!
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January 16th, 2011
Written by: Julie Cole
And in desperate times, you look to older siblings for help!
With the recent death of both grandpas, I was left feeling like I needed a bit of help and support. I had six jetlagged kids up at random hours (some with fevers), work commitments and was parenting solo because Daddy-o was overseas for a week for funeral celebrations. Let’s just say, I’ve seen easier days.
Help is a funny thing. Some people offer to help, but we don’t take them up on it. Is it because we don’t think it’s a genuine offer? Is it because we are selective about who we think is actually capable of helping us?
During my recent tricky times, I found out the things that were most helpful for me:
Bossy People
I realized that when someone asks “What can I do to help?” it is too vague and the response is almost always “nothing”. The person needing help is too exhausted to come up with a plan. The offerer needs to take control and just deliver. One friend dropped me a quick e-mail to let me know she would be delivering dinner on Wednesday and Friday of that week. Not giving me a choice was paramount in the effectiveness of this help.
Visits
I was feeling a little loopy in my state of sleep deprivation. Hanging out with kids around the clock didn’t exactly help my sanity. I was also carrying a bit of guilt about being too exhausted to actually do anything interesting with the kids. Having visitors provided a great distraction.
Hands-On Help
Delivering food is a winner. A casserole drop-off brings me a ridiculous amount of joy. I don’t even care if it doesn’t taste good or my kids stick their noses up at it. It removes the dinner issue from my plate. That’s all that matters.
Taking kids for play dates also ranks high. During my week alone with the kids, I slept for three hours a night. While I function well on little sleep, this was pushing the limit. Try doing that for several consecutive nights. Actually, don’t. Reducing my kiddo head count for a couple of hours during crazy times will make me love you.
So what have I learned? Say “yes” to anyone and everyone who offers help, and when I offer it, I’ll be specific about what help I’m going to provide.
What do you do to lend a hand to a friend in need? Do you accept help when you need it?
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January 2nd, 2011
Written by: Julie Cole
Pa on his last day at the farm with Oma and his 16 grandkids
Two years ago I was pregnant with my sixth baby and boarded a 15 hour flight with my five small children. I was horrified to discover that the airline had put me beside a small child traveling alone. As if I didn’t have enough kids to care for on that journey.
A few months ago, I blogged about a flight I was on with a lovely elderly gentleman who was bravely traveling with his wife who had Alzheimer’s.
Imagine my surprise when a few weeks ago I boarded a 15 hour flight with six kids only to discover who was traveling alone beside me this time: An old guy. With Alzheimer’s.
That was just the tip of the irony iceberg this holiday season.
We traveled half way across the world to spend time with my sick father-in-law. Four days after arriving, my own father died back at home. Yep, you heard that right – I leave the country and my own dad decides it’s a fine time to pop off. Between my dad’s death and my FIL’s cancer, my son mentioned that he was experiencing some unfair events in the grandpa department.
He also noted that there is one grandpa who is still fighting fit. He was referring to my 96-year-old grandpa, his great-grandpa. What is the secret to this old guy’s long life? From my observations, it would seem that the tricks to his longevity include never eating vegetables, indulging in a whopping bowl of Jell-O and ice cream every day, setting yourself up with about 400 great-grandchildren and staying married to the same woman for 75 years.
A few days ago, our overseas journey came to an end. We wearily walked through our front door, only to be greeted with a phone call informing us that my FIL had just passed away. Seems the best time to die is shortly after my family leaves the country.
Has it been a great holiday season for my family? I could come up with a few reasons to grumble, but we’ve somehow managed to take the advice of my 95-year-old grandma: life is for the living and there’s no time to be sitting around waiting for people to die. So, in spite of it all, we did some living.
As we head into 2011, I’m mourning the loss of my dad and FIL, acting as amateur grief counselor to my kiddos and thinking I may just spend a bit more time over the next year sharing bowls of Jell-O with my grandpa.
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November 21st, 2010
Written by: Julie Cole
It's shocking anyone believes in Santa with beards like that around!
When I was about six years old, my parents went to Ireland for three weeks. My aunt and uncle stepped up to the plate – they were a lot younger than my parents and a heck of a lot more fun. One night they let us stay up way past bedtime and watch “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”.
When my parents returned, they seemed very different. They brought us presents and allowed us access to unlimited portions of Irish chocolate. The change in them was so peculiar, it was clear in my mind that they had become victims of body snatching while on holiday. You see, my real parents would never shower us with gifts. Alien invasion was the only reasonable conclusion.
It is for similar reasons that my big kids still believe in Santa. Santa brings them stuff they know I would never buy. It is easy to believe in Santa when you are being raised by a mother who is both mean and cheap. The idea that I would actually buy toys and other nonsense is so outrageous to them that logic dictates Santa must be responsible for such kindness.
The part of me that wants to spoil them rotten and see those little faces light up loves that Santa exists. There are many things I won’t buy them because I don’t like the brand, messaging, batteries, etc. Explaining why I don’t like those products is a valuable teaching opportunity. Being Santa allows me to indulge them with something they want without having it come from Mom.
But this year I have a new dilemma. My eleven-year-old son truly believes in Santa. He also believes in the Tooth Fairy. He is not faking it or desperately/sentimentally trying to hold on to the magic. He believes in Santa because he has autism. Some things are taken very literally, and the Santa thing has played out like this:
- Mom says there is a Santa and Tooth Fairy
- Mom does not lie to me
- Therefore, there is a Santa and Tooth Fairy
I’m happy he believes for his younger siblings, but I’m breaking a sweat imagining him standing around with his buddies at recess, defending the existence of the Tooth Fairy to a bunch of Gr. 6 boys.
So, I think this is the year I have to sit him down and tell him that I’ve been lying to him for eleven years. Then ask him to keep the lie alive for his brothers and sisters. Then hope he doesn’t think I’m lying about everything else.
Advice welcomed.
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November 7th, 2010
Written by: Julie Cole
There are a couple of Halloween rules that I have and they have nothing to do with safety. Quite simply, my kids must go trick or treating in our own neighbourhood and they must go out together. Enforcing the rule has never been an issue – no one has ever expressed interest in sharing the night elsewhere or with other people. Sure, we meet up with friends on the street, but the team of siblings travel as a pack on this special night.
I had not really thought very much about why this was important to me until this Halloween. During the day, I met up with my sisters at our parents’ house with all the kids in costumes. We started sharing our antics of Halloweens past and it left the kids begging for more and more of our Halloween stories – some of which are downright legendary.
I am one of three sisters born inside of three years. Most people thought we were triplets and at one point growing up, my parents had a spare bedroom because the three of us insisted on sharing a room. We always went trick or treating together. Sometimes friends would join us, but they were joining us – the sisters.
As I walked the streets with my kids that night, I thought about how lucky I was to have people around me constantly reminding me of fun times and triggering great memories. I saw kids on the street trick or treating with a friend and wondered if, in 30 years, that friend would still be there laughing with them.
I suspect that for kids who don’t have siblings, that is what happens. Their friends play a greater role in the memory-making and perhaps they have closer relationships. My mom has often described how she always felt awful when another child came over to play when we were young because inevitably the three sisters would just play together. There was never an intention to exclude the other child; it just seemed to be something that happened.
My kids are forced to share so many things – their space, toys, food, clothes and pretty much everything else. Why not ensure they share memories as well? When I look at what I share with my siblings, I somehow think they’ll thank me.
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