Reason Number 1

I have officially entered the REAL digital age, with an iPhone 5s (don't ask me what that actually means besides "the newest version").  Now, I have never claimed to be tech savvy, in fact often actually believing, and convincing others with undeniable stories, that I have a magnet inside me that makes technology misbehave in my presence.  So far, I have learned to take pictures, check the weather, check Google for recipes (most important function if you ask me) and am on Instagram! (Twiggy_75!  Follow me!!)  Ok, so I've only done one photo and have four followers, but at least I'm in the New Age.

But the point of this entry, and others to come I'm sure, is reasons why I SHOULD NOT have this fancy and expensive of a phone.

Reason 1:

I am outside with Knox (forcing him outdoors, he'd rather be inside on the iPad watching Digimon or Pokemon videos - I think he's somewhat allergic to fresh air) planting herbs and flowers in the pretty pots the boys made me for Mother's Day.  Knox is wanting to destroy plants rather than put them in soil (I'm getting a little resistance in my idyllic spring fantasy here) but we finally get them in and get the hose going to water them.  So nice.

BUT, a while ago Rogue took off on rollerblades (awkwardly but independently, good on him) to go to his friends house.  Current house rule is that he has to call or text on his iPod (this entry is like an ad for Apple products I am noting…) when he gets to friend's house.  You know, to reassure me he hasn't been kidnapped by evil strangers.  So I have the house phone and my new iPhone on the driveway nearby, to get the call.  Feeling the build up of the story here??

Back to watering.  The water is pouring over the edge of the pots, Knox is having fun doing it…and I finally track the water trail down the driveway…across both phones.  Insert whatever appropriate expletive you feel is appropriate here, I think I said them all.  But thanks to the hardy, ugly protective phone case Rogue made my buy, the phone is SAFE and DRY.  If I had bought the cute, sassy Kate Spade one I wanted, I may not have been so lucky (insert grateful, subdued thank you here).

I'd like to believe this is the only entry of this kind, but I am what I am.

Just Like Mom

With the miracles of technology, one day a new channel appeared on our tv, called Gusto (right below Food Network), and I happened across a show called My Kitchen Rules.  Its an Aussie cooking show (home cooks not chefs) and the use of the f-word is frequent and accented, regardless of the age of the person using it.  It also doesn't get edited by the network, which I think is likely due to the lyrical way it's cast about during the show.

Now, this is going to seem like I'm going to go on a tangent here, but it will all tie together in the end like a fine novel.

Rogue is trying to be responsible and said he wanted me to login to a new website, but it may have bad words in it, but he had seen this blogger before and it had been fine.  So, I told him I'd login to it, but he had to report back to me what bad words were said during the webcast (is that even the right work there??) afterwards.  And, like the truth-telling kid we've raised him to be, he reported back that he said S-H-I-T once and G-O-D twice.  I said that was okay (low grade swear words), so he could watch it again.

Tying the plot back to the cooking show…Rogue has taken an interest in watching cooking shows with me, including MKR (as us fans call it).  We're happily watching this (it comes on four days a week, like a soap opera!!!) and he says "Mommy, what did they say there, when he was describing the fish?"  Yep, the f-bomb was used as an adjective in this particular case, and apparently I'm okay with it if its real people using it in a kitchen, not in games.  Hmmm.  Parenting is not so cut and dried.

Related, Knox decided to watch it with us tonight, too.  He paid more attention than I thought, and figured that if we went on the show, we could layer bagels with toast, alternating butter with honey and cinnamon spread, with fruit around it on the plate for "colour and taste".  He figured that was a winning combination.  Just for comparison purposes, other meals on the show today included "seared duck breasts with cherry compote" and "eel anouki with nori strips".  For those similarly aged folks who read this, I think Knox would be appropriate for that cooking show on when I was a kid called "Just Like Mom" where kids use horrible ingredients (ketchup, molasses, chocolate chips), bake it, and then the moms had to taste them all and identify the terrible concoction their child created.  Yum.  I think with a white chef's hat Knoxy would look quite dominating and debonair in the kitchen, and he does enjoy cracking eggs even though he has to wash his hands IMMEDIATELY afterwards (he has never been a fan of stickiness).

This past week was my birthday and Mother's Day.  This results in what I like to call Birthday Week.  Dan and I always take off five days from work (we do this for his birthday too) and do day-dates.  This little mini-holiday just maaay be a secret from the kids.  We just happen to be wearing sweats when we take them to the bus, and already be home when they get out of school, and Rogue was starting to figure it out by Friday so…the jig is likely up next year.  We did things like go golfing (this was on day 5 AFTER the 9 inches of snow from the weekend melted), had a two hour lunch, watched Netflix…just good, clean fun.  I also got gifts like hand painted plant pots, a letter and picture from from Knox, all home made which are the best type of presents.  I'll always remember how many years my mom kept this sad little tissue paper tree I made her in kindergarten.  On her night stand, likely a fine home for six generations of dust mites.  I finally made her throw it out as an adult, but secretly I was a bit thrilled at how long she kept it.  I'm trying to keep that alive for my kids, too.

I'll try to blog again before another season passes…but no promises.

It's Not Funny Yet

Yesterday I finished Christmas shopping, admittedly a bit smug since it was only December 15.  I tucked the gifts away, including a bag of candies and chocolates, under our bed.  Knowing Judge has recently developed a taste for things like Burt's Bees chapsticks, I made sure he wouldn't be able to reach them, since I couldn't.  Fast forward less than 24 hours later.  I arrive home with the kids around 5:00.  My first clue should have been Judge's humiliated face upon our entry.  Hmmm.  Whatever, Knox lets him out while I head upstairs to change clothes, which I MUST do immediately after I get home.

Our bedroom floor is littered with the remains of icy squares,  three large Godiva dark chocolate bars, coke bottles, chocolate money, and (not surprisingly) untouched sour gumballs.  Glittery foil is scattered as far as the eye can see.  Chocolate smears like poop cover the floor.  "JUUUUDDDGE!!!!" I scream, insisting he come into the room while I point, shake my finger and say "BAD DOG, BAD DOG!!!" then send him away.  I put him in the basement while Rogue helps me clean up, then gives me an American $20 bill (isn't that $50 Canadian?) from his piggy bank to help me cover the cost.  After we get the place sorted out, and yes, now I regret not taking a photo to share with you all, I can't find Knox.  After calling out and walking through the house, we finally find him, crying horribly, in his bed.    He doesn't like the way I've been yelling at Judge.  Sigh.

Rogue then writes this note:
Dear God,
When will Judge stop being an animal and start being a responsebable DOG!
Sinserly,
Rogue*
P.S. Please respawn

Judge spent his time in the basement really thinking things over.  While he was thrilled to rejoin the family a few hours later, he will be less thrilled to realize that we are re-introducing The Kennel.  He spent HOURS today getting that stuff out from under the bed.  Tomorrow he can spend hours remembering it while behind bars.  And yes, I know that's not really going to happen and I may be personifying him a titch, but I'll feel better knowing my chapsticks are safe while I'm at work.

Maybe now's the time to be thankful that his stomach appears to be made of steel, as I didn't have to clean up any bodily fluids...how long does it take for chocolate to digest?

Chopped

Normally I am quite addicted to HGTV and the DIY network, too.  They are my go to channels.  I enjoy sitting on my couch watching other people do physical labour.  Now, I won't deny that there's a bit of eye candy in it for me, Brian Baumler, Scott McGillvray, the cousins from New Jersey...these boys are pretty easy to look at.  But, this weekend I had seen all the shows on these channels, and instead of getting my sorry ass off the couch and actually DOING something, I scanned some other channels.  The result is that now I am addicted to Chopped, on food network.  Basic premise is four executive chefs are given 3-4 ingredients per round to make some incredible meal that is then judged.  One chef is cut, or "chopped" after each round, leaving only two for the dessert face off.  They are usually given some weird ingredients, and the show sometimes has a theme.  For example, today's was a circus theme, with foods (if you can call them foods) including cotton candy, popcorn, and hot dogs.  The chefs have to recreate the foods into something else, and obviously it needs to be palatable.  Here are these people, who are timed, I might add (maximum of 30 minutes to create a whole entree!), with strange ingredients, and they can make absolute magic.

So yesterday I went grocery shopping, and buy perfectly normal foods like peppers, bread, meat, etc.  The most radical thing I bought was eggplant (which is essentially a flavour stealer anyway).  Inspired by my recent tv watching, I thought it seemed reasonable to look up a recipe and try something new for supper.  I didn't even replace ingredients like I do half the time.  I made this cumin/coriander rub for pork chops, pan fried it like I was supposed to and IT WAS AWFUL.  Dan ate it, Rogue begged off, Knox never eats meat anyway but even swallowed a piece of cauliflower like a medicine to avoid tasting it.  I ate some, but quit partway through.  I was going to make some Indian inspired vegetables to go with the meat, cauliflower and eggplant (both used in Indian cooking), but of course had no masala, tumeric, or any other spices that would go with my meal theme.  So I did substitute here, using a chutney to sauce them.  Gross.  I did not embarrass myself further by actually taking a photo of it to publish here.

I have fluked and made some awesome dinners, but tonight was not one of them.  Quote of the meal:  Rogue saying"Why do Indian people make such chewy meat?" (This is the kid who would live and die by butter chicken).

My Kid's Babysitters

Reserve judgment for the parenting you will witness herein...

We have two babysitters who regularly take care of our kids while we are at home.  IPad takes care of Knox, and Laptop makes sure Rogue stays safe.  Now, these pairs can spend hours together - the house is SILENT.  Now, in the past week, the parental unit decided that the babysitters should switch kids once in a while.  Tonight was Knox's turn on Laptop.  Just to be clear, here, Rogue generally plays Minecraft on Laptop, and can also play it on his iPod (a secondary babysitter, called on in times of transition) but It's Not The Same.  Knox does not play Minecraft.

Within MINUTES of our arrival home, I see Rogue offer to spell what Knox wants on to look up on Laptop (spinning Laptop to face him).  Seems brotherly upon first glance.  I exit the room.  I should also mention that iPad is cast aside, cold and forgotten, this whole time.

I call the boys down to supper a time later, and Rogue says this: Knox let's watch something on the iPad, but just leave the computer alone since I'm still on it.   I say "Rogue, why are you on the computer?...Were you playing Minecraft????"  This is what I suspect happened once I left the room earlier:  "Knox, wanna see the new thing I built on Minecraft?  You'll think it's really cool!!!"  Knox is so gullible and easy going, and Rogue is shamelessly manipulative of him.  So, five minutes into Knox's time on Laptop, Rogue is playing Minecraft.  This speculation is based on years of observation.

Back to supper...Rogue hits the first stage of our confrontation:  Denial.  No Mommy, I mean, yes, but Knox wanted me to, he liked watching me and didn't mind.  I ramp him up quickly to stage two: Tearful Regret and Guilt.  He can watch it the rest of tonight, I won't do it anymore, I'm done!  Not enough, so I move him to stage three, Crying and Self-Pity, by grounding him off technology for the remainder of the night, 2.5 hours.

After he's done crying quietly into his Sloppy Joes, then my punishment begins.  He wants Knox to play with him, Knox doesn't want to and I support him in this decision (after all, he still has technology for a couple of hours).  Then he sulks over to me and wants to watch tv with me.  I say no, that if he still had the computer, he would be ignoring both of us completely (this momma's no second fiddle).  I tell him to go play with his thousands of dollars worth of Lego, or read a book, or...anything!!!

I have no doubt that Rogue will put these skills to good use someday, as a lawyer, politician, or middle manager.  Knox will start as a private in the army, great at doing what he is told, then eventually rise up to be a general, so he can finally, FINALLY, tell other people what to do.

Devastation

This past June there was a terrible flood in Calgary, affecting many families.  For Dan's family, they lost the cabin.  We've celebrated birthdays there, even one Christmas that was so nice we played horseshoes on Boxing Day (no snow, warmest day on record).   When we first started going, all family members could go at the same time; there were enough beds for all adults.  All our children grew up there, knowing it to be a retreat, and a place where we go to regroup and reconnect with each other. The cabin was an investment for his parents, a retirement plan.  However, because it was not their primary residence, they received no insurance money, and literally had to walk away.  The water levels were so high inside, for such a long period of time, that nothing was recoverable.

Shoe hanging on a wind chime.  The glass was broken from the inside due to the pressure of the water.

This used to all be grass, with a full deck attached to the right side of the cabin.

The couch was lifted by the water to get over the 3 foot railing in the foreground, moving it from the living room into the kitchen (as with all the other furniture in the kitchen). You can see the waterline just below the cedar shingles at the top of the photo.

This is to the left of the photo above.  The fridge had to go over that same railing and cross the whole room to end up in this spot.

Mud on the carpet.  It was tested and contained fecal matter, but because it didn't contain E. Coli, they could receive no insurance money or government support.

More mud.

Be thankful people.  Be thankful and grateful.

My Kids Are Remarkable

I know.  All parents think their kids are the smartest, funniest ones in the whole world.  That's our job as parents.  I am just finding that lately my boys are just cracking me up.  Last week, Rogue waxes nostalgic..."You know, when I was younger, I used to think that when you and Daddy talked about him firing people, that he started them on fire.  I know now that's not what you meant."  Let's discuss this for a minute.  How many years, exactly, did our young son think that his father was a homicidal pyromaniac?  Dan and I have laughingly talked about how the number of people he has let go is in the 50s, at least.  And all the while, our boy is envisioning Dan running a wooden match along his shoe, tossing it at a person, and WHOOSH.  This kid is literal and concrete in his thinking, let me tell ya.

Last night, Knox drew my smile on his rice with soya sauce.  That's right.  My smile.  I recognized it immediately.  He is an artist who uses highly unconventional mediums.  He does portraits.  I mean, we live in a society that immortalized a man who made large prints of tomato soup cans.  That Knox went on to eat the portrait only adds to the originality of his work.

Rogue has been playing indoor (thank God) soccer for the last month or so.  He's getting the hang of it, and seems to be less afraid of being hit with the ball.  Jenn, he reminds me a bit of you viewing volleyball to be like dodgeball.  Sadly, I don't think it's very parental to just have him sitting stationary and me kicking a ball at him over and over.  Ok, not parental, but psychologically that's desensitization.  Clinical, scientific and evidence based!   But my young fellow scored his second goal of the season on Sunday, and was named player of the game by his coach and last week's POTG.  And was I there to witness this pinnacle in his career?  Of course not, I was out with his grandmother and aunts, shopping and carrying on.  I'm proud of his growth and the expansion of his skills.  He really is growing up.

I'm going to add a couple of non-relevant photos, just to jazz up the post.

 This is from Knox's 7th birthday.  The girls, from left to right, 

are their cousins Ayden, Hadley and Tatumn.

This is, left to right, Alyssia, Knox, Kaitlyn and Rogue.  Alyssia and Knox are both seven, and Rogue and Kaitlyn are both nine.  These are Monica's two girls, who make me wish arranged marriages were acceptable in Canada.