Sunday: smoothies and toast, groceries and the park.
A nice, simple day, and if I'm lucky, I get to nap too.
The kids and I love our local grocery store. The days that they're super-good, they get to go to the child minding upstairs at the gym, and the days that they're not, they get to shop with me, eating samples of cheese, and conning the deli ladies out of ham and the bakery ladies out of cookies. It's a win/win!
The bakery lady is lovely. We talk all the time, with or without the kids in tow. The deli ladies are always smiling and friendly (and sometimes give giant free samples), and there's one particularly amazing cashier who shares in the kids' joys and tells her own stories. When she recently welcomed her first, long-awaited grandchild, she handed me her phone, full of pictures of the wee girl in Sweden. She was so happy that I cried.
But back to the bakery lady. She's a mom, too, and likes that I make the kids ask (loudly and politely) for their cookie, and that they bellow "THANK YOU!" when she hands it over. She's friendly and funny, and the other day, she hit me with the best back-handed compliment that I've gotten in a long time.
"You look really good," she said, "for a mom of three."
"No, I mean, most women with three kids look TERRIBLE. Really tired and, just, HORRIBLE."
"I mean, you look tired, but not HORRIBLE."
And on top of that, "Tamsin's" cookie, which I usually get to eat most of, was eaten in full by the varmint. Humph.
It got better later: we went to the park after dinner. Vaughn took the hockey sticks, Ailsa pulled Tamsin in the wagon, and we stopped on the way to visit with a nice doggie. The owner looked at them, then at me.
"Beautiful children. Are they all yours?"
"Yes, thank you!"
"All three? But you're so young."
There "may" have been a strut the rest of the way to the park. And back.
Tuesday, 29 April 2014
Look at this sweet thing, quietly admiring the flowers I got for my birthday (Thanks, TP#1!). Our little Tamsin is walking, dancing, talking (new favourites include "cookie", "cracker", "juice", "Vaaaa" and "Ail-la") (awwww!), and has the dubious distinction of being the first Huffling to require safety latches on cupboards.
|Wait! Where did you get that marker???|
For some reason, the other two had no interest in all the drawers that could catch little fingers, the cupboards that contain chemicals and danger, or even the cabinet which she was standing in front of last week when Grandma found her with a bottle of rum in her quick little hands. The upside? We now have safety latches. The downside? It now takes a few extra seconds for Grandma to get to the rum.
Today, she climbed down the basement stairs and was playing quietly by herself while I read a story to the other two. (Tamsin, not Grandma.) After a while, I thought I should probably check on her, because although the playroom is safe and there's nothing she could get into OH MY GOD.
I decided that I would deal with it later, and brought her upstairs. Vaughn ran down there just after dinner, and wailed his way back upstairs, refusing to use that bathroom. True, it sort of looks like a gas station bathroom, but it's clean, I swear.